The Independent Bride

by Sophie Weston

  I wish I thought it was no big deal, thought Pepper miserably. I wish I knew how to handle this. If only I were more like Izzy and Jemima. I don’t even know what to say, for heaven’s sake.

  ‘Would you get my suit for me, please? I left it in a carrier bag downstairs somewhere.’

  Steven pulled a laughing face. ‘Spoilsport. I’m going to miss that tee shirt.’

  Pepper smiled, but it was an effort. Steven was back in piratical mode again. His dark hair looked as if he had been facing a high wind off the Spanish Main and his jaw was dark with stubble. He did not look courteous and civilised. He looked like raw sexuality incarnate. And way, way out of her league, sequinned tee shirt or no.

  She said politely, ‘I’d like to be properly dressed when your housekeeper arrives, if you know what I mean.’

  Oh, heavens, it sounded so sophisticated. The man had stripped her to the heart last night, and now here she was talking to him as if she were a guest at one of her grandmother’s pool parties! Pepper really hated herself in that moment. But she was floundering. She did not seem to be able to do anything about it.

  Steven shook his head at her, his dark eyes alight with laughter.

  ‘Time for a reality check. No housekeeper. The college can’t afford it.’

  ‘Oh? Then who takes care of—er—’ She could not remember the child’s real name. All she could remember was that it was not Janice.

  His eyes stopped laughing. ‘Windflower,’ he supplied. ‘I do.’ He looked at her curiously. ‘Is that a problem?’

  Pepper jumped. ‘No, of course not.’

  He looked at her searchingly. ‘She’s not here this morning, you know. She had a sleepover with a friend. You don’t have to worry about coming face to face with her over the bacon and eggs.’

  Pepper swallowed. This was worse than any of the other morning goodbyes she had said in her time. Why did he have to look like a teen queen’s fantasy and yet be so kind?

  ‘No bacon and eggs,’ she said in a light, bright voice that, if she were Steven, would have made her want to hit her. Why am I behaving like this? But she didn’t seem to be able to stop. ‘I can do you toast and coffee, but if you want hash browns you’re on your own.’

  He stopped wandering around the bedroom at that, and looked at her narrow-eyed. She saw the friendliness drain out of him like sand out of an egg-timer.

  ‘I should have thought of that. Rich girls don’t cook?’

  ‘I’m not a rich girl any more,’ she said crisply.

  ‘No one would guess it,’ he retorted. He came up to her and took her by the shoulders. His hands were gentle but the eyes that searched her face were not. ‘What’s happening here?’ he said quietly. ‘I went to bed with a voluptuary and woke up with a picky princess.’

  A voluptuary! What he meant was desperate. Pepper thought she would die, it hurt so much.

  She gabbled, ‘Don’t bother about the suit. I’ll get it myself,’ and bolted out of the bedroom.

  He caught up with her in the kitchen eventually. She had put coffee on. She had also skewered her tangled hair back into place so hard it made her eyes water. Yesterday’s blouse was creased, so she’d put her jacket on to hide the damage.

  Steven stood in the doorway and took in the change in her appearance. ‘On your way already?’ he said dryly.

  She avoided his eyes. ‘I’m sorry?’

  He indicated her be-suited figure with a disparaging gesture. ‘So good of you to delay your departure to put the coffee on. Above and beyond the call of duty.’

  Pepper kept her smile in place, though it made her jaw ache. To say nothing of her heart. ‘My pleasure.’

  ‘Is it?’ He took a step forward. ‘You don’t look as if anything about this is a pleasure. What’s wrong, Pepper?’

  If he had touched her perhaps she would have let her guard down and all her terrible doubts would have spilled out. Perhaps. But he didn’t touch her. He stood looking at her as if he did not know what was happening and she thought, His other women behave differently. It was a killer.

  She looked away. ‘Nothing’s wrong. I just have to get back to work. I took too much time out yesterday.’ She gave a little artificial laugh. ‘I don’t know what happened to me.

  Yesterday was an aberration.’

  He went very still. ‘I see.’

  Hell! ‘I didn’t mean that.’

