by Susan Napier
‘I know that—’
‘No, you don’t know. No one really knows how it was with Leigh!’ He turned away to pace the room, punching his words out in jagged phrases. ‘I had—I was extremely…introverted and awkward around girls as a teenager, but she lived just up the road from us and was kind to me whenever our paths crossed. From the age of seventeen I was wildly in love with her. At least, I thought it was in the cause of love I was keeping myself chaste and true, but now I wonder whether it was just infatuation, intensified by the fact that she encouraged my emotional attachment but kept me physically at arm’s length. Then I introduced her to my cousin, and she fell for him like a ton of bricks.’
‘Neville?’ The spiky relationship between the two men was suddenly explained.
His head jerked in assent. ‘Even when I knew they were sleeping together I was still tied up in knots about her. I stayed faithful to her on the strength of our friendship, in the hope that one day she’d realise that it was me she actually loved. Neville didn’t have a good track record with women. Whenever they had a row she’d run to cry on my shoulder, and I’d beg her to give him up and marry me—’
‘And one day she said yes,’ supplied Rachel tentatively, wondering where these raw revelations were leading.
‘Oh, yes, she married me—in a fit of despair and pregnant with Neville’s baby.’ He ran a hand through his hair, his voice sounding unutterably weary. ‘Leigh was a nurse—she’d tested positive for HIV after a needle-stick accident, and when Neville found out he couldn’t handle it and dumped her. He was terrified of the idea of being infected, or being stuck with a partner with full-blown AIDS, and when she told him she was pregnant he told her to have an abortion. So Leigh finally took me up on my offer. I was young and arrogant enough to think myself her gallant saviour, but she never stopped loving Neville long enough to try and build any sort of real life with me. She was so traumatised by the way she’d lost him she took on his attitude as a kind of self-punishing obsession.’
The long muscles of his arms rippled as he bunched his fists at the memory. ‘She went ahead with an abortion without telling me and then decided that I was far too good for her and that she had no right to my love. She’d always been emotionally delicate, but she became an obsessive-compulsive, constantly cleaning the house and herself, afraid that she was going to accidentally contaminate somebody else. Her HIV status never changed, but she was convinced she was tainted, unworthy of being happy. She was a nurse, and intellectually she knew that HIV isn’t the sentence of doom it once was, but she still couldn’t exercise any control over her fears without the help of tranquillisers. Do you know what she wrote in her suicide note? That sometimes just to live is an act of courage, and that hers had all dwindled away…’
‘Oh, Matt…’ Rachel’s throat ached to find the words to ease his pain. When she had researched his background she had read the initial news report of Leigh Riordan’s death, which had included a reference to Leigh being Matt’s ‘childhood sweetheart’ and a wedding photo of a slender and fine-boned bride, wearing a gamine smile and looking ethereally young in her fairytale gown. At her side twenty-year-old Matt had appeared touchingly grave in comparison.
‘I was only ever a substitute to Leigh, and obviously a poor one at that,’ he continued choppily. ‘She certainly found no solace in my arms, because she wouldn’t let me touch her for most of our marriage, let alone ever make love to her—no matter what precautions I offered to take…’
She had been bracing herself for him to admit that he was also HIV positive, and now Rachel sucked in a sharp breath. ‘You mean…?’
He stopped his pacing and stared directly into her stunned eyes. ‘I mean that our marriage was never consummated.’
‘I—I see…’
‘I don’t think you do. One way or another—through love, loyalty, or guilt over her death—Leigh has kept me celibate since the tender age of seventeen.’ He paused as her hazel eyes widened even more, her lips parting in disbelief. ‘The very, very tender age…’ he drawled significantly.
Rachel felt hot and cold and dizzy, all at the same time. ‘I—what exactly are you saying?’
He rubbed his bare chest with slow, distracting strokes. ‘Exactly? That far from being the accomplished lover my behaviour so far may have encouraged you to believe, my practical sexual experience is virtually nil. I’ve never been anyone’s lover.’
