by Sara Craven
He nodded, his mouth set. ‘In that case you and I have had unprotected sex. And that’s why I’m staying in touch, and there’s nothing you can say or do to stop me,’ he added, between his teeth. ‘Because if there are consequences, I want to know.’
He walked past her to the front door and paused, looking back at her.
She wanted to speak his name. Had a crazy yearning to say or do something that would bring him back to her. That would close his arms around her, keeping her safe.
But her mouth felt frozen. Her whole body seemed suddenly paralysed. She could only stare at him, her eyes enormous in her white face.
Because there was no safety any more. No security. And if she’d been capable of sound she would have howled like a dog.
He looked back at her, his mouth curling in a small, grim smile.
He said, ‘I’ll be seeing you.’ And walked out, closing the door behind him.
She stood, leaning against the wall, staring unseeingly at the solid wooden panels of her own front door. The barricade that was supposed to keep out intruders. To protect her.
Except that of her own free will she’d jettisoned all her defences. Deliberately made herself vulnerable. Surrendered completely.
And now she might have to live with the consequences for the rest of her life.
I never even gave it a thought, she realised with a pang. Yet when I was with Colin, we always took precautions. Or he did.
Wanting Sam had filled her heart and mind to the exclusion of all else—including basic common sense, she thought, wincing. She’d been carried away on a riptide of emotion that had allowed for nothing but the total satiation of her senses.
She stirred restlessly. Being a fool was bad enough. She didn’t have to make excuses. Nor did she have to be a victim, either.
It was time she stopped feeling sorry for herself and took control of her own life again, she thought with cold calculation.
So, she would call her doctor in the morning and ask to be prescribed the ‘morning after’ pill. Endure the lecture he would undoubtedly see fit to give her, and which she so richly deserved. And that would fix everything.
And then she’d be able to tell Sam that there was no need for him to bother any further. That the situation was taken care of. Write ‘Finis’ at the end of the chapter.
Except that she didn’t actually know where to find him, she realised suddenly, and with horror.
Oh, God, she castigated herself. She’d been to bed with this man—yet she didn’t know his address, his telephone number, or even where he worked. The shame of it left her reeling. Not to mention the unmitigated stupidity.
She’d have to keep that from the doctor, she thought feverishly or he’d send her to see a psychiatrist. And who could blame him?
She began to walk towards the stairs, and paused, rigid with a new fear as she heard the sound of stealthy movement on the floor above.
Sam hadn’t simply been playing the dominating male when he’d checked the house, she thought, dry-mouthed. There’d been a genuine danger which he’d been aware of but she hadn’t. Until now—as all the statistics she’d ever read about women being attacked in their own homes rose up to haunt her.
She backed down the hall, reaching with damp, clumsy fingers for the telephone, only to see a yawning Janie appear on the half-landing.
‘Oh God.’ Ros drew a deep, shaky breath. ‘It’s you. You—you startled me.’
‘Of course it is. Who else were you expecting?’ Janie ran her fingers through her hair, peering down at Ros. ‘Where on earth have you been?’
‘I went out.’ Ros forced herself to smile, to attempt to speak normally. ‘I wanted some fresh air. It—it was such a lovely day,’ she added lamely.
‘Lovely?’ Janie echoed incredulously. ‘Are you kidding? We’ve had inches of rain, plus thunder and lightning. I took a couple of paracetamol as soon as I got in, and fell asleep on the bed.’ She paused. ‘Are you on your own? Because I could have sworn I heard voices. That’s what woke me.’
‘It was just the answering machine.’ Ros took a deep breath. ‘What are you doing back here so early anyway?’
Janie tossed her head. ‘I got Martin to bring me home. I couldn’t stand any more of his mother clicking her tongue and saying we were in too much of a rush over the wedding. She kept looking me up and down, trying to suss out if I was pregnant, the dirty-minded old bat.’
Ros sighed inwardly. ‘I thought you liked his parents.’
‘I bent over backwards to like them,’ Janie declared moodily. ‘But they clearly don’t think I’m good enough for their beloved son.’
