The Temptation Trap

by Catherine George

  ‘Why?’

  ‘You know why, Rosanna. Goodnight.’

  Next morning Rosanna had a chat with her parents, then eyed the clothes in her wardrobe, frowning. Why, she thought suddenly, was it always so imperative to look her best when she saw Ewen Fraser? Last night it had been relatively easy, the inevitable little black dress. But today it was hot, with June sunshine blazing down on the capital, and without collecting something from the flat the only thing suitable—and unseen before by Ewen Fraser—was a long, fluted skirt in dark blue cotton printed with faded cream roses. Very appropriate, she thought wryly, and added a plain navy T-shirt as an antidote to too much romanticism.

  That Ewen approved was obvious by the gleam in his eyes when he opened the door of his smart little mews house to her later that afternoon.

  ‘Beautiful and punctual,’ he said, opening the door wide for her. ‘An unbeatable combination. Welcome, Rosanna.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She looked round with interest. ‘So this is your house. I like it very much. it’s so—’

  ‘Empty?’ He grinned, and waved a hand around him. ‘All my own taste.’

  Spiral stairs bisected the living area. In one half a low circular table stood on a worn Persian rug between a pair of sofas covered in natural linen. The other section was emptier still, furnished with only a pair of deep leather chairs and a television, every available inch of wall space lined with crowded bookshelves.

  ‘Uncluttered,’ said Rosanna approvingly. ‘Very nice indeed.’

  ‘I haven’t been here long. This is as far as I’ve got.’ He nodded his head towards a door at the back of the room. ‘The kitchen—alias the room with the microwave—is out there. Would you like tea now?’

  ‘Not just yet.’ Rosanna sat down on one of the sofas. ‘Break it to me first. Did you read my manuscript?’

  Ewen sat down opposite her. ‘I did,’ he said gently. ‘And it wasn’t as dire as you made out.’

  ‘But it wasn’t good either, was it?’ she said gloomily.

  ‘Not if you’re aiming for something romantic. It’s well written, but it lacked emotional intensity. It’s more like an essay than a story.’

  ‘I know. Sad, isn’t it? Thank you for the kind words, anyway.’ She sighed. ‘At the end I felt I’d written the wretched thing in my lifeblood. Fiction obviously isn’t for me.’

  Ewen leaned forward, his hands clasped between his knees. ‘Maybe not. Though don’t rule out a further shot at it in the future. In the meantime you could put your talents to other use this summer, Rosanna. If you’d like to.’

  She eyed him warily. ‘Doing what exactly?’

  ‘Even from this one chapter I can see you did your homework thoroughly.’

  ‘Thank you. As I said before, the research part was no problem at all.’

  ‘In that case how do you feel about helping me out with mine?’

  Rosanna looked into the intent hazel eyes in surprise. ‘But I thought you’d already done that.’

  ‘I have. But when I’m writing I still verify at every stage.’ He leaned nearer. ‘If I printed each chapter as I go along, just getting the story down in full flow, as I’d prefer to, you could read the drafts, tidy them up and check the references, and when I need more information, as I invariably do, you could save me a lot of time by hunting it down for me.’

  She thought about it for a moment or two. ‘Does that mean you’d want me to work here?’ she asked.

  ‘Would that be a problem?’

  ‘I suppose not.’ She looked at him warily. ‘But you work long hours, Ewen.’

  ‘I wouldn’t expect you to do the same,’ he said quickly. ‘You can keep to office hours, or any hours you want. Any time you spare me will lighten my load. My deadline’s looming, and I’m already a bit pushed. Naturally I would pay you,’ he added.

  Rosanna frowned indignantly. ‘I wasn’t thinking about money!’

  Ewen jumped to his feet. ‘I know you weren’t. Just sit and think about it for a bit while I organise tea.’

  ‘Do you want any help?’

  ‘I remember you objected to that kind of thing in your last job,’ he said, grinning. ‘You just mull over my suggestion while I’m out there making scones and so on.’

  ‘Making scones?’ she said, laughing.

  He went off to the kitchen, leaving Rosanna deep in thought. And very tempted to take him up on his offer. He was right. She had loved the research part of the writing. But she doubted the wisdom of working at such close quarters with Ewen Fraser. There was a strong element of risk in the secret pleasure she took in his company. And in the very open pleasure he took in hers.

