'Bart-----'
'Let's just forget it, Eve,' he told her coldly. 'You're going to be my guest for the next few weeks, so let's just try and be polite to each other. I should be away a lot of the time, anyway.'
Her eyes widened. 'You actually live at this house in Hampshire?'
'You thought I lived in London?'
'Well, I—Yes.'
'Sorry to disappoint you,' his mouth twisted, 'but I shall be home to dinner every evening, with the exception of tonight, and I shall be there every weekend too.' He quirked an -eyebrow at her. 'Changed your mind?'
'No,' she answered instantly.
'Brave of you,' he taunted.
'Not really,' she returned coolly. 'I'm sure you like your women to be in good health. And that you don't Bee them to be skinny.'
Bart threw back his head and laughed, his teeth very white and even. That rankled, hmm?'
'A little,' she nodded. 'I've lost a little weight lately----'.
'More than a little, Eve,' he put in softly.
'Yes,' she sighed. 'You'll just have to fatten me up— My chocolates!' she cried in dismay. 'They're still on the boat. My flowers too.'
They'll still be there when you get back.'
'But my flowers will be dead!'
'I'll get you some more,' he said easily. 'Deep pink carnations, right?'
Her eyes widened. 'How did you know that?'
Bart shrugged. 'I asked Derek.'
There had been a vase of deep pink carnations in her hospital room every day, and she realised now that Bart must have arranged that. There had been no card on them, and Derek denied all knowledge, and so she bad assumed the service came in with the room. She felt a warm glow deep inside her that it had been Bart sending them to her.
‘Did you get all your work in London done?' she asked now.
'Most of it. Don't tell me it bothered you that I was gone so long?' he taunted. Eve flushed, not about to admit to it now. 'Not particularly. Although I was a little worried who was going to pay the bill,' she added mischievously.
He gave a deep chuckle. 'All taken care of.'
‘Bart --------‘
'Not now, Eve,' he dismissed, obviously guessing what she was going to say. 'It's part of a business manager's job to take care of such things.'
'But-----'
'Some other time, Eve,' he said wearily. 'I've had enough of business the last few days, and I have that dinner this evening.'
'If you're tired I could always drive for a while,' she offered tentatively. His mouth quirked with humour. 'You think you could handle a car like this?' She grimaced. 'I could try.'
'No,' he shook his head. 'It's time you took a rest.' He drew the car on to the side of, the road. 'In the back,' he instructed.
'I----'
'Do it, Eve,' he said firmly. 'The doctor said you are to rest as much as possible for the next week or so. Arguing with me isn't restful,' he added dryly.
For a moment she looked rebellious, but the implacability of his expression was enough to tell her that if she didn't get into the back Bart was likely to carry her there.
She gave an angry sigh, her mouth set in an angry line as she saw Bart's smile of satisfaction as she got into the back of the car. He had too much of his own way, which probably accounted for his arrogance. Well, she wasn't going to be a complacent guest!
He manoeuvred the car back into the flow of traffic, the engine just a purr in the background. 'Lie down and get some sleep,' he ordered. 'I'm not in the least sleepy,' she snapped. He grinned at her in the driving mirror, instantly looking younger. 'You will be if you lie down.'
She did so reluctantly. 'Do you order your employees about in this way?' she asked moodily. 'I don't usually need to,' he drawled.
'No,' she scorned softly, determined he wasn't going to have things all his own way, 'I suppose you just crack the whip and everyone runs to your bidding.'
Bart scowled. 'You have a sharp tongue, Eve. Careful someone doesn't try to blunt the edges.'
'You?' she taunted, enjoying baiting him.
'No, not me,' he said harshly. 'Now get some sleep.' He closed the window between them. She hadn't thought she could possibly sleep with Bart so close to her but somehow the movenlent of the car and the soft hum of the engine caused her to drift into a dreamless sleep. She opened her eyes with a start, sitting up to find they had stopped at a roadside cafe, and Bart was sitting patiently in the front of the car waiting for her to wake up.