In spite of her inner turmoil, Ros’s lips twitched. ‘There’s a lot of it about,’ she agreed, gravely. ‘But I might have reservations too if a child of mine suddenly rolled up with someone I’d never heard them mention before, saying they were engaged.’
‘Oh, I might have known you’d take their side.’ Janie’s tone was pettish.
‘I’m not taking sides at all,’ Ros assured her wearily. ‘I wouldn’t dare.’ She paused. ‘Are there any paracetamol left? Because I’m actually developing quite a headache myself.’
‘Really?’ Janie sent her a frowning glance. ‘To be honest, darling, you do look like hell. As pale as a ghost. Your day out doesn’t seem to have done you much good.’
‘I was just thinking exactly the same thing,’ Ros said with tired irony, and went upstairs to her room.
She wanted to sleep. To close her eyes and sink into blessed oblivion. But she couldn’t relax. Her churning brain wouldn’t allow it. Nor would her heightened emotions, prodded into turmoil by a host of unwanted memories.
Because Sam was with her—in this house, this room, this bed—and there was no escape from him. She could taste his skin, sense its texture beneath her seeking hands. She could feel the warm weight of his body grazing hers. The silken hardness of him filling her. The joy of him, and the unbelievable, unceasing pleasure.
She pressed a clenched fist against her trembling lips to repress a moan.
She had to do something to rid herself of this torment, she thought desperately. To exorcise this ghost who lay with her and whispered words of passion and desire that she dared not hear.
With sudden resolution, she swung her feet to the floor, reaching for a robe, catching sight of herself in the long wall mirror as she did so.
She paused and was still, observing herself closely and painfully. Searching for visible changes in the body she’d thought she knew so well, and which no longer, in some strange way, seemed to belong to her. Which might, already, be possessed by someone else.
A little quiver ran through her senses. She straightened her back, feeling the faint pull of her aching muscles, the voluptuous tenderness of her breasts.
Impossible, she thought wonderingly, that she should look no different. Yet the slim figure confronting her appeared the same. There were no bruises, she acknowledged wryly. No obvious scars. For a second her hand touched the flatness of her stomach, in a gesture that was pure question, then she realised what she was doing and snatched it away.
It’s my heart that’s changed, she thought sadly. And my mind. The other—well, that isn’t even an option.
She put on her robe and tied the sash tightly, then went barefoot up to her study.
After all, she reasoned, as she switched on the computer, she’d been able to exploit the excitement and sexual tension she’d enjoyed in Sam’s company. Now she could use the pain too, if that was all there was left for her.
She was still working two hours later, when Janie put a surprised head round the door.
‘I thought you were asleep. I came up to tell you I’ve put a Spanish omelette together, if you’d like some.’
‘Thanks.’ Ros smiled at her, flexing weary shoulders. ‘That’s really thoughtful, love.’
‘Oh, well.’ Janie gave an off-hand shrug. ‘Actually, I need to talk to you, Ros. To ask your advice.’
Ros bi
t her lip as she got to her feet. ‘I’m the last person who should be advising anyone,’ she said bleakly. ‘My life isn’t a conspicuous success at the moment.’
‘How can you say that?’ Janie led the way downstairs to the kitchen. ‘You have your career—this marvellous house. Even a man—of sorts.’ She pulled a face. ‘Where is Colin, by the way? I thought he’d be back from his rugby tour by now and well ensconced.’
‘Actually, no.’ Ros tried to sound casual as she sat down. The omelette, which Janie dished up from the pan with a flourish, smelt wonderful, crammed with ham, peppers, tomatoes and cheese. She picked up a fork. ‘Colin and I are no longer an item.’
‘My God.’ Janie’s eyes were like saucers. ‘Maybe I should go away more often. You could transform your entire life.’
Ros forked up some omelette. She thought, I’m afraid I already have…
‘So what prompted this?’ Janie demanded eagerly.
Ros shrugged. ‘It just—seemed the thing to do,’ she returned evasively.
