A suitable husband

by Steele, Jessica

  'I make you nervous?'

  She gave him her best cool look. 'Not remotely,' she replied, and remembered to smile pleasantly as she added, 'This place isn't big enough for both of us.'

  Jermaine was glad when he strolled to her sitting room; she realized, as she reached for a couple of cups and saucers, that her hands were shaking. Oh, get yourself together, do, she instructed herself impatiently. Why, she didn't even like the man half the time! In fact she quite hated him sometimes, so why on earth was she getting into this state?

  Had he just finished work? Had he eaten? She popped her head round the sitting room door. Lukas was standing casually eyeing a rather expensive piece of porcelain she had always loved and which her mother had insisted she brought to the flat with her. 'Er—do you need a sandwich?' Jermaine enquired jerkily. For goodness' sake—if he were hungry he'd go and eat!

  For a moment he looked at her speculatively. Then he smiled. 'I grabbed something earlier,' he replied, but added, 'You're rather a nice person, aren't you?'

  Jermaine dived back into her kitchen. Nice! Nice! Who wanted to be nice? Nice, safe, predictable. She poured two cups of coffee, heartily wishing she had never issued an invitation for him to 'come up'.

  Lukas relieved her of the tray when she carried the coffee in. Perhaps he liked to drink it scalding hot and wouldn't be but a few minutes, she hoped. 'Your friend obviously has an early start tomorrow,' he remarked, to confuse her totally.

  'Sorry?'

  'Your escort just now.'

  'Stuart...' Light dawned—though she had no intention of explaining Stuart. 'You're working late?' she enquired. Or was he killing time before going on to meet someone? 'Why are you here?' she asked bluntly on that thought, belatedly wondering why the dickens she hadn't asked that question before. It was his fault; she blamed him, he confused her.

  He smiled congenially, and she didn't like the feeling that he knew every thought that went through her head. 'In answer to your first question, I've stayed at my desk clearing any loose ends prior to flying to Sweden early tomorrow morning.' Jermaine refused to smile back and he took a drink of his coffee, and then went on, 'In answer to your second question, and since I won't be back until Friday afternoon, I thought I'd stop by on my way home to see how you felt about coming with me to an art exhibition on Friday evening.'

  Jermaine was little short of amazed. He had called, in person, to ask her for a date? 'I wouldn't dream of coming with you,' she replied coolly.

  'Don't prevaricate—tell me straight,' Lukas tormented.

  She had been determined not to smile. Her lips twitched. He was impossible. 'I thought you were taking Beverley?' Jermaine reminded him sharply.

  He looked amused. 'Did you?' he answered, which was no answer at all other than it told her that he felt it was nothing to do with him if she had misinterpreted the arrangements she had heard him making over the telephone. Even though Jermaine was sure he had been arranging to take Beverley to some art gallery or other this Friday.

  'Huh!' Jermaine puffed. 'I fully appreciate it's unheard of for anybody to turn you down.but in case you didn't fully comprehend my answer the first time, no thanks.'

  Sarcasm hadn't dented him, and neither did her repeated refusal. 'Oh, come on, Jermaine, you know you love art.'

  She stared at him. She barely knew him, yet he seemed to know so much about her. 'Who told you I do?' she asked, and he looked long into her violet eyes, and Jermaine owned—she was weakening.

  'I have an instinct about these things. Say you'll come, and I'll go to Sweden a happy man.'

  His look, his smile, his charm, were potent forces. But, even so, she was ready to refuse a third time. And, what was more, she knew he was expecting her to. Then, oddly, at that precise moment, she thought of 'nice, safe, predictable', and something came over her. When she knew that Lukas was fully expecting her to again refuse, some inner rebel against 'nice, safe, predictable' rose up and refused to be pushed down. 'Well...' she began. 'Well, I suppose I can't really let you go to Sweden an unhappy man.'

