Deception and Desire

by Janet Tanner

  ‘Sit down.’ He reached out lazily and positioned another pool bed alongside his own. She reached for the robe, drying her face with it before shrugging it on and sitting down. She was shivering a little, though whether from being wet or some other reason she could not be sure.

  He was still lying prone, eyes closed, face turned slightly away from her. But when he spoke the deceptively relaxed pose did nothing to lessen the impact of his words.

  ‘I know, Jayne.’

  She felt the shock like a line of fine wire drawn tight between each and every one of her nerve endings.

  ‘You know what?’ she asked, her voice forcedly light.

  ‘About you, of course, darling.’

  ‘Steve, what are you talking about?’ But she already knew.

  He rolled his head over then so that he was looking at her. He was smiling slightly but his eyes were cold.

  ‘Don’t play the innocent. I know what you’ve been doing.’

  ‘Steve …’

  ‘You are the mole at Vandina, aren’t you? You might have been hired as Dinah’s chief designer but that’s a cover. In fact, my love, you are an industrial spy.’

  She was shivering violently now. She held herself very taut so that he would not see it.

  ‘What makes you think that?’

  ‘I’ve been doing some digging. And I didn’t have to dig very deep. I started by drawing up a shortlist of suspects and I soon found it was a good deal shorter than I’d imagined it would be. First, the mole had to be in a position to be able to get hold of information about future plans. That cut out most of the workforce. Then it was likely to be someone who had joined the company recently. Likely, I say – it wasn’t impossible that a long-standing employee should turn traitor, but most of Dinah’s closest associates have been with her for a very long time indeed and they have demonstrated their loyalty over and over again. One thing no one can doubt is Dinah’s ability to engender loyalty. Most of her employees worship the ground she walks on. Then again, the likelihood is that the mole would have other contacts in the fashion industry. You fitted the bill on all counts, Jayne.’

  ‘Really?’ Jayne said coldly. ‘And do you really think I would risk my plum job with an established company like Vandina for an upstart outfit like Reubens?’

  Steve sat up, splaying his legs across the plastic pool chair. The sun gleamed dully on his bronzed skin but she felt no rush of desire now, only cold fear.

  ‘That was what puzzled me, I must admit. So I began digging. And what did I discover? Really, I don’t think there’s any need for me to spell it out. I think you already know what I’m going to say.’

  ‘Do I? Try me.’

  ‘All right, if you insist. I discovered that one of the people who put up a great deal of money to finance Reubens has a name not dissimilar to your own. Lance Peters-Browne. Now there’s a coincidence, wouldn’t you say? A very big coincidence. Peters-Browne is not, after all, a very common name, is it?’

  She did not answer. Her teeth were chattering.

  ‘Drew’s father,’ Steve said. ‘He is behind Reubens, isn’t he. That’s why you were quite prepared to risk your position at Vandina. You stood to gain a good deal more than simply a prestigious job if Reubens was successful. The financial rewards, both now and in the future, would be enormous. You probably saw yourself in a position similar to Dinah’s own. It must have been very tempting. A rosy future indeed.’

  Jayne drew the towelling robe very tightly around herself. There was no point denying it. Steve knew too much.

  ‘So,’ she said. ‘ When are you going to tell Dinah about me?’

  A little smile curled Steve’s lips. He swung himself around so that he was facing her.

  ‘I don’t know. I haven’t made up my mind yet.’

  ‘For goodness’ sake! Surely you might as well do it and get it over with!’ She stood up, made to move away. He caught her hand, stopping her.

  ‘I’m not sure about that. For one thing I don’t actually relish the thought of upsetting her. Dinah is very fond of you – she’s already distressed to think someone might be betraying her; it will be even worse when she knows it is you. I’d like to choose my time. After all, I don’t think there will be any more leaks now, do you?’

  She glared down at him. ‘How can you be sure of that?’

  ‘Because, Jayne, you really would be a fool to queer your pitch. After all, Reubens hasn’t made it big yet and perhaps now it never will. I’d say that without you tipping them off about our plans they will be all at sea. And in a straight fight we can see them off with no trouble – strangle them at birth. Vandina has an unassailable position and a reputation second to none. If you are stupid, Jayne, you could very easily finish up with nothing. But I don’t think you are stupid – far from it.’

  ‘It’s nice to know you think that of me, at least.’

  ‘Oh, I do. I have a very high opinion of you – in many ways.’ His eyes moved over her and in spite of the stress of the situation she felt the familiar stirring of desire. Recognising the weakness she fought it, gathering together all the scattered remnants of her composure and looking coolly at his hand in a silent command to him to remove it from her own.

  ‘Well, if you have quite finished, I suggest we join the others.’

  ‘I haven’t finished. Not quite. As I said, I do have a high opinion of you, darling. You are a quite incredible woman. We could be very good together, you and I, if you would only work with me instead of against me.’

  ‘Meaning?’

  ‘As I said just now, I think I can safely say there won’t be any more leaks of our plans – at least not unintentional leaks. But there might be circumstances where a leak might work to our advantage. Do you know what a double agent is?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Well you might consider using your talents in that direction. If Reubens believe you are still working for them it could be very useful. If your information flow dries up altogether they might become suspicious. So I suggest you still feed them titbits – useless, of course – and when the time comes you can pass on something not only useless but designed to throw them on to totally the wrong track. Carefully planned, it could help to speed up their demise.’