‘Hmm.’ Janie gave her a narrow-eyed look as she filled two glasses with Rioja. ‘A likely story. My guess is that you’ve met someone else. And now you’re blushing,’ she added gleefully. ‘Come on—tell me everything.’
Ros said crisply, ‘You have a vivid imagination, Janie. There’s—no one.’
Janie pouted slightly. ‘Well, maybe you have a point. I’m still not sure that Martin’s the right man for me. Not if he won’t stand up for me against his parents.’ She sighed. ‘It’s all a bit of lottery, isn’t it? Perhaps I should have stuck to my plan and met “Lonely in London” after all.’
Ros’s fork clattered on to her plate. ‘No,’ she exclaimed, too quickly.
Janie stared at her. ‘How do you know?’ Her face was suddenly wistful. ‘He could have been the man of my dreams.’
‘Possibly,’ Ros said coldly. ‘And you’d be just another conquest for a serial womaniser. Something for him to brag about with his friends.’
Janie tossed her head. ‘Well, there’s no need to get so het up about it. After all, I gave him the brush-off, thanks to you. I don’t suppose I’d get a second chance, even if I wanted one.’
Ros reached across the table and took her hand. ‘Promise me you won’t try,’ she said urgently.’ I’m sure things will work out with Martin in the end—if you want them to—and you’re prepared to compromise. But if not you’ll meet someone else, Janie. I know you will. But not through some ghastly cheating, lying advertisement,’ she added passionately.
There was a pause, then, ‘Wow.’ Janie gave an uncertain laugh. ‘You sound as if you really mean that.’
Ros nodded, her heart as heavy as a stone in her chest. ‘Believe it,’ she said. And went back to her supper.
One day followed another in bleakness. Ros worked crazy hours, ensuring that when she went to bed she was too tired even to dream.
She went to the doctor, listened to his strictures about prevention being better than cure, obtained her prescription, and then walked, without the slightest hesitation, straight past the pharmacy. When she got home, she locked the slip of paper into a drawer in her desk.
My secret talisman, she mocked herself.
The book, however, began to go well, and by the end of the week she had enough to show Vivien.
She sat tensely, watching the older woman scanning the lines of script, her fingers rapidly turning the pages.
When she’d finished, Vivien said, ‘Keep this up and it will be the best thing you’ve ever done.’ She laughed. ‘It’s a total transformation. What’s happened to you?’
Ros thought, I fell in love. And forced herself to smile.
It was raining when she came out of the publishing office. Cursing under her breath, she turned up her collar, tucked her briefcase under her arm and scurried up the road to the intersection to look for a taxi.
She managed to hail one at last, but, to her fury, a man further up the street leapt out of a shop doorway and collared it.
‘I hope your tyres burst,’ she hurled after it, realising, even before she’d finished speaking, that another vehicle was drawing up at the kerb beside her.
She turned gratefully, and saw it was indeed a black car. But not a black cab.
All the breath in her body seemed to leave in one shocked, painful gasp as she recognised the Audi.
Sam leaned across and opened the passenger door. ‘Get in,’ he directed curtly.
‘No way.’ She almost spat the words. ‘I’ll walk.’
‘You’ll drown.’
‘My exact choice.’ Head high, she started off down the street, going in entirely the wrong direction, she realised with chagrin.
She heard the Audi’s door slam, and the purr of its engine as it cruised along beside her, making a mockery of her hurrying steps.
Sam spoke to her through the open window. ‘Don’t make this a problem, Janie. We’re starting to hold up the traffic.’
To her annoyance, she saw that, because there were vehicles parked on the opposite side of the road, a van and two other cars were indeed already waiting behind the Audi, with clearly mounting impatience.
As she hesitated, the van driver leaned out of his own window. ‘Do us all a favour, girlie, and get in for Gawd’s sake.’
The Audi’s door opened again, and, face flaming, Ros took the passenger seat.
‘This is harassment,’ she accused, fumbling with the seat belt. ‘Have you been following me?’
‘No.’ Sam took the metal clip from her and slotted it neatly into place. ‘I just happened to be in the neighbourhood.’