  ‘I think you did.’

  ‘Well, not the way it sounded.’ She was floundering, the words falling over themselves. ‘I don’t sleep with strangers.’

  His eyes were intent suddenly. ‘And you think I do?’

  ‘I don’t know what you do,’ she said on a note of anguish.

  He took a step forward. ‘Is that what this is about?’

  ‘What this is about,’ said Pepper through a haze of misery, ‘is me. I am who I am. And I sleep alone.’

  He stopped as if he had been turned to stone.

  She blundered on. ‘Look, Steven, I’ve always known I have a destiny. My career. I don’t do relationships. I always knew I couldn’t afford to get sidetracked. And I—’

  Steven put up a hand. ‘No need to say any more.’

  ‘But I want to explain…’

  ‘What’s to explain?’ His smile was wintry. ‘You can’t afford to get sidetracked. It’s very clear.’

  Pepper set her teeth. ‘You’re not making this easy.’

  ‘Well, excuse me.’

  Steven picked up the loaf and, very precisely, threw it straight at the coffee maker. It crashed onto the floor in hail of aromatic liquid and shards of glass.

  ‘Steven!’

  ‘Sorry,’ he said, not sounding it. ‘Go on. You were saying how hard I’m making it for you to walk out on me.’

  She was appalled. What had she done? This is what comes of playing games when you don’t know the rules, she scolded herself. But inside she was shaking. The bespattered kitchen looked like a battle ground. She had never been caught in a battle before. Certainly never started it herself.

  She said feverishly, ‘That’s not fair.’ But she did not believe it.

  Neither did Steven, clearly. ‘What is?’ he said in a voice like iron. ‘If you’re waiting for me to apologise for making love to you, you’ll wait for ever.’

  ‘Please—’ But no more sound came out.

  ‘Will you tell me one thing?’

  She spread her hands, helpless.

  ‘Do all your lovers get their marching orders in the morning?’

  Their eyes locked. He looked as if he hated her.

  Pepper felt her heart contract to dense, cold emptiness. And the fact that it was more than half her fault did not help. That was when she gave up.

  She fled.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  STEVEN was like a bear with a sore head this morning. Val told him so, indignant.

  He smiled, though the smile didn’t reach his eyes. ‘Missed my run this morning. It’s made me ratty. Sorry!’

  She accepted his apology. But lack of exercise wasn’t at all what had made him ratty, she thought. It was another of those damned demanding women. She could cheerfully have boiled Pepper Calhoun in oil.

  It seemed as if every other message this morning was about the woman, too. Martin Tammery had e-mailed Steven a reference to a piece about her company in one of the broadsheet’s online editions. There were five separate messages from the office of the President, Calhoun Carter Industries. Steven read them over her shoulder and zapped them immediately, snarling.

  And, to crown it all, one of the students invaded the office at the busiest time of the day and Steven, who should have told him to make an appointment and get out, sat on the edge of her desk and swigged coffee with him.

  ‘Debate with Pepper Calhoun?’ said Geoff tantalisingly.

  Val snorted. They both ignored her.

  ‘She’s really nice, isn’t she? It would be so cool to have the two of you going head to head.’

  Steven winced.
/>   Geoff didn’t notice. ‘Real crowd-puller,’ he said enthusiastically. ‘I can get the media on board, too. Do you think she’ll do it?’

  Not for a moment, thought Steven. He said aloud, ‘You’d have to ask her.’

  ‘Okay. And if I do, you’re up for it?’

  ‘I’m up for it,’ agreed Steven, with a ghost of a smile. ‘Let me know what she says.’

  But he already knew the most important thing she said. I sleep alone. Of course she did. She was the Tiger Cub, with her destiny sorted. There was no room in it for a man with too many responsibilities and a nine-year-old to take care of. Hell, she hadn’t even remembered Windflower’s name. She was another Courtney.

  He had thought she was so different. On the plane she had seemed so natural, sweet-eyed and flustered. It must have been a temporary hitch. Underneath she was not a shy goddess; she was another fully paid-up post feminist juggernaut, determined to have her own way in everything and serenely assured that she was entitled to exactly that. No matter who got hurt.

