by Unknown
Afterwards he had promised to take her out for dinner.
One of the reasons Sandra had been so comfortable about accepting George's overseas posting had been because they had known that the live-in, sixth form private college where Charlotte was studying, which specialised in her chosen subjects—and where she had begged her parents to be allowed to go—placed a huge priority on its students' welfare and safety. It had been agreed that she could go, but only after a long, reassuring discussion with the school's principal about the precautions they took to supervise the students and ensure their safety.
Charlotte would, also, have the benefit of members of her father's close-knit family on hand to turn to should she ever need to do so.
That of course had been before Seb himself had been headhunted by Aarlston-Becker and everything seemed to fall into place for him to be near his daughter.
Reaching for the telephone he punched in the numbers of the selling agents to confirm the appointment he had made to re-view the property this evening with Charlotte and to tell them that he was prepared to offer the full asking price.
The next stage of the purchase would involve him finding himself a solicitor and once again he suspected he would be wise to accept Guy's advice and instruct Jon Crighton to act for him.
Katie glanced at her watch. Time for her to leave if she was to meet the agent on time. Tidying up her desk she reached for her mobile phone, popping it into her bag.
They were having a spell of good weather with long sunshiny days and high temperatures, which made the wearing of traditional formal office clothes too heavy and uncomfortable.
Instead, aided and abetted by her mother and her cousin, Katie had paid a visit to Chester, which she had combined with a brief but very enjoyable lunch with Luke Crighton's wife, Bobbie, and a whirlwind shopping trip that had resulted in the purchase of what she had complained to her mother was virtually a completely new wardrobe.
She had felt even more guilty about the extravagance of her purchases when her mother had insisted 'these are my treat, Katie.'
Now though, as the elegant cut of the smart black linen mix, button-back dress swirled softly round her legs, she had to admit that she was glad she had allowed herself to be persuaded. The dress was smart enough for the office without being too stuffy or formal. She had also bought a complementary jacket to go with it, and a couple of wrap skirts which could also be worn with the jacket in addition to one of several tops in matching tones.
It had been a long time since she had had any new clothes. Although her work for the charity had not involved working at the front line, she had nevertheless been conscious of the fact that a huge discrepancy existed between her comfortably affluent Western lifestyle and those of the people they were trying to help, and besides...
She could feel the back of her throat starting to tighten with emotion. What had been the point in making herself look attractive, and allowing herself to feel womanly and sensual when she already knew that the man she wanted to be those things for would not and could not ever be hers?
Perhaps it was one of those ironic twists of their twinship that her own unrequited love for Louise's husband Gareth should echo the love Louise had once had for a married man. But then Louise had found love with Gareth and although Katie doubted that she would ever find a man to match him, she knew, too, that for her own inner peace and happiness she had to find a way of moving her life forward and of leaving that love behind.
Katie walked towards the window of her small office and stared out into the busy town square. To one side of it stood the church and running parallel to it but outside her view was a prettily elegant close of Georgian houses where her father's aunt, Ruth, lived with her American husband, Grant, whenever they were over in England.
The other three sides of the square were filled with a jumble of mixed-era buildings, Tudor wattle-and-daub cheek by jowl with Georgian town houses. The square itself had, thanks to the determination of its townspeople, retained much of its original medieval aura even if the stocks were now purely decorative and the original well had been turned into an ornamental fountain.
As young girls she and Louise used to call to see their father on their way home from school, specifically on
'pocket-money' days, hoping that he might be persuaded to add a little extra to the permitted allowance. They had giggled over the boys as they sat side by side beneath the trees on the bench donated by past worthy citizens.
Together they had visited Aunt Ruth and helped her with her innovative displays of church flowers. Together they had attended regulation church services. Together they had cycled through the square to the small antique shop their mother had once half owned with Guy Cooke. Together...
As twins they had always been close, even though temperamentally they were in many ways so very different. Together they had gone to university and it had been there that they had both met Gareth Simmonds who had been one of the course lecturers.
Gareth with whom she had fallen quietly and ideal-istically in love...
Gareth who epitomised everything she had ever wanted in a man... Gareth who was so kind, so calm, so gende and perceptive... Gareth who loved her sister, her twin... Gareth who could never be hers...
The view below her wavered and swam as her eyes filled with tears. Quickly she blinked them away. She had promised herself when Louise and Gareth married that she would find a way to stop loving him, that she would make herself accept him simply as her brother-in-law, as her beloved twin's husband, but every time she saw him the ache of loneliness and pain she felt at seeing the two of them so happy together was still there.
She knew that Louise was hurt by her rejection of her constant invitations to go and stay with them, and she knew, too, that the gulf that was developing between the two of them disturbed her parents, especially her mother, but what could she do? What could she say? There was no way she could admit what the real problem was. And now there was the additional pain of seeing Louise with her new baby—hers and Gareth's child.
