by Penny Jordan
‘Lucianna,’ he greeted her with a fatherly smile. ‘You look well.’
It was a lie, he recognised as he saw her face for the first time. She looked different, unfamiliarly well turned out and certainly unfamiliarly femininely appealing, causing him to realise what an extraordinarily beautiful young woman she actually was—but she most certainly did not look well. In fact…
As he studied her more closely he started to frown. Her face bore all the signs of someone undergoing the kind of crisis he, as a bank manager, was becoming increasingly familiar with. His heart sank. He had come here hoping against hope that her small business had started to turn the corner and might yet prove to be a viable proposition, as much for her sake as the bank’s. After all, he had known her and her family for a good many years, but he suspected that his worst fears were about to be realised.
Half an hour later his suspicions were a certainty. Closing the books she had shown him, he sighed.
‘Lucianna,’ he began, ‘I’m very much afraid—’ And then he stopped as a car being driven into the yard distracted Lucianna’s attention, causing her to stare hungrily through the window, a fixed expression on her face, her body tense.
Curiously he too looked towards the window, and immediately recognised Jake as he emerged from the driver’s seat of his car.
He knew, of course, that Jake and David were old and close friends, but Jake wasn’t heading for the farmhouse; instead he was walking towards Lucianna’s workshop.
As he pushed open the door Lucianna retreated to the other side of the workbench, hoping that the shadows would mask the hot colour burning up painfully over her skin. Just seeing him made her whole body ache with a feverish need so intense that she could feel herself actually starting to shake.
‘Sorry I’m late,’ Jake began incomprehensibly as he nodded acknowledgement in Rory Simons’ direction before unzipping the leather document case he was carrying and removing from it a thick wad of papers. ‘I got held up in town by the traffic. I’ve got all the service contracts here now, Lucianna.
‘I’m glad you’re here, Rory,’ he commented to the bank manager. ‘Perhaps you wouldn’t mind witnessing Lucianna’s signature for us…?’
The service contracts? What service contracts? Lucianna had been about to demand, but her voice deserted her as Jake took half a dozen steps towards her and the ache in her body became a tormented flood of agonising longing. He was dressed formally today in a dark suit, the jacket open over an immaculately white shirt, the tie he was wearing as dark as his suit but with a small design on it that almost exactly matched the colour of his eyes—a tie bought for him, bought for him by a woman, Lucianna guessed jealously—and, as it happened, incorrectly.
‘The contract cover for all the estate’s farm vehicles, plus Henry Peters’ car, and, as we agreed, it runs for five years. During that time, you will be responsible for servicing and maintaining all the estate’s machinery and equipment,’ Jake continued formally, ignoring both Lucianna’s shocked expression and the bank manager’s look of pleased relief as though he were totally unaware of the full import of what he had said.
‘My own car, of course, will be subject to a separate contract,’ he went on. He glanced at his watch. ‘I don’t want to rush you, but I’ve got a directors’ meeting this afternoon, so if we could get these agreements signed…’
Lucianna couldn’t take her eyes off him. What on earth was Jake doing…saying…? He had never discussed with her giving her a service contract to maintain the estate’s vehicles, never mind indicated that he intended to have her service the estate manager’s and his own car…She shook her head, convinced that she must be dreaming, imagining things, half expecting—and then she closed her eyes totally, convinced that when she opened them again he would have disappeared. Only when she did he hadn’t.
‘Jake—’ she began in a wobbly voice, but before she could ask him what on earth was going on Rory Simons overrode her, demanding eagerly.
‘Jake, am I to understand that you’re giving Lucianna an exclusive service and maintenance contract for all your estate machinery?’ he asked.
‘She submitted the best tender,’ Jake told him offhandedly, shrugging as he did so. ‘And certainly so far as I’m concerned I couldn’t find a better mechanic…
‘Oh, by the way,’ he added casually, ‘Lucianna mentioned to me that she’s having a bit of a cash-flow problem at the moment. I’ve suggested that one way around the problem could be for me to inject some capital into the business and to guarantee the current bank borrowing.’