Rachel tore her attention away from his chest and took an involuntary step back, crossing her arms across her breasts to hug herself in thunderstruck confusion. ‘But I…you—’
‘Don’t worry.’ He interrupted her babble with a wry smile that made her even more flustered. ‘Virginity isn’t catching.’
Virginity? His? This lean, sexy, hard-bodied man she had been fantasising so lustily about was still a virgin? Colour poured into Rachel’s face as she felt her body react helplessly to the notion, her nipples peaking against her shielding arms and darting thrills radiating through her lower extremities.
‘Shouldn’t I be the one blushing?’ he asked, and indeed there was high colour streaking along his cheekbones as he watched her struggle with the arousing concept of his innocence.
‘I had no idea…’ she murmured inanely.
‘I do try and keep that kind of information out of the public domain,’ was his dry reply. ‘Virginity is not something for which a mature man is traditionally admired. My enemies would have a field-day with their jokes.’
He put his hands on her bare shoulders, toying with the shoestring straps of the chemise. ‘Seeing you in this erotic piece of confection excites me,’ he admitted huskily. ‘I very much want to make love with you. But I wanted you to know why it’s so important to me that there not be any mistake about what you’re really feeling. You need to know what you’re taking on when you invite me to be your lover. I don’t want my first time with a woman to be a one-night stand or a casual fling. For once in my life I want the woman of my desiring to come to me freely—from joy, not from sorrow…’
She bit her lip, torn between fear of the tumultuous emotions his words had aroused and the wild passion urging her to throw caution to the winds and take what she wanted—and worry about having to pay for it later.
Instead of disappointing him, her gnawing teeth, softly furrowed brow and slightly resentful gold stare brought a sultry amusement to his gaze. He smoothed his hands over her elbows and down to the wide swell of her hips, applying enough firm pressure to turn her around to face the way she had come.
‘Of course, I expect the sex to be utterly spectacular when we do get together,’ he murmured in her ear as he gently propelled her to the door, his warm hand curving on her rounded bottom for a final farewell pat. ‘So remind me to make sure those motion sensors are switched off; otherwise, when the earth moves for us, we’ll have a squad of policemen thundering into our bedroom!’
CHAPTER NINE
RACHEL was given no chance to suffer any morning-after awkwardness from the night before.
Surprisingly, considering the state in which she had finally gone to bed, she had slept dreamlessly and well, to be woken next morning by the kiss of dark-roasted coffee on her nostrils. Opening her eyes, she saw Matt, breakfast tray in hand, sitting himself down on the side of her bed. As she struggled upright against the luxurious stack of fluffy pillows behind her he leaned over to place the light silver tray across her lap.
‘Good morning!’ he said with shattering cheerfulness.
Still dazed with sleep, Rachel looked down at the crisp strips of curling bacon and a sunny egg, surrounded by triangles of wholemeal toast and garnished with a yellow rosebud. A glass of orange juice stood beside the gently steaming coffee cup. She couldn’t remember when she had last been offered the luxury of breakfast in bed.
‘I can’t eat all this,’ she protested automatically, tucking the silk sheet modestly across her breasts.
‘I’ll help.’ Matt casually hitched up the drooping left shoulder-strap on
her chemise, and, smiling into her slumberous eyes, filched a piece of bacon, crunching into it with his strong white teeth.
‘Did you cook this?’ she asked, picking up her fork, trying not to notice how sexy he looked in pale blue jeans and a crisp, white cotton shirt open at the throat. She was in danger of getting sex on the brain!
‘Sara did—my housekeeper,’ he said. ‘I had something earlier—but I’ve worked up a whole new appetite waiting for you to wake up.’ Her fork clattered against her plate as his not-so-innocent smile invited her to speculate on which particular new appetite he had in mind. ‘Eat up. We have a busy day ahead of us.’
‘We do?’ Had he guessed she might wake up with cold feet, appalled by the way she had thrown herself at him?