  Ewen came in with a large tea tray and put it down on the table in front of Rosanna. ‘I was joking about the scones, but I did make toast. The walnut cake was donated by my mother, I had sandwiches ready and there’s some anchovy spread for the toast. I’m rather partial to anchovies. Will you pour, Miss Carey?’

  Rosanna eyed the laden tray in astonishment. ‘Goodness, Mr Fraser. I’m impressed. How do you take your tea?’

  ‘Like my coffee.’ He sat down, smiling at her. ‘My brainwave of afternoon tea was inspired. Seduction and cucumber sandwiches just don’t mix.’

  Rosanna giggled. ‘True. What does it mix with?’

  Ewen took a sandwich and bit into it, then gave her a very straight look. ‘I’ve never actually set out to seduce anyone, so I can’t say.’

  Between them they made short work of most of the food on the tray, and afterwards Ewen took it out to the kitchen and left it there, flatly refusing Rosanna’s help. When he came back he sat down beside her with an air of purpose. ‘Before you decide about my suggestion there’s something I want to say.’

  She eyed him apprehensively. ‘That sounds ominous.’

  ‘Not really. I’d like to make it clear that if you don’t want to work for me I’ll understand.’ He stared down at the exquisite, faded design on the carpet.

  ‘Understand what?’ she said cautiously.

  ‘The reason. My behaviour last night. Listening in on a private conversation. And so on.’

  ‘Why did you listen—and so on?’

  Ewen turned his head and looked her in the eye. ‘Jealousy. Envy. Sheer bloody-mindedness. Take your pick.’

  She looked away quickly. ‘I’d like to work with you—’

  ‘But!’ he put in, resigned.

  ‘It would have to be on a purely professional basis.’

  His face cleared. ‘Of course. If I promise to remember your attachment to the absent doctor, blast his eyes, is the answer yes?’

  ‘Yes, it is,’ she said simply, and Ewen gave her a smile of pure triumph.

  ‘When could you start?’

  ‘Tomorrow, if you like.’

  ‘Of course I like,’ he said with emphasis, then looked thoughtful. ‘You know, if I installed another computer, you could read my output straight off the floppy disks. Would you print it, too? That would really speed up the process.’

  Rosanna agreed with enthusiasm, and followed Ewen upstairs to inspect his study. The room was very small, with just enough space for a large desk laden with computer, printer and fax machine. The walls were lined with overflowing bookshelves, and more books lay in piles behind the desk.

  ‘If you get another computer where would you put it?’ she asked blankly.

  ‘Downstairs by the television. I should be able to arrange it by Tuesday, I think. In the meantime,’ said Ewen with mounting enthusiasm, ‘perhaps you could do a little preliminary swotting.’

  Rosanna bent to look through some of the books. ‘I’ve read some of these already—Sassoon and Remarque and so on. But if you like I’ll take others home to read until you’re ready for me.’

  ‘I’d rather you did the reading here, Rosanna.’

  ‘All right. I’ll come over in the morning.’

  He held out his hand to help her up. ‘Do you have to hurry home yet?’

  ‘Not really. Why? Did you w
ant me to make a start right now?’

  ‘Of course I don’t. Stay and have supper with me.’ Ewen smiled, and released her hand. ‘From tomorrow we’ll keep everything strictly business. But tonight let’s just be—friends.’

  Rosanna looked at him in silence for a moment or two. She was making a habit of saying yes to Ewen Fraser, she thought wryly. In company with quite a few other women. Which was a point to remember. But the alternative was an evening alone in the big, empty house in Ealing, or a call on a friend on the off chance of finding one in. ‘All right. Thank you,’ she said at last. ‘Are you sending out, or do I have to cook it?’

  ‘Neither.’ Ewen smiled smugly. ‘I did some shopping, just in case. As someone once told me, it’s not much trouble to put a cold meal together.’

  Rosanna couldn’t help feeling flattered that Ewen so obviously desired her company. She was well aware that he desired more than that. But some instinct assured her that now she’d made herself clear where David was concerned Ewen Fraser was a civilised man who would keep to the rules. If she wanted him to. Which she did. Of course she did.