  ‘You mean you want me to help you ruin Drew’s father?’

  ‘I think Drew’s father has enough substance not to be ruined so easily. But anyway let’s not look at the negative side. Let’s be positive. You and me, running Vandina together. Doesn’t that appeal to you?’

  ‘But … Dinah …’

  ‘Dinah won’t be in charge for ever. She’s not as young as she once was, in spite of appearances. In any case, you can leave Dinah to me.’

  She smiled. Her fear was evaporating, being replaced by a sense of excitement. How was it Steve could do this to her? Loving him was like walking an emotional tightrope. He could build her up, knock her down, destroy all her defences and then just as suddenly instigate this heady anticipation for what lay ahead. But it was all part of the irresistible attraction he held for her.

  ‘You are the devil incarnate,’ she said. ‘I’m going to get dressed.’

  She went into the pool house, not looking back though she could feel his eyes following her. In the changing room she stripped off her still-wet costume and ran the shower. She was about to step into it when she heard him in the room behind her and her heart began to pound. She had known he would come but she gave no indication that she was aware of his presence.

  She stepped into the shower, turning her face up to the cascade of warm water, stretching her arms backwards so that her breasts lifted too. He came up behind her, taking her breasts in his hands and pressing his body against hers. She went weak again but she stood quite still, enjoying the contact and the sensations that it aroused. Steve – power and danger. Steve – whom she could hate and desire at one and the same time.

  He turned her to him, their bodies, slippery from the water, sliding and clinging. She arched agai
nst him and he entered her, taking her while the water cascaded over them. When it was over she cried out but he turned away from her with an abruptness that was hurtful, and she understood. This time he had taken her not only from desire but to set the seal on his mastery of her.

  ‘Get dressed, then,’ he said. ‘It’s time we were getting back to the others.’

  He was standing there, naked yet not in the least vulnerable. He looked strong and confident, a man who knew exactly what he wanted and that he would achieve it. She experienced a flash of anger.

  ‘Don’t think I’ll always do exactly as you say.’

  He smiled. It was not a nice smile. ‘Oh, I think you will.’

  ‘Perhaps this time it suits me. But we all have our Achilles’ heel, Steve. I’m not alone in that.’

  She did not know why she had said it, she was simply hitting out blindly in an attempt to redress the balance somewhat, but instantly she saw a moment’s unguarded wariness in his eyes. Almost at once it was gone again, his expression hardening to hide whatever it was she had seen revealed, but Jayne knew with a flash of excitement that there was something; unwittingly she had touched a raw nerve.

  ‘Are you trying to be clever?’ he demanded roughly.

  Jayne reached out to grasp the tiny advantage with both hands. To fight Steve was the only way to retain his respect – and her own.

  ‘No, I’m not trying to be clever – just stating facts. We all have something to hide, don’t we? Only some of us hide it better than others. And some things are more important than others.’

  Again she spoke purely from instinct, again she saw the wariness flash in his eyes.

  You are hiding something! she thought triumphantly. There is something you don’t want anyone to know – and you think I know what it is!

  His hand shot out to imprison her shoulder, his fingers biting hard into her bare flesh. She shivered from a sharp knife-thrust of exhilarating fear.

  ‘Don’t meddle in what you don’t understand! Just do as I say – right?’

  Her lip curled. She no longer felt totally the underdog.

  ‘Very well. Just as long as we are partners, Steve.’

  He said nothing, just shot her a look.

  ‘Get dressed,’ he said after a moment, then he turned and walked out of the pink-tiled changing room.

  Jayne towelled herself dry, ran a comb through her hair and slipped on the white dress. Steve’s finger marks still stood out, red weals on her shoulder, but there was no other evidence of their violent coupling.

  She lingered for a few moments, playing the conversation over in her mind as she adjusted her make-up. So – he’d found her out. It was almost a relief. But she had also learned that he had something to hide. Remembering the partnership he had more or less offered her, she smiled again. Oh yes, it could be far better than anything Reubens could offer, position and power in an established company – and Steve too. It could all work out very well, particularly if she could discover what it was that he did not want anyone to know. Except that it hardly mattered that she was still ignorant of whatever it was. He thought she knew. That should be enough.

  By the time Jayne emerged from the changing room there was no sign of Steve. She made her way back through the gardens to join the others.

  They were all still there just as she had left them, Dinah and Don on the swing seat, Drew dozing, face down, on the sun bed. And Steve was with them, standing at Dinah’s elbow, towering over her as he talked to her.

  It was almost symbolic, Jayne thought. Steve had Dinah in the palm of his hand. Through him she, too, would gain a measure of control.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Mike arrived home shortly after six. He fixed himself a meal by reheating some bolognese sauce from the freezer and cooking a pan of fresh pasta, and carried it into the living room, switching on the television and positioning his chair so that he could watch while he ate.

