The Seduction Game (Harlequin Presents)

by Sara Craven

  ‘So why will you be there?’

  ‘We designed their new offices in Docklands. I thought it might give you a chance to network,’ he added silkily. ‘Leo mentioned to me recently he was hoping to extend the firm’s media base. I know he wants you to go.’

  ‘Oh.’ Tara gritted her teeth, realising she’d been ambushed. ‘I see.’

  ‘I’ll get my secretary to fax you the details,’ he went on. ‘And I’ll look forward to seeing you there.’

  ‘Oh, hell,’ Tara said stormily as she replaced her receiver.

  There were phone calls from Becky to field, too. Her sister chatted airily about every subject under the sun—but never mentioned Adam. So clearly they’d been in contact, Tara thought broodingly, although her pride wouldn’t allow her to ask outright.

  She could always develop a last-minute illness, she told herself, as she zipped herself into her little black dress a few nights later.

  If this party hadn’t been hanging over her head she might have enjoyed her day. She’d been called by an ecstatic Charlie Haydon, telling her Adam had offered him the job, and two of her other recommendations had similarly good news to report.

  But I don’t have to stay, she consoled herself, as she tried to restore some élan to her pale face with blusher. I can call in briefly, do the rounds to keep Leo happy, then vanish.

  She gave herself a last unhappy look in the mirror. She would have to do something to pull herself together—put her life back in order before her parents returned the following week, she thought. She couldn’t present them with another emotional disaster.

  She delayed as long as possible before taking a cab to the hotel. The party, she knew, was being held in the Park Suite, and it should be in full swing by now. Hopefully her arrival would pass unnoticed. Also her speedy and subsequent departure.

  She was greeted by a hubbub of noise and a sea of people in which it would be easy to float for a few moments, she thought, taking up her position on the sidelines in an effort to be unobtrusive.

  ‘Hi,’ said an amused voice. ‘You must be Tara.’

  She found herself confronted by a lean brunette, with high cheekbones and smoky eyes.

  ‘Yes,’ she acknowledged. ‘But I’m not sure...’

  ‘Bernie—as in short for Bernadette—Vance,’ the other girl introduced herself, pulling a face. ‘I work with Adam. He told me to look out for you. I’d just about given you up,’ she added candidly. ‘But now you’re here, have some champagne.’

  She signalled to a waiter, and Tara accepted the glass she was given.

  ‘So, you’re the girl who pointed Charlie Haydon at us,’ Bernie went on. ‘I’m seriously impressed.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Tara sipped her champagne and tried not to look round the room for Adam.

  ‘I’ve been told to introduce you to some people.’ Bernie stared about her. ‘Now, where shall I start?’ she mused. ‘Emaciated model or advertising junkie—which would you prefer?’

  Tara laughed in spite of herself.

  ‘Neither, honestly. I’m sure you have better things to do than nursemaid me.’

  ‘In other words, I walk away and let you do a runner.’ Bernie shook her head. ‘Adam would have my guts. He warned me you’d probably try it.’

  ‘How nice,’ Tara said too sweetly, ‘to work with a man who’s always right.’

  ‘Better that than having to work with a man behaving like a bear with a sore head,’ Bernie retorted vigorously. ‘And that’s what he’s been like, believe me.’ She grinned suddenly. ‘But at least tonight there’s someone in a worse state than he is. Caroline’s got to make a speech presently, and she’s dreading it. He’s with her now, trying to calm her down.’

  ‘Oh,’ Tara felt hollow. ‘I didn’t know she’d be here.’

  Bernie gave her an astonished look. ‘I don’t think she had much choice. She is the new editor of Woman’s Voice, after all. This is her party.’

  ‘I—see.’ How could he be so cruel? Tara asked herself hotly. Putting us in the same room like this on such an important night for her.

  She pinned on a bright smile. ‘She’s the editor and Adam designed the new offices. What a cosy arrangement.’

  ‘Keeping it in the family, you mean?’ Bernie shot her an amused glance. ‘Sorry, but it wasn’t like that at all. Caroline was approached for the editorial job quite a time after we were appointed. She was head-hunted, actually, much to her own surprise. I think she believed she was past it—which is nonsense, of course.’