‘Really?’ Her tone was sceptical. ‘Doing what, precisely?’
‘Visiting a friend in hospital.’
She did not look at him. ‘You surprise me.’
‘Why? Because I have a friend?’ There was an edge to his voice. ‘Or because you’ve given me a compassion rating of zero?’
‘Those are both good reasons,’ she said. ‘But principally because it’s an odd time of day to be paying visits. You must have a very lenient boss. That is, of course, if you actually do work at all.’
‘Ah, yes,’ he said softly. ‘At our last meeting you credited me with a career as an extortionist. How could I forget?’
‘You obviously have a very poor memory,’ she said. ‘I also made it plain I didn’t want to see you again.’
‘And I told you with equal frankness that we were stuck with each other,’ he came back at her grimly. ‘At least for a while, anyway. So why not graciously accept a ride home?’
Her lips parted incredulously. ‘You expect—you want me to be gracious?’
‘It wouldn’t be my primary option,’ Sam returned coolly. ‘But beggars can’t be choosers. So, I’ll settle for what I can get. Even if it’s a fit of sulks,’ he added, shooting a lightning glance at her defensively hunched shoulder.
‘I’m supposed to be pleased that you’ve—hijacked me in a public street?’
He shrugged. ‘No more than I’m glad to have you dripping all over the inside of my car. Let’s say they’re just—necessary evils.’ He paused. ‘And as a matter of interest what are you doing in this area? It’s hardly the hub of the cosmetics industry.’
‘I had a professional appointment,’ Ros said coldly. ‘If it’s any of your concern.’
One moment, they were in an orderly line of traffic. The next, Sam had spotted a gap in the adjoining lane and dived across it and down a quiet side street, where he stopped.
He turned to look at her, the turquoise eyes blazing. He said slowly, ‘I can think of circumstances which would make it very much my concern. I’ve just come from a private clinic. It happens to specialise in cardiac cases, but there are plenty of others round here with very different purposes.’
‘Others?’ Ros echoed, and then realised. She said, with a little gasp, ‘I don’t even know if I’m pregnant. Not yet.’ She lifted her chin. ‘If you got me into this car looking for reassurance you’re going to be
disappointed.’
She paused. ‘But when—if,’ she corrected hurriedly, ‘I discover it’s true, that will be the time for making decisions.’
And tried not to think about the unfilled prescription in the locked drawer.
He said quietly, ‘I hope I may be consulted before you finally decide—about anything. Will you promise me that?’
Her throat closed. She said huskily, ‘It’s my body.’
‘But our child.’ The reminder was softly spoken, but it struck Ros to the heart.
As he restarted the car, she turned and stared out of the passenger window at the blur of buildings and traffic.
But whether her view was distorted by the rain or by the tears she was fighting to control was a question she could not answer.
CHAPTER NINE
WHEN the car eventually stopped, Ros was still too immersed in her unhappy thoughts to take much note of her surroundings. Accordingly, she was already out of the car and heading across the pavement before she registered that Sam had parked in front of a small block of flats in a street that bore no resemblance to her own Chelsea base.
She swung round to find him locking the car. ‘What the hell is this? What’s going on? You offered me a lift home.’
‘This is home,’ he said. ‘My home—at least for the time being. I thought you’d like to see it.’
‘Then you thought wrong.’ She drew a quick, sharp breath. ‘Where’s the nearest tube station?’
‘About a quarter of a mile away.’ He pointed out the direction with a casual gesture. ‘A brisk and very wet walk. Alternatively, you can stop being bloody-minded, come up with me, and have some coffee or a drink while we wait for the rain to pass. But make your mind up quickly, please. I’m not in the mood for pneumonia.’
She should have turned and gone instantly. Her hesitation had been fatal, and she knew it. She lifted her chin and walked through the double glass doors he was holding open for her.
They rode up in the lift in silence. Ros stood rigidly, her arms folded across her body, looking anywhere but at him. Knowing that he was watching her, and that she didn’t want to read the expression in his eyes. Did not dare to.
