by Helen Brooks
'Reece, you're wrong—about anyone being incapable of love,' she said quickly before she lost her nerve. 'Even the worst monsters in history loved someone.'
'Did they?' His voice held that note which she had heard once or twice before—a thick, husky silkiness that melted her bones. 'So fierce and determined, so vulnerable…' And that he had taken her mouth in a kiss that made her shake with the sweetness of it, his lips moving coaxingly over hers as he pulled her close to him but with a gentleness that made her feel like something rare and precious in his embrace.
This was a line, just a well-practised line, she told herself helplessly as the kiss became more intimate, his mouth parting her lips with a soft sigh, but it was no good. The blood was pounding through her veins like fire and her ears were singing with a strange heat that took away all coherent thought. He wanted her—physically he wanted her very much, she told herself as the hardness in the big male body so close to hers became apparent. But that was all it was. An animal desire with no commitment, no real tenderness, no future.
But then, as his warm mouth stroked her neck and throat with a hundred fleeting kisses, she ceased to think and just let her senses feel.
His mouth moved back to hers and she realised that he had somehow slipped her coat off her shoulders, moving her slightly so that it fell beneath her waist as his hands moved up under the thin cotton of her jumper and touched the silky skin beneath. His touch was like a million volts of electricity passing right through her and she stiffened with the force of it, but then his hands began a slow, erotic massage over her soft, supple skin and the last of her defences crumbled.
She could feel her body changing to answer the call of his manhood, her softness moist and warm, and knew even in her innocence that she was issuing an invitation that was as old as time and one that his experience wouldn't miss, but it was too late for caution. All she was conscious of were the sensations that his lovemaking was drawing from her quivering body, and she didn't want them to end—ever.
'Miriam?' His voice was thick and warm against her cheek as he drew back slightly to look at her with narrowed silver eyes. 'Come in for a nightcap? In the warm.' She knew what he was asking but her head nodded anyway, her mouth making a little lost sound as the warmth of his body left hers for a brief moment before he moved round the car to open her door and pull her into his arms again, his mouth hungry and almost savage now as his fierce need took over.
She wanted him—she wanted him so badly that she couldn't believe what she was feeling, but as he moved her into him and turned to walk towards the house a harsh flare of lights blinded her for a moment, causing her head to turn into the wall of his chest.
'What the hell…?' She heard his mutter a second before tyres screeched to a halt just in front of them, and as the lights were dimmed she opened her eyes to confront a sleek red sports car and the blood turned to ice in her veins.
'Darling…' Sharon slid elegantly out of the car, her slim, stockinged legs exquisite in black silk and her silver-blonde hair loose and flowing round her slender shoulders. 'I just had to see you…' Her gaze moved slowly to Miriam, as though she had just noticed her in the crook of Reece's arm. 'Oh, dear.' She smiled slowly. 'Have I come at a bad time, sweetie?'
'Not at all.' Miriam had jerked herself free of Reece's arm before the other woman had finished speaking, her cheeks burning but her eyes wide and clear as they met the hard green gaze head-on. 'I was just leaving; my car's parked round the back.'
'Miriam?' As she turned to make what she had hoped would be a dignified exit Reece caught hold of her arm, totally ignoring Sharon. 'I thought you were coming in for coffee?'
'Some other time.' She forced the hurt and anger that she was feeling inside to the back of her mind as she gave him a brittle, bright smile and carefully extracted her arm from his hold. 'I've masses to do tomorrow and some paperwork to finish tonight before I call it a day.'
'Please don't leave on my account,' Sharon drawled sweetly as she drew her long, expensive coat round her slim shape before slamming the driver's door shut. 'Reece is used to my dropping by whenever the need takes me, aren't you, sweetie?' She raised brilliant green eyes to Reece's face and then froze for a second before glancing hastily at Miriam again.