‘Well, a single announcement doesn’t an engagement make, you know. If we want to persuade people we’re a genuine couple we have to act like a proper couple. Fortunately, I’ve never been flamboyant enough to be of interest to the popular press. My PR man had to offer a serious bribe to get that little titbit about us in yesterday’s paper. So if the photos do surface I don’t think even the tabloids will work up any enthusiasm about some boring businessman’s faked-up cavortings with his fiancé…’
Rachel knew when she was being distracted. ‘What do you mean, act like a couple…?’ she asked dubiously.
She found out over the next few days, as all her spare time was reassigned to support the notion of their ‘whirlwind courtship’.
First was their Sunday visit to the hospital, where Rachel had to suffer the embarrassment of being fussed over by Dorothy Riordan, who chided her son for having been in too much of a rush to even buy a ring for his new fiancé.
‘She couldn’t decide which one she wanted,’ he lied with a grin. ‘She’s a hard woman to please.’
‘That’s not true, Mrs Riordan,’ Rachel defended herself vigorously. ‘Matt didn’t even bother to ask me to marry him. He simply announced it to the world!’
There—that had wiped the smirk off his face!
Instead of looking properly disapproving, the other woman was amused by her son’s sudden chagrin.
‘Did he really? What a coincidence—his father did much the same thing when he met me. I must say, it did make for a very exhilarating courtship,’ she added reminiscently, observing the crackling tension between the pair. ‘As I told you the other day, my dear…Matt can be annoyingly managing…’
‘I call it being masterful,’ he said, to which Rachel answered with an inelegant snort.
‘I haven’t mentioned it to your dad yet, darling…you know what he’s like,’ the sprightly lady warned Matt as he prepared to look in on his father. ‘I think we’d better leave it until safely after his operation tomorrow, don’t you? He’s bound to get excited. He still has that crazy bee in his bonnet about…’ She nudged Matt aside and lowered her voice to a stage whisper which was clearly audible to Rachel’s burning ears. ‘About you and you know who…’
Matt patted his mother’s shoulder with a chuckle. ‘It’s OK, Mum, Rachel knows all about Cheryl-Ann. And she’s more than capable of standing up to Dad if he tries to cut up rough. She might not have the social pedigree he’s been touting for, but she has far more enduring qualities. She has the heart of a lion, the strength of an Amazon, the compassion of an angel…all wrapped up in the most gorgeous body I’ve ever seen!’
‘You didn’t have to lay it on so thick,’ muttered Rachel afterwards. ‘You made me sound like a cross between Joan of Arc, Wonderwoman and a Playboy bunny! I hate deceiving your mother like this; she’s going to be so hurt when she finds out this is all a pack of lies.’
‘Why should she? If our engagement doesn’t end up at the altar she’ll be disappointed for me, but I know she’d prefer to see us break up than for me to go through another wretched marriage.’
If…? Not when? Rachel wondered whether to challenge him on his use of words as he continued.
‘I don’t want to add to her burden of worry about Dad by telling her my troubles. At least I’ve been able to find out that Dad never looked at his private mail the day of his heart attack—thank God! With luck our engagement will be all the disincentive our malicious ill-wisher needs to persuade him he’s flogging a dead horse…’
To that end, their next visit was to a jeweller’s, where Matt told the obsequious salesman that his main requirement was that his fiancé’s ring be ‘big and bold’.
‘Now he thinks you’re crass,’ murmured Rachel as she left the store with what felt like a huge weight dragging on her finger.
‘Nonsense, darling. He only has to look at you to realise what beauty there is in opulence.’ To the amusement of passers-by he smothered her huff with a kiss to which she recklessly responded, quieting her conscience by telling herself that she was just playing a part.
‘I thought something dainty and small would be all wrong for your hands,’ he said, taking her hand as they walked to the Porsche. ‘I like this one because it’s so unashamedly different. That beaten gold gives it a lovely, barbaric look, don’t you think? Like something an Amazon queen might have worn…’
She remembered the strikingly eccentric pieces of art in his house and looked again at the flash of fire on her ring-finger, seeing it not only with her eyes but with her heart. He could have chosen something bland and generic to go with the pretence, but instead he had gone for something that he thought would specifically suit her, something eye-catching yet also resonant with a deeper symbolism, a ring that was as sensuous as it was striking.