  ‘Of course,’ Tara echoed. ‘Oh, there’s someone I know,’ she fibbed. ‘You don’t mind if I go and speak to her?’

  She walked away quickly before Bernie could think of an objection, hiding herself among the laughing, chatting groups, until a swift glance assured Tara that her minder had moved on.

  And I shall do the same, she told herself, putting her empty glass on a table.

  There was a stir at the far end of the room, and a ripple of applause, and Tara saw Adam come in, with a familiar blonde figure walking beside him, holding his arm.

  So, it seemed he had been forgiven after all. And she should be glad about it. Glad that those few hours of temporary madness hadn’t ruined more lives than her own. Only she wasn’t. She couldn’t be.

  She turned away hurriedly, tasting the sudden scald of tears in her throat, colliding with someone as she did so, and muttering a hasty apology as she headed for the door.

  ‘Tara.’ A hand on her arm detained her. ‘My God, it is you.’

  Tara looked at the man confronting her, her lips parting in shocked disbelief. ‘Jack?’

  ‘No other.’ His eyes appraised her. ‘You look—successful.’

  And you’ve put on weight, she thought, remembering the swarthy good looks which had once seemed so desirable. Now he simply looked—complacent, even smug.

  She said, ‘So you didn’t stay in Brazil?’

  ‘No, that didn’t really pan out.’ He shrugged. ‘I’ve been back for a while. I’m doing consultancy work—independent financial advice—that kind of thing.’

  ‘Then why are you here?’

  ‘Damned if I know, actually.’ He shrugged again. ‘When you’re a spare man, all kinds of odd invitations turn up.’ He laughed. ‘So when this one arrived the other day I decided to accept with thanks. I’ve never been one to refuse free champers.’

  The mass of people around them shifted, and, as if she was looking down a brightly lit tunnel, she saw Adam, standing alone, watching her. As their eyes met he raised his glass in an unsmiling toast, then turned away.

  My God, she thought with bitter incredulity. So that’s why Jack was invited. As my consolation prize.

  When Adam was asking me if I could forgive someone being unfaithful to me, it was because Becky had told him about Jack—about what happened between us. He was trying to gauge my reaction if he brought us together again.

  ‘Apart from the free champagne, I can’t say this bash has much going for it,’ Jack went on. ‘And I gather there are going to be speeches. Why don’t we go somewhere and have a real drink—fill in some of the gaps?’

  In the first bitter days of betrayal Tara had fantasised about him saying those very words. Now, her impulse was to blast him out of sight.

  Except that he was the lifeline that had been thrown to get her, with some dignity still intact, out of this room.

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Why don’t we?’ And saw his expression of self-approval deepen.

  Bernie caught up with her at the door, her face ludicrously dismayed. ‘Tara—you’re not leaving. But Adam wants to introduce you to Caroline. Please wait.’

  ‘So sorry, my dear.’ Jack’s tone was patronising. ‘This lady and I have another engagement.’

  She’d planned to dump him as soon as they got outside, but Jack had other ideas. Before she could speak, she found herself in a taxi with him, on her way to some bar he confidently assured her she would adore.

  ‘Best margaritas
in London,’ he told her.

  ‘I don’t think I want anything else to drink, thanks,’ she told him crisply. ‘I have a headache.’

  ‘Hair of the dog, darling. That’s what you need.’

  Had he always spoken in clichés? she wondered bitterly.

  One drink, she thought, and then she’d go.

  At the bar, which was a popular watering hole for City types, Jack ordered a margarita, but to his chagrin Tara insisted on an iced tonic water.

  ‘Come on, darling,’ he said impatiently. ‘You don’t have to play the Puritan with me.’

  ‘This is all I want.’

  ‘Oh, very well.’ He picked up both glasses and took them to a corner table.

  ‘So,’ he said, as she unwillingly took the seat opposite to him. ‘My lovely Tara—and not wearing any rings, I see,’ he added, taking her hand and studying it. ‘I thought Daddy would have married you off to some nice safe executive by now.’