From the look on Rory Simons’ face Jake might have just offered him the winning numbers on a lottery ticket, Lucianna decided, still in too much of a state of shock herself even to begin to query what Jake was saying.
‘Right, Lucianna,’ Jake was instructing her now. ‘If you could just sign here and then Rory could witness your signature. I might still be able to make it to my meeting on time…just…’
In a complete daze Lucianna found herself taking the pen Jake was holding out to her, weak tears starting to burn behind her eyes as her fingers reacted sensitively to the fact that the pen still held the warmth of Jake’s touch, a touch that, almost in another life now, or so it seemed, she had actually felt against her own body, her own flesh, her own most intimate…
Quickly she bent her head so that neither of the two watching men could see the hot flush that burned her skin, but she knew that Jake must have witnessed the way her hand trembled as she signed her name where he had indicated.
She had no idea what was going on, nor why Jake had chosen to pretend to her bank manager that he was giving her what she knew to be a completely fictitious contract, and if she’d had anything about her she would have challenged him right there and then, she told herself. But somehow she simply couldn’t find the strength of will to do so…Not because of her business…No, not because of that. It was because of her emotions, her need…her love…that she was afraid to confront him, because she was mortally afraid that simply to stand there and look at him would cause her to break down and tell him how she felt, to beg him.
Rory Simons was signing the papers now, smiling happily as he did so, but Lucianna couldn’t share his happiness. Stiffly she stood apart from the two men, watching as Jake gathered up the signed papers and then, with a brief look in her direction, started to stride towards the door.
‘Why didn’t you tell me that Jake Carlisle was giving you his business?’ the bank manager mock scolded her after Jake had gone. Lucianna couldn’t say anything. All she could do was shake her head and try to blink away her weak, foolish, yearning tears.
It was only later, as Lucianna turned the whole incident over in her mind and tried despairingly not to linger longingly on her mental image of Jake in his expensive suit, looking very, so very disturbingly male and so hopelessly out of reach, that one possible and very unpalatable explanation for Jake’s extraordinary behaviour struck her. Far from being some altruistic and even chivalrous attempt to come to her rescue and save her failing business, as it had originally seemed, could Jake perhaps be thinking that in guaranteeing her debts he was also guaranteeing her silence on the subject of the night of their secret intimacy? He had, after all, made it very plain to her that he wanted it to be kept a secret.
The thought that he might actually feel he could buy her off, pay her off like some…like a…made Lucianna feel physically ill. And not just ill but bitterly hurt and bitterly angry as well. Well, she would show him—and she would show him what he could do with his precious contracts as well, she decided.
She would rather starve in a gutter, sacrifice her precious business, and her independence with it, than accept his help and allow him to think…Oh, how could he? How dared he? Did he really find the thought, the memory of what had happened between them so obnoxious that he felt he had to expunge it, destroy it and her by reducing her precious memories to the status of some kind of…? Lucianna swallowed painfully.
S
he had worked hard to establish her small business and she was loath to lose it, but she couldn’t allow Jake to think…to believe what she was now convinced he did think and believe.
Purposefully Lucianna removed the list of her current clients from the file she had prepared for the bank manager’s visit but as she dialled the first number on the list her hand was shaking very badly.
Two hours later it was done; every single one of her clients had been advised that she was no longer in business. Now all she had left to do was to arrange to withdraw what was left of her savings and cash in on her investments in order that she could repay the bank all that she owed them. After that…
Proudly Lucianna squared her shoulders. She would have to find herself a temporary job and then, at the end of the summer, she could re-start her studies, go to university perhaps as a mature student, find herself something to do that was more ‘suitable’ for a woman.
The view beyond her workshop window blurred and swam as she blinked fiercely to disperse the tears.