She sat up, blinking foggily. 'Have I been asleep long?' she murmured sleepily.
'About an hour.' Bart turned to smile at her, the window now wound down between them. His smile widened as he looked at her. 'You look like a scarecrow,' he chuckled. 'Here,' he handed her the comb from his back pocket, still grinning.
Eve scowled at him, ignoring the comb. 'I have a brush in my bag.' She searched through its contents for the brush, disgruntled at being told she looked like a scarecrow. How did he expect her to look, as if she had stepped out of a fashion magazine?
'Amongst other things,' he taunted as she had trouble finding her brush. He looked very relaxed and handsome as he watched her, not at all like a man who had been driving in heavy traffic for the last two hours. She held up her brush triumphantly, brushing her long hair with smooth strokes. 'There's nothing in that bag that isn't a necessity,' she told him haughtily.
His eyebrows rose mockingly. 'Then you must have a lot of necessities.' He eyed the handbag. 'That looks more like a suitcase!'
She put the brush away, closing the maligned handbag with a firm snap. 'Less like a scarecrow?' she looked at him steadily.
'You take offence too easily.' He swung out of the car, opening the door for her. 'You always look beautiful, and you know it,' he told her as she stepped out beside him.
She looked up at him teasingly, her bad humour fading as the last of the sleepy fog left her. 'Even soaking wet and covered in mud?'
There was no answering smile from him. 'No,' he said heavily, 'you didn't look beautiful then. You looked—God, you looked dead!' He had gone very pale under his tan.
'But I'm not,' she pointed out gently, realising what a shock it must have been when he had thought he had found her, anyone, dead. 'I am hungry, though,' she added to break the tension she had unwittingly reintroduced.
'Now I know you're feeling better,' he smiled, taking her hand into the warmth of his. 'Let's go and feed you.'
Her fingers curled pleasurably about his, knowing he was only holding her to help her across the uneven surface of the car park to the cafe. Once inside his arm went about her waist, guiding her to a table in the corner of the noisy cafe.
'I hate these places,' he grimaced, leaning over the table as Eve moved along the bench seat to make room for him. Eve grinned. 'Snob!' she teased him.
'Not at all,’ he answered seriously. 'I just hate the way they massacre food so that it's unrecognisable as what you ordered. I'm not sure what I'll bring you back to eat, and the tea and coffee both taste the same, so it doesn't really matter which one of them I choose.'
Eve spluttered with laughter at his expression of disgust. 'You are a snob.'
'Maybe—about food. Just think what that combination of tea and coffee will do to my body.'
Thinking about his body in any way made her blush. 'I'll have the tea,' she said stiltedly. 'And anything else you feel brave enough to try.'
He gave a grunt of acknowledgment, walking over to the self-service area. Eve could watch him unguarded now, could drink in the sight of him, the way he stood head and shoulders above any other man in the room, his blond good looks and haughty bearing adding to his air of distinction. He looked totally out of place in this noisy, untidy roadside cafe, the young girl behind the serving counter obviously thinking so too, spending more time with him than was necessary, much to the annoyance of the other people waiting to be served. He chatted in a friendly manner to the girl taking the money, and Eve found herself disliking the way the pretty red
head flirted with him. He would attract female attention wherever he went, probably even in thirty years' time, and Eve resented that attention.
She was frowning when he returned to their table with the laden tray, putting a plate of roast chicken, creamed potatoes and peas in front of her. Eve ate it automatically, barely noticing the half-cold food. Would it always be like this, would she always feel this burning jealousy of any other woman in the same room as Bart? If she did she was in for a miserable time of it.
'It isn't that good,' Bart broke into her thoughts. 'In fact it isn't good at all.' He thrust his own plate away half eaten.
'It's worse that usual. You must be hungrier than we realised,' he grimaced. Eve looked up at him, blinking dazedly, her thoughts having been far away. 'I must?'
He looked pointedly at her almost empty plate. 'If you were able to eat that you must have been hungry.'