  ‘But I must get home early tonight,’ she warned as they went downstairs. ‘I’m starting a new job tomorrow, remember.’

  ‘Talking of which,’ he said briskly, ‘we need to discuss money.’

  ‘Must we?’

  ‘Yes. How much did Clayton pay you?’

  When Rosanna told him the hourly rate Ewen promptly doubled it.

  ‘But I can’t take that much,’ she objected.

  ‘Believe me, you’ll earn it,’ he assured her. ‘And don’t worry, I get my sandwich lunch delivered when I’m working, my cleaner comes in twice a week, and a laundry service deals with the shirts.’

  Rosanna smiled at him, her eyes dancing. ‘In that case I’ll make as much coffee as you like.’

  They sat down opposite each other on the sofas, Ewen leaning forward, animation in every line of him as he outlined what he’d written already, and how the plot was intended to develop.

  ‘Of course it doesn’t always go to plan. Unexpected twists happen along the way. Characters acquire a personality all their own, do things that surprise me.’

  Rosanna listened, fascinated, to the deep-toned voice with the attractive, husky break in it. Ewen’s enthusiasm for his work was infectious.

  ‘I envy you the talent to produce something like this. It sounds wonderful,’ she said after a while. ‘I’m flattered you want me to help with the process. What happens if it doesn’t work?’

  He frowned. ‘The plot?’

  ‘No. Having me around. You may find my presence intrusive.’

  Ewen shook his head firmly. ‘I admit I couldn’t share a room. But just having you on hand will be an enormous help.’ He smiled a little. ‘Even an inspiration in certain sections.’

  ‘Because I look like Rose?’ she said resignedly.

  He shook his head. ‘Because you’re Rosanna. And in my eyes, as you well know, utterly desirable.’

  Her heart beat thickly as their eyes locked across the small space, but Ewen raised his hands in a gesture she knew very well meant that he had no intention of acting on his words.

  ‘I promise never to refer to it once we start work,’ he assured her matter-of-factly, and jumped to his feet. ‘Right. If you’re determined to leave early I’d better get on with supper.’

  ‘I’ll help—’

  ‘No way! That’s not in the agreement.’

  ‘It doesn’t start until tomorrow, Ewen.’ She followed him into the small, streamlined kitchen. ‘I can’t just sit and do nothing. In fact, if it’s a cold meal I’m quite good at salads. Show me what there is to work with.’

  Ewen gave in with open relief. ‘Bossy woman.’

  ‘You’ll be glad of it tomorrow!’

  ‘I’m glad of it tonight,’ he assured her, and opened the refrigerator with a flourish. Rosanna nodded in approval as she took out two poached salmon fillets, then, after a search, added salad greens, bacon and a couple of eggs.

  ‘Any other vegetables?’

  A cupboard yielded small new potatoes, pale young carrots complete with their feathery leaves, and the shiny green pods of newly picked broad beans.

  Rosanna’s eyes lit up. ‘Wow. Where do you buy vegetables like these?’

  ‘Actually they were a gift.’

  ‘Lucky old you.’ Rosanna chose some beans and told him to start podding. ‘Can I have a rummage through your store cupboard?’

  ‘Help yourself! I thought you didn’t like cooking.’

  ‘This isn’t cooking, more like assembling.’ Rosanna pounced in triumph on a tin of anchovies and a jar of expensive olive oil, then filled two pans with water to boil.

  Ewen passed the beans over, watching her activities with interest. ‘Am I allowed to ask what we’re having?’

  ‘A sort of salad with a difference,’ she said, and lowered eggs into one pan before tossing the beans into the other.

  ‘Sounds good. I’ll cut some bread.

  Rosanna took a lemon from a bowl of fruit on the counter, and whisked the juice with the oil, then began grilling slices of bacon. When they were crisp she chopped them into the drained, cooked beans, tossed them in the dressing, added quartered hard-boiled eggs and laid the anchovies in strips on top, then arranged the salmon fillets on a bed of salad greens. ‘A bit fish-orientated,’ she said doubtfully. ‘I hope it’s your kind of thing.’

  ‘Perfection,’ said Ewen reverently a few minutes later, after the first mouthful. ‘If I paid you extra could you come up with something like this every day?’