She had equipped this workshop with such high hopes, such faith and belief not just in herself but also in others, in the surety that they would ultimately accept that she was every bit as good a mechanic as any male. And she was as good. Nothing could change that, just as nothing, apparently, could change the male pride that meant that they could not and would not accept her.
She would have to tell her family, of course—David and Janey first and then her father. And now that David and Janey were expecting a child it might also be a good time for her to look for somewhere else to live. Fresh tears filled her eyes and, before her resolve could break and desert her completely, she picked up the papers Jake had left her and ripped them neatly into four pieces, her fingers trembling very badly as she stuffed them into an envelope, addressed it to him, then sealed it. No doubt he would be able to make his own interpretation of her actions, just as she had of his.
‘You’re doing what?’ David demanded, too stunned to keep the shock out of his voice when Lucianna broke her news to him over supper.
‘Not doing…have done,’ Lucianna informed him, doggedly refusing to look directly at him as she pretended to be busily eating the food in front of her.
Behind her back, Janey shook her head warningly at her husband. She too had been shocked by Lucianna’s news, but one look at her sister-in-law’s white face and set expression had informed her that it would be wiser not to pursue the subject.
‘She’s obviously very upset about the whole thing,’ Janey counselled David later when Lucianna had returned to her workshop, explaining quietly that she had to catalogue her equipment so that she could put it up for sale.
‘She’s upset…’ David expostulated, pushing his hands into his hair. ‘Why on earth didn’t she discuss it with us first?’
‘Perhaps because she wanted to be allowed to make her own decision and handle things by herself,’ Janey told him quietly.
‘But that damned workshop meant so much to her; it was her whole life,’ David reminded Janey in male confusion. ‘I can’t believe she’d just give it up like that.’
‘Perhaps she’s discovered something or someone that means more to her,’ Janey suggested, sighing ruefully to herself as he struggled for comprehension. David was a darling and she loved him dearly but when it came to women’s emotions, especially his sister’s, he did tend to be rather obtuse…Despairingly so at times, she acknowledged five minutes later as David spoke again.
‘You mean John’s making her give it up?’ he asked her, puzzled. ‘I know he wasn’t keen on her work but…’
‘John may have been the catalyst but somehow I doubt that he’s the cause,’ Janey responded mystifyingly—at least so far as her husband was concerned. Women! How was a mere man supposed to understand them?
As a result of his afternoon meeting, Jake had to fly to New York later in the day to discuss a takeover bid for one of the companies in which he had a major shareholding. As his plane was crossing the Atlantic, the four quarters of the contracts he had so lovingly and time-consumingly had drawn up and which Lucianna had ripped into so many useless shreds were crossing town on their way to him.
CHAPTER TEN
‘I WONDER what’s happened to Jake?’ David commented curiously to Janey as he replaced the telephone receiver. ‘That’s the third time I’ve tried him today and got no reply…’
‘Oh, didn’t I tell you? I bumped into the farm manager in town this morning and he said that Jake had had to fly to New York on business.’
Lucianna’s head was bent over the advertisement she was writing, to advertise not just the contents of her workshop but in addition the ancient racing car she had been lovingly restoring and which Jake had taunted her over what seemed like a lifetime ago now. Her hand started to tremble. When was it going to end? When was she going to stop overreacting to the mere sound of Jake’s name?
‘Isn’t it today you’re picking John up from the airport?’ Janey asked her.
‘Yes, this afternoon,’ Lucianna informed her joylessly.
It seemed almost laughable now that she had ever believed herself in love with John. A small frown pleated her forehead. She would have to tell him, of course, that their relationship was over. Not that she could believe that he would be too upset, she decided hardily. After all, he had been happy enough to leave her.