  The national news came on at six thirty-five but Mike paid scant attention to it. He was, to his dismay, thinking about Maggie again, and he wondered what the hell was the matter with him. He had been thinking about her on and off all day, disturbing thoughts that he cursed himself for having but seemed powerless to prevent. Somehow she had got under his skin and she was there with him every waking moment whether he was actually thinking about her or not.

  When had it begun? he asked himself in a rare bout of self-examination, but he couldn’t come up with an answer. It had happened so insidiously. At first she had simply been Ros’s sister but somewhere along the line the balance had changed.

  For some time now he had entertained doubts about his relationship with Ros, he realised. At first they had been camouflaged somewhat by the suspicion that he could not totally trust her, and though he had backed away from a serious commitment, fooling himself that he was simply afraid she might let him down as his wife had done, he had begun to wonder if perhaps there was more to it than that. If he had been completely in love with Ros wouldn’t the trust have followed automatically? And wouldn’t he have been prepared to risk being hurt if he had wanted her enough? More likely the caution had been born of an instinct which had told him that Ros was not the right woman for him, and fear of his pride being dented again had made him determined to hold on to her.

  But since he had found her gone he hadn’t really missed her as a man should miss the woman he loved. He was concerned, yes, but Ros had become less and less important – the priority had shifted so that finding out what had become of her had stopped being an end in itself and become, in part, an excuse for seeing Maggie.

  He hadn’t realised the way he had begun to feel about her, hadn’t admitted it to himself, until last night. And then, all at once, it had hit him and he had realised with a sense of shock just how much he wanted her.

  Mike shovelled spaghetti into his mouth as if assuaging his hunger for food could also assuage that other hunger that was eating away at him – hunger for Maggie – even though he knew very well it could not. Maggie had a husband in Corfu and a fierce sense of loyalty to him, even if the marriage was less than happy. She had made that quite clear. When this was all over she would go home to Corfu and her husband and her less-than-perfect marriage and he would just have to accept it. Except of course that it was not that easy.

  The main news ended and the national weather forecast came on. A depression was heading in towards the south-west. The south-west and me both, Mike thought grimly.

  The familiar face of one of the local presenters appeared on the screen reading the local headlines. Mike was still only half listening, then, suddenly, the newscaster’s words seemed to burst through his state of inattention.

  The man who had fallen to his death from the suspension bridge the previous night had been named as local broadcaster and musician Brendan Newman.

  Mike froze, a forkful of spaghetti halfway to his mouth. For a moment he thought he must have misheard but no, a photograph of Brendan was being flashed on to the screen. Mike stared at it stupidly, still hardly able to comprehend what he was hearing. The photograph disappeared, the newscaster moved on to the next topic and still he stared, the words replaying themselves in his ears.

  Brendan – dead. Brendan – the man who had fallen from the suspension bridge. No, not fallen – jumped. No one fell from the bridge by accident – at least he’d never heard of anyone who had, unless it was an industrial accident. If Brendan had gone over the side it must have been deliberate. But why the hell should he do something like that? Unless …

  Ros, Mike thought. Brendan did have something to do with Ros’s disappearance, and he knew we were on to him, so he has taken the coward’s way out and killed himself. He put down his fork, still coiled with spaghetti. He was not hungry any more.

  Did Maggie know about this, he wondered? Had she, like him, just heard it on the news? Perhaps – and then again, perhaps not. He went to the phone, picked it up, put it down again. If she knew, she would almost certainly ring him; if she did
not he did not want to tell her this way. She was going to be dreadfully upset, better that he should be there with her when he broke the news.

  Mike carried the remains of his supper into the kitchen, scraped it into the bin and piled the plate and saucepans into the sink. Then he fetched his jacket and car keys and went out, slamming the door shut behind him.

  Maggie had not heard the news. When there was nothing left in the cottage to occupy her she had gone for a long reflective walk and when she had returned she had turned the radio on, filling the emptiness with music and inconsequential chat whilst she made herself a sandwich and ate it.

  When she heard the knock at the door she was surprised – and a little disturbed. She could not think who could be calling on her – unless it was the police with some news, which, under these circumstances, was almost bound to be unwelcome. Tense with dread she answered the door to find Mike standing there.

  Her first reaction was one of relief. Then she saw his grim expression, telling her without words that something was seriously wrong and fear returned all of a rush. ‘Mike! What is it? What has happened?’

  ‘Let’s go inside.’ He led her into the kitchen. ‘Sit down Maggie.’

  She remained standing. ‘Why?’

  He could tell from her reaction that she did not know.

  ‘Please, Maggie, sit down. There’s something I have to tell you that is going to come as a shock.’

  She blanched. ‘ Ros?’

  ‘No, not Ros.’ He pulled out one of the kitchen chairs and eased her into it. ‘It’s Brendan.’

  ‘Brendan? What about him?’

  ‘There’s no easy way to say this. Something rather terrible has happened to him.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘He’s dead.’

  ‘Brendan!’

  ‘Yes, I heard it on the local news. He fell from the suspension bridge last night.’

  ‘Oh my God!’ Her eyes, blank with shock, met his. ‘You don’t think … ?’

  ‘That he committed suicide? Well – that is the obvious conclusion.’