She looked down at the plate too. All she had left were the peas, something she didn't like anyway. And she hadn't tasted a thing, hadn't been aware of eating anything!
She pushed the plate away, drinking down the cold tea/coffee. 'I'm ready to leave now if you are.'
'I was ready to leave before I came in, I just thought you should eat something. Do you want a dessert?'
'No, no, thank you.'
Bart frowned at her stilted manner. 'Have I upset you by criticising the food?' he probed.
'No, of course not.' She gave a bright smile. 'You were right, it is awful.'
'Then let's go.' He stood, helping her to her feet.
Eve removed her arm from his grasp as quickly as she could without appearing rude, but even so his eyes narrowed questioningly. 'Aren't you hungry?' she asked nervously. 'You haven't eaten a thing.'
'It won't do me any harm. I've had too many business lunches lately. I wouldn't want to get a middle aged paunch,'
he added lightly.
There wasn't much likelihood of that; his stomach taut and fiat, his physical fitness was in no doubt. She had a feeling this convalescence at Bart's home was going to be a form of torture for her, wanting him and not able to have him. His manner had been friendly today, but nothing like it had been in the past. And she knew what was missing, Bart was no longer attracted to her. He was courteous, even kind, but there was no desire in his behaviour. She had killed all that with her coldness.
They were soon back on the road going towards Hampshire, Bart refusing her offer to drive. She would have been nervous driving this monster of a car anyway, but she had felt she ought to make the offer. She hoped she hadn't looked too relieved when Bart refused, although by the amusement in his eyes she thought she probably had.
'My concerts,' she broached tentatively. 'Why did you arrive and leave at strange times?'
He quirked an eyebrow. 'Did it upset you?'
She flushed. 'Not upset—annoyed, perhaps. I don't appreciate my audience leaving before the end of a performance, or walking in halfway through the show.'
Bart turned to grin at her. 'Much as I would like it to be the case, you aren't my only business interest. I had meetings and dinners to attend.'
'I see.' So she was just a business interest! Bart couldn't have told her any more clearly that she came under the heading of business in his life. This convalescence at his home was just to get her back to work— for him. She had been naive to think it was anything else.
The rest of the drive passed in silence. Bart's house was set in its own grounds, surrounded by trees and shrubs, the lawn kept smoothly green; a tennis-court was visible at the back of the house, as was a swimming-pool. Eve had a chance to admire the house as they drove down the long gravel driveway, liking the way it had been designed with a much smaller country cottage in mind, wild roses climbing all over the front of the house.
'It's beautiful, Bart!' Her face glowed as she turned to him.
'I hoped you would like it. I find it a lot more peaceful than living in town. People are less inclined to just call in here.'
Eve smiled. 'I can imagine they would be.' It was exactly the reason she lived in Norfolk. He smiled back, taking her suitcase out of the boot. 'Come on, I'll introduce you to the most important woman in my life.'
Her smile faded. 'She lives here?
'Yes,' Bart nodded, taking her arm in a firm grip and taking her into the house. 'Maisie!' he called, throwing his car keys on the hall table. 'Maisie,,we're home!'
Eve barely noticed the comfort of Bart's home, the open-plan design, the easy-chairs and scatter rugs, the complete homeliness of their surroundings.
Bart had his mistress living here! Not an apartment in town at all, but here, in his own home, in the home he had invited her to share too!
'She's probably upstairs,' he told Eve. 'I'll just go up and get her.'
She felt more ill than ever now. Bart's mistress was probably upstairs all right, and she was probably waiting for him to join her. Oh, this was going to be awful!
She could hear the murmur of voices now, Bart's deep attractive tone and a light female one. God, she couldn't do this, this situation was going to be impossible. She had to get away from here—if only her feet weren't glued to this highly polished floor!
A woman appeared at the top of the stairs, a woman of at least fifty. No mistress this, although Bart's arm about her shoulders was evidence of his affection for her.
