Lonely Pride

by Tricia McGill

  * * *

  Sam struggled through the rest of the day—as she had since her return. Her legs barely supported her any more, a feeling of uselessness added to tiredness surrounded her, making her continually listless.

  Thank goodness Peter went off to visit one of his other stores, so Sam left the shop earlier than her usual time. As soon as she got in she ran a bath in the hope a soak in the warm bubbles would revive her lagging spirits. Not that she expected her spirits to ever rise again—they had reached the depths of despair. There was only one thing or person who could drag her from this pit and they were out of the equation now—due to her stupidity.

  Pulling her favorite wool dress from the wardrobe, she zipped herself into it. The fitted line accentuated her slimness. The neckline dipped at the front and fell in a gently curving sweep at the back to show a large expanse of her pale skin.

  The minute Peter set eyes on her when she opened the door to him she regretted her choice. His eyes positively bulged. “My God, darling, you look good enough to eat. How about we give the parade a miss, and spend a quiet night alone, here?” Lascivious eyes roved over her and Sam cringed beneath his blatant scrutiny. Why hadn’t she thought to put something on that covered her from head to toe?

  He brought a hand up and she shrank from it before it connected with his obvious intended target, her throat. He made a small sound of exasperation, but she ignored it and scooted out the door.

  “So, what about we give the disco a miss, then, and come straight back here after the parade?” His drawl, as they made their way across the hall, made her skin crawl.

  Sam sighed. He never gave up. What a fool she was. She should never have agreed to this. “I never said I’d go to the disco with you,” she snapped as she stepped into the elevator which she was relieved to see contained three people. “I’m coming home after the parade. Alone,” she stressed, uncaring if the others heard.

  He glared at her, but so what—she was past caring about his sensibilities. Thick as a brick was what he was when he got an idea in his head. If she’d had more energy since coming back she would have tendered her notice by now.

  He waited until they were in his Porsche before he continued, “I’m warning you, my patience is wearing thin. I never liked teasers.”

  Sam nearly laughed, but held it in. “Me, a teaser? You’re thinking of someone else, Peter.”

  “I don’t think so. You’ve been leading me on.”

  What was the point in arguing with him? She bit back a retort. As they travelled through the evening traffic she answered his idle talk with monosyllables. By the time he pulled up before the top class hotel where the parade was to be held he was infuriated, and didn’t hide his bad mood.

  As Sam undid her seatbelt, he leaned across to say with quiet insistence, “There will be a lot of influential people attending this shindig. These contacts are important to my business, so I’m warning you; don’t make a fool of me.”

  That stunned Sam. “Have I ever let you down?”

  He patted her knee. When she moved her leg abruptly out of his way, his jaw clenched. “Not professionally.”

  He passed the keys to the car valet and Sam had to endure Peter’s hot hand on her spine as they entered the foyer together. As soon as they entered the raucous gathering he was whisked away by a woman with a voluptuous figure and gushing personality. Glad of the respite, Sam wandered aimlessly about, accepting a glass of champagne from a waiter, even though she had no intention of drinking it.

  The frenetic din of the myriad conversations was enough to give her a splitting headache and she searched out a secluded alcove behind a potted palm. With a sigh she relaxed onto a padded chair.

  In an effort to blank out the sounds around her Sam rested her head on the wall and closed her eyes. Peter demanding, “What the bloody hell are you doing back here skulking amid this greenery?” shattered her moment of peace. “You should be out there mingling with our potential clients!”

  She hadn’t even sipped at her drink, and the glass sat untouched on a side table, but his florid cheeks and glassy eyes showed he’d obviously made the most of the free champagne. “I didn’t bring you here to hide in the shrubbery. Get out there and talk to people.”

  Sam bristled at his demanding tone. “I have a headache.” As she stood, he reached out to touch her, and she evaded his wandering hands, which displeased him enormously. “I wasn’t under the impression I was here as your PR officer.”

  “We’ll discuss it later,” he hissed. The music blaring from numerous loudspeakers made it almost impossible to hear him. Reluctantly, she took his proffered arm and allowed him to lead her to their seats beside the catwalk.

  She seemed to be the only one worried by the mixture of lights, noise, and movement. Her headache worsened. Under cover of a momentary dimming of the lights Peter managed to fondle a breast. Sam forced back a scream as she pushed the meandering hand away. What the hell was she doing here? With a muttered oath she leaned nearer. “My headache is developing into a migraine. I have to go to the ladies’ room.”

  None too gently he pulled at a strand of her hair. His annoyance came off him in waves. “All right. But hurry back, do you hear?” Of course she heard, he’d had to raise his voice above the din. The woman seated on his other side gave him a knowing glance. Sam apologized to the man at her side and he turned his legs sideways to allow her to get past him.

  Once in the rest room, she sank onto a chair and dragged in air. Bright lights flashed behind her closed eyelids. She hadn’t been kidding—this had all the signs of becoming a bad migraine. Every inch of her body ached. It was a sort of fatigue she’d never experienced before.

  “You all right, dear?” the friendly attendant asked, tapping her on a shoulder.

  Sam gave her a half-hearted smile. “No, as a matter of fact I’m not well. Do you think you could get someone to call me a cab?”

  “No problems. I’ll have one in just a tick.” Sam heard her using the phone to advise the doorman to get a taxi. “It’ll be just a few minutes,” she said when she returned to Sam’s side.

  Sam thanked her and hurried through the foyer. Half expecting Peter to catch up with her at any moment she sighed with relief once safely inside the cab.

  When she reached her apartment block she stopped to speak with the security man on duty. “Don’t let anyone, and I mean anyone, up to my flat.”

  Once in her flat she unplugged the phone, and then stripped to her underclothes. As she ran cold water into the basin Sam stared at her face in the mirror, unable to stem the flow of tears. They had fallen every night since her return from Tasmania. There would be hell to pay for running out on Peter.

  Switching off the light she lay on her bed and curled into a tight ball. When sleep finally claimed her she dreamt of Mac. Dreamt of his hands, gentle but demanding on her body. His lips, devouring hers. His strength surrounding her.

  As always when she awoke, alone, she sobbed out her despair.