‘I suppose so…’ she admitted reluctantly. It wouldn’t do for her to fall in love with something that she knew was only on loan.
Like the man himself…
The ring was a big hit with everyone who saw it, and even prompted a generous apology from Frank.
‘I’m sorry I blew my top at you the way I did on Saturday,’ he told her after their Monday staff meeting, and Rachel waited for him to add the usual rider which would award her partial responsibility for incurring his wrath. Instead he had rambled on about the pressures he was operating under, saying that he hoped he hadn’t damaged their working relationship to the extent that she felt unable to confide in him.
Wary of the tension underlying his affability, Rachel stuck to the cover story which she and Matt had agreed upon. To distract Frank from any inconsistencies she told him about the mysterious intruder at the house, stressing that nothing had been taken.
Frank instantly snapped back into professional mode, demanding to know whether she’d called the police.
‘I didn’t see much point, since nothing was taken.’ She shrugged. Seeking to divert him further, she told him about the string of problems she had been having with the council, the post and the tax department. ‘But I don’t think they’re connected with this latest thing…’
‘Hmm…why don’t I look into it for you?’ he offered, with surprising alacrity and none of the stinging criticism she had been prepared to resent. ‘It’s the least I can do after the way I carried on. Could be that it’s related to some case that’s gone through here.’ He turned to leave her office before swinging back to add as an afterthought, ‘Oh, by the way, I’ve had to let Max Armstrong go.’
‘The new man?’ Although Frank usually handled dismissals, he normally discussed them with her first. ‘You fired him? But I thought you said he was working out quite well.’
‘He had a bit of an attitude problem—you know how stroppy those ex-undercover guys can be. With things as financially uncertain as they are right now we have to make extra sure that everyone’s pulling their weight. I didn’t fire him; I just explained it was a policy of last on, first off…’
Rachel watched him go, vaguely uneasy. Frank never apologised and rarely explained himself, and just now he had done both!
She remembered Matt saying that a doubtful friend was worse than a certain enemy. She had never felt secure in Frank’s friendship, and, thinking back to all the times he had playe
d on her sense of inferiority to get his own way, to how he had only incrementally allowed her access to the business and never encouraged personal confidences, her unease deepened. What had suddenly made him so anxious to stand in her trust? Did he think that she might be persuaded to use her new ‘influence’ with Matt for the benefit of WSS?
Her distaste for the idea made her sharp when Matt rang to make plans for the evening, but she still found herself coaxed into having dinner with his mother and spending another night under his roof, this time in his city apartment.
‘But I’m not sleeping with you,’ she stated bluntly, not sure who she was punishing most. Since Matt was the cause of her painfully conflicted feelings, she hoped it was him!
Her attempt to reduce his powerful impact on her to its most basic physical—and therefore manageable—level had backfired. Instead she found herself even more deeply ensnared by the attraction, forced to deal with the real man rather than the fantasy, aware that to fulfil his demand for trust would mean surrendering to the frightening emotions he aroused.
As well as a fear of opening herself up to more hurt, Rachel felt intimated by the awesome responsibility he had handed to her: the knowledge that when they made love she would be initiating him into one of the great pleasures of life.
Of course, I expect the sex to be utterly spectacular…
He had only been teasing, but what if she disappointed him? She had enjoyed a good sex life with David, but it had been nothing spectacular, and he had usually been the one to take the lead.
But even when she was back in her house she no longer found it the peaceful haven it had once been. In a startlingly short time Matt had become all-pervasive in her life. At least she had little time to miss Robyn and Bethany, she thought, as she shuttled between the office, the gym and dates with Matt that she was careful to keep confined to public places—although she made no attempt to avoid the passionate kisses on the doorstep which left them both aching and dissatisfied.