'I'm leaving because I have work to do,' Miriam said expressionlessly, knowing that she had to get away before she said something she'd regret for the rest of her life. 'Goodnight.' She turned to Reece and saw that his face was stony-hard, the silver-grey eyes lethal. 'Goodnight,' she said again breathlessly as she ducked her head and began walking, fast.
She heard his deep, cold voice say something to Sharon but couldn't make out the words through the pounding in her ears, and then, mercifully, she was round the side of the house and scurrying like a small rabbit to its hole as she neared her car.
'Start, please start; tonight of all nights, start,' she begged the cold engine frantically as she turned the ignition, hearing the cough and sneeze as it spluttered into life with a feeling of deep gratitude.
She went through the motions of reversing the car automatically, her mind buzzing with a thousand screaming recriminations, and then roared off down the drive far too quickly towards the main road, executing what virtually constituted an emergency stop before turning onto the main highway with her palms damp and her face wet.
She was a fool, such a fool, she told herself fiercely as the little car skidded through the traffic. To allow him such liberties when he had just told her that any sort of emotional commitment was anathema to him. She wiped the hot tears off her face with the back of her hand and ground her teeth loudly in the darkness. Fool, fool, fool.
She shook her head and then heard the blaring of a horn just behind her and realised that she had veered halfway across the outside lane. She'd have to pull over; she wasn't safe to drive like this. She managed to get off the dual carriageway at the next turn-off and drove along a quiet residential street before turning into an empty bus pull-in and switching off the ignition with shaking fingers.
The urge to cry had gone now, to be replaced with a stunned, icy-cold desperation that chilled her very bones. She was a fool, the biggest one ever born, she realised, because she suddenly understood the season for her total weakness where Reece Vance was concerned. It wasn't just physical attraction, a chemistry explosion of the senses, although those things were very real. She loved him.
She groaned out loud and hit her fist against the inoffensive steering wheel. How it had happened, when, she wasn't quite sure but it was a fact. She loved a man who didn't even understand the meaning of the word and, what was more, had a host of women, one of whom he was with now, who could outshine her in every way.
How long she sat there she didn't know, but when, after a long, long time, she started the car again her mind was calm if painfully savaged. She loved him. She was achingly sorry for all the hurt and pain he had suffered in the past, but one thing was crystal-clear. She had to protect herself, raise a barrier between Reece Vance and herself that was impenetrable, because he had the power to destroy her—to rip her to shreds and then walk away without even knowing he had done so. Perhaps Sharon and the others could take the terms he offered and be satisfied with physical gratification and material gain but she couldn't.
She pictured his big, lean body and hard-planed male face and felt a sense of loss that was indescribable. Was it possible to mourn what you'd never had? She nodded to herself bitterly. Too true.
She didn't sleep at all that night, and when morning sent the first pink rays of a new day over the horizon she forced herself to shower and dress, eating breakfast mechanically as she watched the sky change from pink-streaked grey to light-washed blue.
She didn't want to see him ever again and yet she did, desperately. Was it possible to fall in love with someone so hard so quickly? She shook her head at her own stupidity. Why was she asking herself that question when she knew the answer only too well? And Reece thought love was an illusion. Her mouth straight
ened into a tight line of pain as she felt the sickening lurch in her stomach that accompanied such thoughts. If only, oh, if only…
She arrived at the Vance residence a few minutes before nine. She could have started work an hour or two earlier—it would have been preferable to sitting at home with her thoughts—but Reece might have thought that she had arrived early in order to have some time alone with him and she couldn't have coped with that eventuality.
Vera and Dave were already hard at work preparing the ingredients for their famous pate when she arrived, and after checking the schedule for the day she walked gingerly through the hall into the main house to confer with Mrs Goode. She was anxious that the elderly housekeeper felt included in all the preparations for Barbara's wedding; from what Reece had told her the night before, Mrs Goode was as much a part of the family as any blood relative.