  ‘Not a chance,’ she said, buttering a thick slice of olive bread. ‘My culinary bursts of genius are few and far between.’

  ‘So what do you live on in this flat of yours?’

  ‘Louise, my flatmate, is quite a star in the kitchen. When her social life allows, that is. When it’s my turn it’s usually pasta or salad.’

  ‘When the good doctor’s in the UK,’ said Ewen, his eyes on his plate, ‘does he live in this flat of yours?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Have you ever lived together?’

  Rosanna shook her head. ‘Though I’ve known David for years. He was at school with my brother.’

  Ewen’s eyebrows rose. ‘Surely he’s not the only man you’ve ever had in your life?’

  ‘In that particular way, yes. We went to different universities and we’ve both had other friends, male and female.’ Rosanna looked at him steadily. ‘David’s choice of profession means he’ll take a while to realise his ambitions. But it’s always been understood that when he’s passed various exams and managed to get himself published a few times we’ll get married.’

  ‘I thought doctors always married nurses, or other doctors,’ he said lightly.

  ‘This one’s going to marry me.’

  CHAPTER FIVE

  EWEN finished his meal in thoughtful silence, and cut himself more bread to mop up the last of the juices on his plate.

  ‘Your doctor must be a very patient man,’ he observed after a while. ‘Isn’t he worried that a more impetuous guy might come along and sweep you off your feet?’

  ‘One must be willing to be swept,’ she pointed out, and pushed her plate away.

  ‘And you’ve never been tempted?’

  Not until now, thought Rosanna with a sudden pang. ‘No,’ she fibbed. ‘Never.’

  ‘But are you never impatient to get married or at least set up house together and share your lives?’ he went on persistently.

  ‘I can tell you’re a journalist—you never give up,’ she retorted. ‘And no. I’m not impatient. I’ve got a career of my own, remember. David and I have been together since we were teenagers. It’s a way of life for us.’

  Ewen slid to his feet and lifted her down from the stool, then stood with his hands at either side of her waist, looking down into her dark, watchful eyes. ‘I’ve only known you a few days, Rosanna, but frankly I think the man’s mad to go
off and leave you for months at a time.’

  ‘David trusts me.’

  ‘Do you trust him?’

  She frowned, startled. ‘Of course I do,’ she said, with rather more force than necessary.

  ‘Do you never wonder what he’s doing with his spare time out there in Boston?’

  Rosanna detached herself, frowning. ‘No,’ she said shortly. ‘David’s other passion is trout fishing, not women. He’s not like that.’

  ‘All men are like that.’

  ‘I meant,’ she said hotly, ‘that if David were seeing someone else he’d say so.’

  ‘I very much doubt it.’

  ‘You don’t know him!’

  ‘True.’ Ewen gave her a very crooked smile. ‘Which is all to the good. I might tell him what a fool he is.’

  ‘David’s absolutely nothing to do with you. And his attitude to women is very different from yours,’ she snapped, then could have bitten her tongue.

  ‘I see.’ He stood back, his face rigid with offence. ‘Leave this. I’ll make coffee.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Dismayed by the sudden hostility in the air, Rosanna gave him a small, conciliatory smile. ‘I’m sorry. That was uncalled for. Could I have a piece of your mother’s walnut cake with my coffee, please?’

  For the rest of the evening Ewen pointedly made no more mention of David. Instead he concentrated on finding out more about Rosanna, and in the process discovered several common interests, including a habit of running at least a couple of miles every day. When they moved on to books eventually the subject led them to the work in hand, which absorbed them both so much that Rosanna was astonished when she realised it was time to go home.

  ‘But after tonight no more cabs. If I’m coming here every day I’ll use the Tube,’ she said firmly.

  ‘You will not,’ contradicted Ewen. ‘I forgot to mention that I’ll pay for transport. The job’s no sinecure, Rosanna. I flatly refuse to let you cope with the Underground after a hard day’s work.’

  As she prepared for bed later Rosanna decided Ewen’s concern for her welfare was very pleasing. David had known her so long he tended to take her self-sufficiency for granted. Which was natural enough, of course. She could take care of herself. It was rather nice, just the same, to be taken care of by someone else for a change.