  Lukas was on his feet—if he was surprised, hiding it well. 'That was a definite "yes," if ever I heard one,' he stated, adding swiftly.

  'I'm going before you change your mind.' Jermaine went with him to the door and, as if he couldn't resist, he gazed into her violet eyes for a moment and then dropped the lightest of butterfly kisses on her mouth.

  He had gone before she could protest. But whether she would have done so or not Jermaine was hard put to it to tell. She seemed to be breaking all her own rules since knowing him.

  She, who had a most decided aversion to being treated as second best, had—when clearly Beverley, the numero uno, must have broken a leg or something, and couldn't see Lukas on Friday—had accepted to be just that. She had accepted to go in her place.

  She had made a date with him—and Edwina would hate her because of it.

  She, Jermaine all at once realised, had—to crown it all—made a date with a man who, when she had as good as told him that she was a virgin, had as good as told her that he saw her as a challenge!

  She should be wary of him; she knew she should. And yet all she felt was tremendously excited at the thought of seeing him again in two days' time. Oh, what on earth was happening to her?

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Even though she was extremely busy the next day, Jermaine found that thoughts of Lukas Tavinor still kept coming into her head. As common sense reasserted itself she knew she should never have accepted his invitation for tomorrow evening. What on earth had she been thinking of? So okay, she'd objected to being thought nice, safe and predictable, but where in blazes had her brain been?

  And yet, five minutes later, she was wondering why in creation shouldn't she go to an art gallery with him? As he'd surmised, she did like art—well, most of it anyway.

  Against that, though, she, who was never, ever going to be second best, had been Tavinor's second choice. Had to be. Beverley was his first choice—and must be severely incapacitated, since Jermaine was sure the gods decreed nothing less would prevent Tavinor going out with the first woman of his choice.

  The phone on her desk rang. She answered it, discovered it was one of the newer executives, Nick Norris, phoning through about business. But, business done, he stayed on the line to ask her out the following evening.

  'I'm—I've got something arranged for tomorrow,' she answered, and was aware—even if she could have got a message through to Lukas to cancel—that she was committed to going to the art gallery with him.

  'Of course you have!' Nick accepted. 'It was a long shot, anyhow. But you're not engaged or anything like that, are you?'

  Oh, crumbs. She liked Nick; his work was good and she seldom had problems with it. But she didn't know that she wanted to see him outside of a work environment. 'No, nothing like that,' she agreed slowly.

  'You're going to tell me you're fully booked all next week?'

  There had been a smile in his voice, and Jermaine wished she knew what the matter was with her, but she just didn't feel she wanted to go out with anyone just then. And it had nothing to do with the way Ash had behaved—two-timing her with her sister. But... Suddenly visions of his brother Lukas were in her head.

  Heavens above, surely Lukas Tavinor wasn't the reason she didn't feel Hke dating anyone else! Oh, for goodness' sake, pull yourself together, do. 'Actually, Nick, with Christmas so close, I'm a bit pushed to find any spare time just now.'

  'You must have the same large family I have,' he accepted. 'When there's only two weekends to go before Christmas, I've got three sisters all determined I should spend a weekend with them and their families when I deliver their Christmas presents. I don't suppose you'd care to...? No, I'm sure you wouldn't. I'll see you at the firm's Christmas dinner,' he promised. 'Are you bringing anybody, or...?'

  'I'm going with Stuart,' she invented on the spot—and as soon as she'd said goodbye to
Nick saw that Stuart had looked up from his desk.

  'Where are we going?' he asked, having caught some of her conversation. 'And am I being used as an excuse?'

  'Are you taking anyone to the staff dinner next Wednesday?' Jermaine asked.

  'You, if you promise not to drink so I can?'

  'You're on.' She laughed; she had been going to drive herself anyway. It would be no hardship to pick Stuart up and be his chauffeur for the evening.