She found the little woman in the drawing room in front of a roaring log fire, and as she peered carefully round the door the housekeeper glanced up from the book she was reading and smiled instantly.
'Miriam. Do come and sit down a moment, dear.'
'I was looking for you, Mrs Goode,' Miriam said quietly as she sank down next to the frail little figure and smiled warmly. 'There are a couple of things I wanted to ask your opinion about.'
'You're a good girl, Miriam.' The remark took Miriam by surprise and she stared at the older woman for a moment in consternation. 'I can see that you can handle this perfectly well without an old woman messing things up,' Mrs Goode continued perkily, 'but that's not your way, is it? 'Bonny and blithe and good and gay…'.'
'He didn't tell you about the rhyme?' Miriam asked as hot colour flooded the pale silk of her skin.
'Only in the most complimentary way,' Mrs Goode answered quickly. 'He… admires you very much, Miriam; you must know that.'
'You think so?' Miriam smiled flatly. Admired? And what sort of emotion did he feel for the lovely Sharon? 'Weil, that's good, especially if he puts it down on paper when the job is finished. Most of our contracts are by word of mouth in this business.'
'Yes…' Mrs Goode seemed about to say more, but Miriam continued quickly before she could speak.
'Now, I was wondering about the seating arrangements for the buffet? Perhaps you could suggest…?'
The next few minutes were spent discussing technicalities, and as she rose to leave Miriam forced herself to speak the name that had been hovering on her lips all morning. 'Did Reece tell you about the decision on the flowers, Mrs Goode? Barbara wanted no silk, only fresh ones, so I've arranged for a little firm we deal with to come in on the day and fix them. I think we'll have enough to do without worrying about the flowers.' She smiled warmly.
'No, he didn't mention it, dear.' Mrs Goode shook her head. 'But then he was in a bit of a tizzy when he spoke to me last night.'
'Was he?' Her heart thudded to a standstill and then raced on at a furious pace that made her feel quite dizzy. 'Why was that?' she asked carefully.
'Oh, some problem on an overseas contract he's involved with.' Mrs Goode sniffed disapprovingly. 'Rang him here at home at ten o'clock last night, so they did. Got no respect for people's privacy, have they? Anyway, he called by my room to say he'd got to catch the six o'clock flight to France, so I suppose everything else went from his mind.'
'Yes, I suppose it did,' she agreed mechanically as she berated herself fiercely for the surge of hope that the housekeeper's words had given her. He had probably forgotten that she existed the moment the call had come through—or some time before that if Sharon had stayed. She thought again about the black-stockinged legs and classic little black dress that she had glimpsed fleetingly before Sharon had pulled her coat tight around her. And she would have stayed. She hadn't dressed like that for an evening at home in front of the TV.
And to think that she had been willing to give herself to Reece last night! She bit down on her lower lip hard. Willing? She had all but begged him to take her, she thought miserably as she remembered her uninhibited responses to his lovemaking.
'Are you all right, dear?' She came back to the present to find Mrs Goode staring up at her with a worried expression adding mote lines to the paper-thin skin. 'You look a little peaky.'
'I'm fine.' Or I intend to be, she added to herself firmly as she walked out of the room a moment or two later. There was no way she was going to crumple like a piece of discarded paper over this. She wouldn't. Her eyes darkened with resolve. She was a big girl now, partner in a successful catering firm, with her own career mapped out and the world her oyster. Reece Vance wasn't the only man in the world by a long chalk. But even as she thought them the words rang hollow and empty in the depths of her mind, mockingly unreal.
The next few days raced by in a whirl of activity that left no room for morbid post-mortems, and Miriam embraced the frantic schedule gratefully. She arrived home too tiled to think, often slipping into bed without bothering to eat and falling asleep as soon as her head touched the pillow.
Reece apparently phoned every day to check progress with Mrs Goode, and she made sure that she gave the housekeeper a report on the day's happenings each night before she left to avoid any necessity of speaking to Reece personally.