  That brought him to a halt as if he had walked into a wall.

  Is that what’s wrong, then? Did she hurt me when she walked out this morning? Really? Annoy me, sure. Give my ego a nasty knock, certainly. But hurt?

  He thought about it. It was true. Even Courtney at her worst had not hurt him like this. Oh, she had tied him up in knots with her eyelashes and touch me, touch me not games. But she had not excavated his heart and then discarded it. Pepper Calhoun had walked out as if love was not worth bothering with in comparison with the great god of commerce! Oh, yes, he was hurt all right.

  So what was he going to do about it?

  It was a horrible journey back to London. Pepper huddled into the corner of the carriage, trying to make herself invisible.

  She went over and over everything Steven had said, everything he had done. How could she ever have called him ungentlemanly? His chivalry brought tears to her eyes. No one would have thought that he was the same man who had said, ‘It’s a simple equation. If you take in more energy than you use in exercise you store up fat.’

  But he was. He could pretend all he liked that he did not notice or did not care. But she was a human potato. Everyone knew that. And he was a man with no patience for excuses.

  He had a conscience about what he had said on that hateful television programme; she knew that. So he had decided to give her a perfect day. Hell, he had even told her as much. Clearly he thought that the perfect day for a female geek like her should culminate in a spot of romancing in the rose garden followed by bed.

  And he was right. Perfect just about covered it.

  He was kind. He was masterly. He made her laugh—and he had made her forget, for a while at least, that romance in the rose garden was not her scene. She might well have fallen in love with a genius. But the genius had just been trying to give her a day to remember.

  ‘Reality check,’ said Pepper aloud in the empty carriage. ‘He’s a contender. You’re not. In fact, face it, on the dating track you’re a non-starter. Time to wake up, Pepper Calhoun.’

  There was nobody home when Pepper let herself into the apartment. It was a relief. She looked a disaster, and not just because she was wearing yesterday’s suit.

  She got under the shower and let it drum on her skin until she was pink all over and her eyes were watering from the shower gel. Or the spray. Or anything but silly tears.

  You inspire me. Well, how ludicrous was that? You would have to be amazingly naïve to believe a man who said stuff like that. Naïve and gullible and—Desperate?

  ‘I need to work,’ Pepper said loudly.

  She dressed in a fresh business suit, over a blouse of eye-hurting whiteness, and went out to harass a startled designer. When she could no longer think of anything to discuss with the young design team she went into an art gallery and glared so hard at the paintings on display that the gallery staff breathed a sigh of relief when she left.

  The hot day declined into a muggy evening. The sky was savage, with great streaks of orange, heralding another wonderful summer day tomorrow. It reminded all too vividly her of that brilliant sunrise on the plane. Then she had thought the worst of her problems was her grandmother. Huh!

  Pepper sniffed hard and stopped at a kiosk to buy some cheap sunglasses. No need to look at the damned sunset if she didn’t want to! She bought a pocket-size pack of paper tissues as well, and blew her nose with violence.

  Then she marched home, beside the gleaming river, oblivious to the traffic that roared at her shoulder. Oblivious to everything, in fact, until her feet reminded her that her elegant shoes were not designed for long-distance walking.

  Hot and blistered and breathing hard, Pepper faced a series of nasty truths. She had been letting herself off for too long. But she was too heavy for her own health or her peace of mind. And Steven was right. She could do something about it if she wanted to.

  ‘I want to,’ said Pepper aloud. ‘I need to.’

  She needed to be sure there would be no more nights lying awake trying to forget that she hated herself. No more mornings trying to pretend it did not matter. Above all, no more gorgeous men thinking they had to be kind to her.

  ‘What I need,’ she told the river blackly, ‘is a life strategy. And some decent walking shoes.’

  In the end, she padded over the Albert Bridge in the gathering twilight with her shoes in her hand.

  Both cousins came out of the kitchen to greet her as she let herself into the apartment and limped down the hallway. Suddenly she saw the downside of communal living.

  ‘What?’ said Pepper pugnaciously.