  ‘No,’ she said, releasing herself, and fighting the impulse to wipe her fingers on her skirt. ‘He lets me make my own choices—and my own mistakes.’

  A more sensitive man might have twitched, but Jack’s smile remained undimmed.

  ‘So are you still beavering away industriously at Marchant Southern?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I’m an associate now.’

  ‘An associate, eh?’ he repeated with exaggerated admiration. ‘There’s posh.’ He leaned towards her. ‘You know, it’s bloody amazing, running into you like this.’

  Not, she thought, as amazing as you think. We were set up.

  ‘I’ve often wondered what happened to you—how you were getting on.’ He looked slightly uncomfortable. ‘I even thought about calling you a couple of times, but I wasn’t sure what reception I’d get. And now here we are.’

  ‘Yes.’ Tara sipped her tonic water, reflecting that her fictional headache was now a fact.

  ‘So what were you doing at tonight’s bash?’ His eyes were curious.

  Tara drank some more tonic. ‘Showing the company flag.’

  ‘Then maybe you should have hung on and met the amazing Caroline after all—although I don’t think she’ll need any help choosing her team,’ he added, with a faint smirk. ‘She’s a formidable lady, even if she is a bit long in the tooth.’

  ‘Long in the tooth?’ Tara echoed, bewildered. ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘About the new editor of Woman’s Voice,’ Jack said impatiently. ‘People at the party were saying they’d thought the board would go for someone young and thrusting. No one could believe it when they appointed a woman who’ll never see fifty again.

  ‘Of course, she doesn’t look her age, unless you get really close,’ he added. ‘But she gave herself away by having her son escort her. Everyone knows he’s in his thirties.’

  Tara touched the tip of her tongue to dry lips. ‘Are you telling me that Caroline is—Adam Barnard’s mother?’

  ‘Didn’t you know?’ Jack gave her a pitying look. ‘You weren’t very well briefed, darling.’ He frowned as she pushed back her chair. ‘Where are you going? I thought we might go on to a club—make a night of it.’ He gave her the smile that had once made her heart swoon. ‘Catch up on old times. Invent a few tomorrows.’

  She shook her head as she picked up her bag. ‘No, Jack, thanks.’ She gave him a swift, radiant smile. ‘You see, the truth is—’ she lowered her voice ‘—I wouldn’t have you if you came gift-wrapped. But no hard feelings.’

  She managed to pick up a cab right away, and asked to be taken back to the hotel. With luck, she thought, the party would still be in full swing, and she would see Adam—find out the truth for herself.

  Her luck ran out a couple of minutes later as her driver braked. ‘Bit of a jam up ahead,’ he told her. ‘Looks as if two cars have smacked each other.’

  ‘Oh, no.’ Tara bit her lip. ‘Can we turn off—go another way?’

  ‘Not in this traffic, love.’ He switched off the meter, and they sat for twenty minutes until the collision was sorted out and the damaged cars moved.

  ‘Still up for the West Lane Hotel?’ the driver asked as he started the engine again.

  ‘No,’ she said. Even now the traffic seemed to be barely moving. And her confidence was fading too. Because, whatever Caroline’s identity, Adam was still going to be married to someone. He’d told her so. I suppose if I was reconciled with Jack, I wouldn’t be on his conscience, she thought wretchedly.

  ‘No,’ she repeated. ‘I think I’ll just go home instead.’

  As she mounted the stairs and rounded the corner of the passage leading to the flat she saw a dark shape sitting on the floor, leaning back against her front door.

  For a moment she was frightened, then it unwound itself and stood up, and became familiar.

  She said incredulously, ‘Adam? But what are you doing here?’

  ‘Waiting for you to come home.’ His voice sounded flat, and unutterably weary. ‘I had to stay—to tell you that however much you love him he’s not right for you, Tara. He’ll never make you happy.

  ‘I saw you with him—watched you leave with him—and I thought I was going to die. I wanted to follow you, to drag you back out of danger and keep you safe.

  ‘And all the time I was thinking—if he’s what she really wants, if she loves him, and is prepared to forgive him—then I’m going to have to find some way to live with that.