The woman walked down the stairs, a slight limp to her left leg, her iron-grey hair pulled back into a bun at her nape, her face weathered and lined, her body portly rather than plump. Bart followed behind her, the mockery in his dark green eyes openly taunting Eve. He knew exactly what she had been thinking, had deliberately nurtured that impression.
‘Hello, dear,' the woman called Maisie greeted her warmly. 'I'm sorry I wasn't down here when you arrived,' she limped over to where Eve still stood. 'I was just putting the finishing touches to your room.'
Eve swallowed hard. 'I—Thank you.'
This is my housekeeper, Eve,' Bart drawled, obviously enjoying her confusion. 'Maisie is Adam's mother. You remember Adam?'
She remembered the chauffeur very well. 'Er—yes.'
She put out her hand politely. 'I'm pleased to meet you, Mrs----'
'Maisie will do, dear,' the other woman said cheerfully. 'I've got no time for formality. Bart will tell you that,' she smiled at him fondly.
'Considering you almost brought me up I'd feel insulted if you called me Mr Jordan,' he said deeply. "Now can we have one of your delicious teas, Maisie?' he requested eagerly, obviously feeling his lack of lunch now.
'Give me two minutes,' she nodded. 'And take Miss Meredith's case upstairs. She'd probably like to freshen up too.'
'Yes, Maisie.' He grinned at Eve. 'Come on, no one argues with Maisie's instructions.'
'Go on with you!' the housekeeper tutted. 'You've always been too bossy for your own good.'
Instead of the rival she had been expecting Eve now sensed an ally. 'You've noticed that too, have you, Maisie?' She eyed Bart challengingly.
Maisie snorted with laughter. 'Met your match, have you?' she taunted him. 'About time too.' She disappeared into what Eve presumed to be the kitchen.
Bart smiled with open amusement now. 'Not what you were expecting, is she?'
Eve refused to rise to his bait. 'Shouldn't you be taking me upstairs?'
'Okay.' He picked up her suitcase, still laughing at her. 'But maybe if you were a little less suspicious you wouldn't keep jumping to the wrong conclusions.'
'I'm not wrong about you.' She followed him up the stairs.
'Aren't you?' He was suddenly serious again.
She shook her head firmly. 'I don't think so.'
He shrugged. 'If you say so. Maisie has put you in the room opposite mine.' He pushed open the door, the one across the corridor firmly closed.
Eve blushed. 'I—She doesn't think——'
Bart's expression darkened as he moved into the bedroom to throw the suitcase down on top of the bed, his movements savage. He turned
to face her, his eyes narrowed to steely slits, his stance challenging. 'Let's get one thing straight from the first, Eve,' he rasped in a controlled voice. 'You are here as my guest, nothing else. I have no intention of making that short trip across the corridor from my room to yours every night.'
'But Maisie...' she bit her lip.
'Maisie is well aware who you are and why you're here. This is my home, Eve,' he added harshly. 'I don't bring women here, not ones I intend sleeping with anyway. Maisie would have no hesitation in making her opinion of such an arrangement known. And I wouldn't insult her with such behaviour.'
He was furiously angry, she could see that. Bart didn't have the sort of temper that made him rant and rave at his opponent, he just became chillingly polite, his words rapier-sharp, his manner cold. She would have preferred a heated explosion of words, at least then she would have been able to retaliate. At the moment she just felt guilty for her suspicions.
She looked down at her feet. 'I'm sorry, I just didn't
want you to think that I---'
'Don't add insult to injury,' he cut in curtly, his mouth twisted with distaste. 'I think you made your opinion of "men like me" very dear on the journey down here. After what you told me I wouldn't touch you even if I wanted to.'
'Which you don't.'
'Which I don't,' he confirmed harshly. 'You have enough bitterness inside you already without my adding to it.'
Eve flushed, her eyes sparkling angrily. 'I'm not bitter-----'
'Yes, you are, damn you!' he snapped. 'How many men have you been out with the last five years?'
She glared at him rebelliously. 'A few.'
Red Rose For Love Page 10