She could get through like this—she could, she told herself firmly on the fourth day of Reece's absence; it wasn't so hard really. Once he was out of her life for good it would be easy to pick up the threads again and carry on as though nothing had happened. The sick feeling in her stomach, the blanking of her mind at every opportunity, the weird dreams at night and frantic pounding of her heart in the day—all perfectly copeable with. And the urge to cry at the oddest times, the desolate pain—she'd master those too.
She was still persuading herself that everything was under control on the Wednesday before the wedding, after a particularly chaotic day when everything that could have gone wrong had done so. It was seven o'clock at night, she hadn't even begun to clear away the debris of the day and already she was a few hours behind her tight schedule that didn't allow any leeway. Two days to go. She shut her eyes and prayed for calm. They'd do it— they had to do it. But right now she was too tired to think straight.
'You look terrible.' She froze for just an instant before looking towards the door at the large male figure standing silently just inside the room. He looked tired, and utterly gorgeous. That much registered before she wrenched her eyes away and grabbed a large bin-bag of rubbish that she intended to take to the dustbins outside.
'Thank you so much,' she said sarcastically as she whisked a few more items of litter off the worktops into the bag. He'd been away a week and that was all he could manage? She hadn't expected any bouquets, but she was blowed if she was going to put up with this. 'You don't look so hot yourself,' she added tartly as an empty tin did a hop, skip and a jump off the worktop, scattering the last few drips of raspberry sauce all over her pale blue trousers.
Damn, damn, damn! She pushed back her mane of silky red hair that had long ago discarded its ribbon to lie in a flame-coloured sheen around her shoulders and prayed that the tears of exhaustion and rage wouldn't show in her voice. She hated him—she really hated him.
'I didn't mean you look terrible.' He had moved behind her to swing her round so quickly that she had no chance to escape his hold. 'Just… terrible.' He kissed the tip of her nose with great seriousness. 'Tired, exhausted, worn out.' He kissed her again. 'But still the best thing on two legs I've seen for a long time.'
'You obviously haven't been looking properly,' she said weakly, trying to summon up more anger to replace the rage that had melted the minute he had touched her.
How could he come back after being away so long and expect her to fall into his arms the moment he raised his little finger? But then… Her innate honesty came uncomfortably to the fore. She had done exactly that a few nights ago, and just after he had expressly laid out the guidelines for anyone foolish enough to get involved with him. Of course he had gone away thinking that she was his for the ta
king, easy, available, she berated herself bitterly. What else was there for him to think?
'I've missed you.' There was that note of surprise in his voice again, but she was too distressed to hear it. 'And thought about you a lot.'
'Have you?' She took a deep breath. 'Reece, there's something I have to explain to you—'
'This hair—this wonderfully alive hair…' He brushed his open fingers along the side of her cheeks and fanned her hair out into a red cloud. 'I've never seen anything like it in my life. You're beautiful, Miriam.' As he bent to take her lips she retained enough sense to lower her head quickly, moving out of his arms in one swift movement as she nerved herself for what she had to say.
She had to make him understand that she couldn't have a casual affair, become his plaything for a few weeks or perhaps months, until he tired of her.
She brushed her hair back behind her ears and turned to face him, wishing desperately that she had worn something other than an old T-shirt and somewhat worn trousers. But she hadn't known that he was coming home tonight, no one had said, and, anyway, maybe it was better that he saw her like this. He'd already said that she looked terrible, after all.
'Reece, that other night.' She looked full into his face for the first time, and the knowledge of his power over her hit her afresh as she watched the beautiful silver-grey eyes narrow with sudden watchfulness.
'Yes?' He made no attempt to touch her now, moving back a pace and crossing his arms as he looked down at her from a face that could have been carved in stone.
'I wouldn't like you to get the wrong impression,' she murmured weakly. 'I don't—' She stopped abruptly and then forced herself to continue. 'I don't sleep around, however it might have seemed—'