  ‘So, I thought I’d wait until you came back. Even if you were gone all night, I’d be here when you returned. And I’d talk to you—plead with you to change your mind. Because the Jack Halstons of this world never change. They’re predators, always looking for the next victim. And it broke my heart to think how unhappy he could make you.’

  ‘But you sent him to me.’ She couldn’t see his face in the dimly lit passage, but she could hear the pain and loneliness in his voice.

  ‘Because you wouldn’t tell me about him, and I thought that must mean that you still cared—that you were still hurting. Maybe he was the only one who could put the light back in those frightened eyes of yours. I told myself you deserved to make that choice.’

  He paused. ‘Why did you go with him?’

  ‘Because I couldn’t bear to stay,’ she said. ‘And he was an excuse. Because I swore that I’d never let anyone hurt me again—and then found I didn’t even know what pain was until I faced the emptiness of losing you.’

  She threw her head back. ‘I stopped caring about Jack a very long time ago, but I went on using his memory as a shield. Out of habit, I think. But when I met you, I realised you can’t shut yourself away from life—from emotion. You have to risk the pain and accept the consequences. Or you’re only half alive.’

  She paused. ‘Why didn’t you tell me Caroline was your mother?’

  ‘I meant to,’ he said. ‘I was going to—as soon as you took one step towards me, instead of two steps back. In the meantime it gave you someone to focus on. Stopped you asking awkward questions about the girl I was going to marry.’

  His voice roughened. ‘I knew from the first it wasn’t going to be easy to get close to you. I was terrified if I pushed too hard—came on too strong—I might frighten you. That you might run from me, and I couldn’t risk that.’

  He shook his head. ‘I thought if I could present myself to you just as a friend you might start to trust me. To like being with me.

  ‘I swore I’d be patient—let you dictate the pace—and the terms—but you made it so difficult. I used to walk for miles with Buster, just to put some distance between us, but even then you were in my head every step of the way. My God, I used to fantasise about you naked like some adolescent I used to look across at your house and imagine you there—at the window—waiting for me.’

  She gave a little breathless laugh. ‘You don’t know how true your fantasy was. That’s why I tore up your painting—because I thought you’d actually seen me and I was embarrassed.’

  There was a silence, then he said
carefully, ‘I really wish I’d known that’ He paused. ‘And I’d like to see you now, only the lighting out here makes it difficult.’

  ‘Would you like to come in—for coffee?’ She was shaking inside, half-joyful, half-scared. She unlocked the door and went in, switching on the lights.

  Adam followed, taking her by the shoulders and turning her to face him, his blue eyes scanning her face with heated intensity.

  He said, ‘I love you, Tara. And I want you to be my wife. From the moment I saw you, hurtling through the front door in a fury, I knew you were the one. It was that simple.’

  Her voice shook. ‘Adam—this is crazy. You—you hardly know me.’

  ‘Is that a fact? Then how is it I don’t need to ask what your favourite colour is—or what books you read? The music you prefer? Because I already know. I’ve always known about you. You were implanted in my brain when I was born, and all I had to do was find you. And if we’d only met for an hour it wouldn’t have changed a thing. Because you’re my other half. My completion. So don’t tell me it’s too soon, my only love. We’ve wasted too much time already.’

  He looked down at her searchingly—pleadingly. ‘I’ll wait for you, Tara, if that’s what it takes. Just as I did tonight, and for as long as you need. Only don’t send me away this time.’

  ‘No,’ she said, and her lips trembled into a smile. ‘Not again. Never again.’

  He kissed her, and the world went away. They clung to each other, half-laughing, half-crying.

  ‘We were going to have coffee,’ she teased against his lips.

  ‘No coffee,’ he whispered back. ‘No tea—or orange juice or any other damned thing. Just you—now and for always.’

  They left a trail of clothing all the way to the bedroom. For a while they let themselves know the peace of lying in each other’s arms, lovers no longer afraid to speak their love, or to look at each other. Able to smile without shadows.

  He began to kiss her delicately, his lips brushing the wing of her eyebrow, the curve of her cheek, the pulse in her throat, and she felt her breathing quicken as the sweet, erotic tension began to build within her.