  Stuart went out of her head and she found she was wondering what Lukas Tavinor was doing next Wednesday. Which, to her way of thinking, was just too much. Anybody would think she wanted to ask him to partner her! Jermaine gave herself a severe talking-to.

  Although, by Friday evening, she could not deny that she was feeling a little excited at the thought that at any moment now Lukas would call. She had been unsure what to wear, but in the end had opted for a deeply blue suit that enhanced the colour of her violet eyes.

  For no reason, she felt dithery inside—and owned it was ridiculous. As it was ridiculous, she admitted—not for the first time in the seesaw of her thoughts—that she had accepted Tavinor's invitation in the first place. Again she gave herself a talking-to, and in the end decided that, provided she wasn't called upon to tell lies about her 'invalid' sister, she was going to enjoy the art gallery affair. In any event, it wasn't going to last more than an hour, was it? Just how long did it take to look at a few pictures?

  Her apartment bell sounded. She swallowed, and was cross with herself that she did so. Picking up her dainty bag, she left her flat and went down the stairs. No point in inviting Tavinor up.

  Ridiculously, she had to swallow again before she opened the door. She pinned a pleasant look on her face and felt her heartbeat quicken as she pulled back the door. 'Hello,' some actress addressed the tall, broad shouldered man standing casually there.

  'Not a girl to keep a man waiting, I see,' Lukas remarked pleasantly, his grey eyes warm as he looked back at her.

  'I thought it was raining,' she lied—as though she'd hurried to the door in case he might be getting soaked. 'How was Sweden?'

  'Fine,' he answered as he escorted her to his car. 'Been busy?'

  'Enjoyably so,' she replied, and sank down on to the leather upholstery of his smart car. While Lukas went round to the driver's side, she felt the need to take a few deep and steadying breaths.

  After her initial nervousness, however—and she could never remember being so uptight on a first date before; first and last she made a mental note—with Lukas keeping up a light conversation as they drove along, Jermaine began to relax. So much so that by the time they reached the art gallery, which was more or less one huge ground-floor room with a selection of movable partitions here and there, she was.

  as she had previously decided, all ready to enjoy the viewing.

  'Lukas!' A short, slim, slightly intense-looking man broke away from the group he was with and came hurrying over as soon as he spotted them.

  'How's it going?' Lukas asked, shaking hands with him.

  fingers crossed—I've been in such a state!' the man confessed.

  Lukas grinned, which Jermaine didn't think was very sympathetic of him. This is the man whose work you've come to admire,' Lukas said, turning to her.

  'You're the artist?' she smiled, before Lukas could complete the introductions.

  'Beverley Marshall,' he answered, and Jermaine's smile became a grin too—though she wouldn't look at Lukas. He knew darn well she had thought Beverley was a female, while of course Beverley could be a man's name too.

  'Jermaine Hargreaves,' she supplied, and shook hands with him.

  A hired waiter hovered near and Beverley called him over. Jermaine opted for a Buck's fizz and nursed her drink as the three of them fell into conversation.

  It was not long, however, before people who appeared to know Lukas came up to them, and, the art exhibition a side issue, by the look of it, they seemed prepared to chat in a group all evening.

  'You'll excuse us,' Lukas murmured suavely after a few minutes. There's one picture in particular I'm interested to see.'

  Jermaine never discovered which picture that was. What she did discover was that there was one picture in particular that caught her eye. She was moving around the room with Lukas, stopping before each picture, sometimes making a comment, sometimes not, when they came to a pastel abstract entitled Boy With A Barrow. She could detect neither the boy nor the barrow at first, yet something about the picture appealed to her.

  Lukas went to move on. 'You're impressed?' he enquired when she didn't move.

  She stared at the painting. 'I can see a wheel,' she told him eagerly as she spotted it.

  'Where?'

  'You don't believe me?'

  'Sure I do. I just need to have your in-depth vision,' he explained.

  'There.' Jermaine pointed to a fine swirl of red on the otherwise pale blue and pink canvas.