There. Lucianna glowered into the mirror at her prettily made up face and shining hair. In an hour’s time she would be picking up John at the airport and she supposed that she might as well make use of the skills she had so recently learned even if the man who was going to be given the benefit of them was no longer the man she wanted…Wanted…ached for, craved, needed…loved…And would go on loving until the day she died. But what was the point in dwelling on the agony and misery of her unwanted feelings? Jake did not love her. In fact Jake wanted her so little, valued her so little that he had been prepared to offer her money to keep her distance from him.
Swiftly she stood up. Her new jeans showed off her tiny waist and long legs and the crisp checked cotton shirt she had knotted at her waist gave her whole appearance a sharp top note of chic casualness—a far cry indeed from the image she had presented three weeks earlier when she had seen John off at the airport. The swift appraising and admiring look the salesgirl had given her when Lucianna had instinctively knotted the checked shirt instead of more plainly tucking it into her jeans had proved just how far she had come, just how much she had learned.
Rather to her own surprise she had discovered that she didn’t simply possess the flair to assess and judge what kind of clothes suited her best, but that she actually enjoyed doing so as well. But if the admiring glances she collected nowadays whenever she went out boosted her ego they still couldn’t do anything to relieve the agonising ache that was her love for Jake.
In a couple of days the local paper would come out, carrying the advertisement for the sale of her equipment. Quickly she went downstairs. Janey was in the kitchen ironing clothes for her and David’s holiday.
‘How many suitcases are you taking?’ Lucianna teased her as she walked towards the door.
The arrivals hall wasn’t particularly busy and Lucianna spotted John before he saw her. However, it wasn’t shyness or insecurity that made her hold back as she watched him look around, his gaze searching the hall for her.
Where had those feelings she had thought were so strong gone? They certainly didn’t exist any longer—at least not for John. And even odder than their complete disappearance was her sudden awareness of the petulant sulkiness of his expression and the way he focused rather longer than was necessary on the two pretty girls crossing the concourse in front of him. Squaring her shoulders, Lucianna took a step forward.
She recognised the exact second that John spotted her from the almost ludicrous change in his expression. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped and there was no doubt at all from his reaction that not only was he surprised by her metamorphosis but he was also very v
isibly impressed by it.
‘Luce!’
Lucianna grimaced and then stiffened as John reached her and grabbed hold of her, insisting on kissing her with a great deal of public swagger. Like a little boy showing off a new and much coveted toy, she reflected wryly.
‘You look wonderful,’ he told her as she firmly turned her face to one side so that his kiss landed on her cheek instead of her mouth. ‘No need to ask if you’ve missed me,’ he added with a satisfied smile as they walked towards the exit. ‘I can see for myself how much trouble you’ve gone to to look good for me. And you do look good, Lucianna,’ he told her. ‘I’ll show you how good later.’
‘I’m afraid I’ve got some work to do later, John,’ Lucianna said quickly, deftly stepping to one side as he made to place his arm around her.
‘Work? You mean you’re trying to stick together someone’s beat-up old banger,’ he commented disparagingly.
‘No, that wasn’t what I meant,’ Lucianna denied. She had forgotten the way John loved to make depreciatory remarks about her work, putting both it and her down, but whereas once they had hurt her now they simply irritated her.
‘You haven’t said yet that you’re pleased I came back from Canada early,’ John reminded her.
‘You haven’t told me yet why you’re back ahead of time,’ Lucianna parried, and then realised that she had obviously hit a hidden and very raw nerve as John’s face suddenly turned brick-red and he turned away from her.
‘There was a bit of a problem—a clash of personalities…I don’t want to talk about work,’ he said, then turned back to smile at her. ‘I’d much rather talk about us…I’ve been thinking about us a lot whilst I’ve been away, Luce…missing you a lot…’
Lucianna’s heart missed a beat. She had known when she’d agreed to collect John from the airport that sooner or later she was going to have to tell him that their relationship was over, but then she had not expected him to behave as though…as though their relationship had a great deal more meaning for him than he had ever previously given her cause to believe.