  The first person to ask if she had been crying was asking for death.

  Izzy said, ‘Oh, boy, have you stirred up Oxford.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘The machine is blocked with messages.’ Jemima was not best pleased. She was usually the one with the high telephone hit rate. ‘Mainly the hunk with the eyebrows. Also his secretary, a moppet who says she’s his niece, and some student you threw darts at last night.’

  ‘What?’

  Izzy dug Jemima in the ribs. ‘Don’t be mischievous.’ And, to Pepper, ‘He says he met you last night playing darts. Geoff Someone. He wants you to take part in a debate that some college is going to run to raise funds. He left a number.’

  ‘They all left a number.’ Jemima was unforgiving. ‘The same number.’

  ‘No, be fair, Jay Jay. The student’s number was different.’ She looked at Pepper with deep amusement. ‘Men are always wrong, eh? What have you been up to?’

  Pepper went scarlet. But she was still fighting her corner. ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she said with spirit.

  ‘That’s what they want to debate. Men are always wrong. You’re apparently first choice to propose the motion. Who did you take to pieces last night?’

  ‘I wish,’ muttered Pepper. She stamped off to her room before they could demand an explanation.

  She threw away the ruined tights and plastered her blisters. Then she awarded herself her second prolonged shower of the day. It gave her valuable thinking time. Emerging with newly washed hair and a point by point programme for the rest of her life strategy, she took up her stand in the doorway of the main room and made a public announcement.

  ‘I am going on a health programme.’

  The other two stared.

  ‘I have been sitting in front of a computer for too long. I’ve got into the habit, but I can change. I can think and walk, after all. I don’t have to be this unfit. And I certainly don’t have to be this heavy. I am going to do something about it.’

  They were not as enthusiastic as she expected.

  ‘Oh?’ said Jemima coldly. ‘Well, good luck.’ And Izzy didn’t say anything at all.

  ‘Gee, thanks for the support,’ said Pepper dryly.

  But it didn’t make any difference. She was still going to do it. She did not return any of the phone calls and she did not do any more work on her project. She spe
nt the rest of the evening researching options on the Internet.

  So when Izzy came into her bedroom and said, ‘The hunk is on the phone again,’ she barely looked up from the screen.

  ‘Tell him I’ve gone to the moon.’

  Izzy passed her the handset. ‘Tell him yourself.’ She walked out before Pepper could pass the telephone right back.

  Damn!

  ‘What is it?’ said Pepper into the handset cautiously.

  His voice was very cool, very professional. ‘We need to meet.’

  Don’t be kind to me, cried her heart. Aloud she said, ‘No, we don’t.’

  ‘Oh, but we do.’ There was amusement there. ‘You’ve left an incendiary tee shirt here. I need to give it back.’

  ‘Post it,’ she said curtly.

  ‘And I’d like to continue our discussion. Your grandmother has been in touch.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘So I thought we might have a talk about this business destiny of yours. Having spoken to her, I can’t believe that you take that woman’s claptrap seriously.’

  Pepper shut her eyes. Just for a moment she let herself play with the fantasy of lying in his arms in front of the fire in the Master’s Lodgings, just talking and teasing and—Stop it, she thought. That’s not for you.

  She drew a deep, steadying breath and told him the truth.

  ‘Discussion won’t change a thing, Steven. I made my choices a long time ago.’

  ‘I don’t accept that. You can change—’

  ‘Yes, but I haven’t,’ she interrupted. ‘I’m still the same person—too serious, too uncool.’ She swallowed. ‘Too heavy.’

  There was absolute silence at the other end of the line. Now, if ever, was the time for him to leap in with denials. He didn’t. Pepper pressed her lips together until they were bloodless.

  ‘So, please—don’t call me again,’ she said steadily. ‘I really would rather get on with my life.’

  CHAPTER NINE

  STEVEN put the phone down and stared out at the Master’s Garden. A couple of his senior colleagues were escorting a party among the tangled roses in the evening shadows but he did not see them. All he could see was Pepper, with pollen on her nose and sequins on her bosom, spelling out ‘Go for it’ in pouting bravura.