  Lukas's eyes followed her finger. 'Didn't I say you had an artist's eye?' he smiled.

  Jermaine laughed at his light humour and moved with him on to the next picture. Several people came over to them once they had been round the room. But when the conversation appeared to be more about business than anything else, and one of the wives took a couple of paces away from the group to study a nearby picture, it seemed a good idea to Jermaine that she should do the same.

  Lukas was involved answering a point about which some man named Akerman had asked him when, believing she'd be back without Lukas ever having missed her, Jermaine casually meandered away. The picture she went to have a second look at, however, was not nearby.

  Yes, that was most definitely a wheel, she decided, and stared fascinated at the blue and pink and the merging of a swirling wisp of red. She was sure the barrow was just coming into focus when she was suddenly aware that she was not looking at Boy With A Barrow alone.

  'Something tells me you like this one more than any of the others,' Lukas observed.

  'Give me long enough and I'll find the barrow and the boy,' she smiled. But, not wishing Lukas to think her rude, 'I didn't think I'd be missed for a few minutes.'

  'You were away ten,' he informed her.

  'You noticed me slipping away?' she asked, astonished, having thought him deeply involved in a business discussion.

  'I may not have your eye for unscrambling abstract art, but I knew at once when the most beautiful woman in the room left my side,' he answered—and her heart crazily seemed to miss a beat.

  She opened her mouth, sorely needing some witty retort, but found she was too stunned. 'There's no answer to that,' was the poor best she could come up with.

  Shortly afterwards they were in conversation with Beverley Marshall again, and, having complimented him on his exhibition, Lukas said they were leaving. Whereupon, once she was seated in the car next to him, Jermaine discovered that her idea that she would spend about an hour with him and that once they'd left the art gallery that would be it was erroneous.

  'I thought we'd eat at my club,' Lukas announced as he swung the car out into the traffic.

  'I didn't know you were feeding me as well!' she exclaimed.

  'You're suggesting I don't know how to treat a lady?' he teased.

  Jermaine, having formed the very opposite view—that Lukas Tavinor knew all there was to know about women, and how to treat them—said nothing. She had to own that she had no objection to having dinner with him— she had been planning to have something on toast later anyhow.

  His club—what she saw of it, apart from the dining room—was all leather furniture and antiques. 'What time did you arrive back from Sweden?' she enquired once they were seated, an innocent enough question, since she couldn't sit there all through dinner and say not a word.

  'Late this afternoon,' Lukas answered as the waiter brought their first course; they were both starting with fish.

  'You must hav
e called for me straight from your office,' Jermaine realised—he must have gone from his plane to put in time at his desk. 'Have you had chance to relax at all?' she

  wondered. She worked hard, but the pace of his Ufe seemed to leave hers standing.

  'I'm relaxing now' Lukas replied, his grey eyes holding hers.

  She felt nervous and excited at the same time suddenly, and again wanted to say something witty. But all she could come up with was a dull, 'Good.'

  'You've had a busy but enjoyable day too, you said?'

  She shrugged. She had no intention of boring him out of his skull by telling him about work, so confined her answer to. Today's just flown by.'

  'Have you worked for Masters and Company very long?'

  'I worked for them in Oxford when I left school—at sixteen', she inserted. 'I stayed there four years then transferred to their head office here two years ago.'

  'That makes you twenty-two.'

  'Your maths teacher would have been proud of you,' she laughed, and felt all sort of squiggly inside when she saw he seemed to like the sound of her laugh—there was an upward curve on his breathtaking mouth anyhow. Breathtaking? 'How old are you?' she asked abruptly.

  Thirty-six,' he answered without hesitation. 'You're younger than your sister?'

  She didn't want to talk about Edwina. To do so might mean she would be called upon to varnish the truth a little—and Jermaine felt then that she didn't want to lie to Lukas. That's right,' she said brightly.