A small bitter smile twisted the softness of her mouth.
Was she destined always to be wanted by men who were already committed to someone else; to always be 'second best'? She knew that Gareth would never approach her with a view to an illicit affair the way her ex-boss had done. He loved Louise far too much for that. He was so totally unaware of Katie's own anguished feelings that it seemed to her, in her present state of low self-esteem and self-respect, that it was almost as though she didn't deserve to be loved or treated well, that something about her actively encouraged men to think they could treat her badly.
No man would ever have suggested to her twin that she should have a seedy, hole-in-the-corner sexual relationship with him. No man would dream of suggesting it to any of her female cousins either, she was sure of it. Even Maddy, her brother Max's wife, who had always been regarded as the most downtrodden and to-be-pitied member of the family because of Max's appalling un-caring behaviour towards her, had turned out far stronger and determined than any of them could ever have imagined. Look at the way she had taken control of their marriage and of Max following his return home after hi,!
attack.
At last year's wedding of Bobbie's twin sister, Samantha, all the family had remarked on how much of an adoring husband and father Max had become. He was even taking on his full share of parenting following the birth of their third child, another little boy, so that Maddy could continue with her work for the charity Aunt Ruth had originally set up. Once, the very idea of Max changing nappies and bathing babies would have been a total impossibility, but now...
So what was it about her that denied her the emotional happiness and support all the other Crighton women, both by birth and marriage, seemed to expect and get as their birthright? Sometimes she felt as though there was something about her that meant that she was forever condemned to live in other people's shadows... other people's or her twin's.
She could still remember the plans that L
ouise had made for them as they were growing up, plans which involved the two of them practically running the world, or at least Louise running the world; with Katie's devoted support. And Katie of course had willingly given her that support, that loyalty, that commitment, but now Louise had someone else in her life to give her those things...now Louise had the man that she, Katie, ha^
loved and she, Katie...she, Katie had...nothing...
Outside in the square the church clock chimed the hour. Hastily Katie gathered her scattered thoughts. If she didn't leave now she was going to be late for her appointment with the selling agent.
Reaching for her jacket she headed for the door.
Half an hour later when Katie drove into the visitor's section of the apartment's car park the only other person there was a young girl who was obviously quite patiently waiting for someone. Tall and slim, wearing jeans and a cropped white top she gave Katie a warm smile as she climbed out of her car. Instinctively Katie smiled back.
The girl had long dark hair and widely spaced apart warm grey eyes. For some reason Katie felt that there was something familiar about her although she had no idea what because she was certain she had never seen her before.
'Hi, I'm just waiting for my father,' the girl told Katie.
'I can see why he's decided to buy one of the apartments, Mum will love the location. I don't know where Dad is,' she added, glancing at her watch. 'He said to meet him at four-thirty. Has he telephoned you to say he's going to be late for his viewing appointment?'
As she listened to her Katie realised that the girl must have mistaken her for the viewing agent, but before she could correct her mistake the girl continued, 'I expect Dad's already told you that he works for Aarlston-Becker. He's head of their research department,' she confided with touching daughterly pride. 'I'm at a sixth form college in Manchester and we've got family in Haslewich so...
'Oh, here he is now,' she exclaimed as a large Mercedes swept round the curve of the gravel drive.
Behind it was the much smaller car driven by the estate agent which Katie recognised from her previous meeting with him, but she wasn't paying either the agent or his car any attention, instead she was concentrating on the Mercedes—and its driver. Now she knew why the dark hair and grey eyes the young girl had seemed so familiar. The man now stepping out of his stationary car was none other than the man who had virtually tried to run her down on her first day at work.
It was plain from his expression that he had recognised her, too, but before Katie could challenge him over his behaviour the estate agent was hurrying to join them, announcing, 'I do hope that neither of you mind but j since you both want to view the properties at virtually the same time I thought we could combine the appointments.'
'You're buying one of the apartments?'
The words came out before Katie could silence them and she knew that her expression and tone of voice betrayed exactly what her feelings were.
The cold look she was thrown in disdainful response informed her that her dismay was more than matched by his reaction to the thought of having her as a neighbour, but since his daughter was flinging herself into his arms and hugging him lovingly and claiming his attention, Katie was relieved to recognise that he wasn't going to be able to respond verbally to her impetuous and betraying comment.
'Very well, if you'd like to come this way,' the estate agent suggested.
'You are interested in and are planning to purchase flat nine, Miss Crighton,' he checked as he activated the main alarm system and lock to the entrance lobby to the apartments and waited to usher them inside before continuing, 'And you are purchasing flat number ten, Mr Cooke, is that correct?'
Cooke...this man who looked nowhere near old enough to be the father of a teenage daughter was a Cooke, Katie reflected. Curiously she flicked a discreet look in his direction and then wished she hadn't as she realised that he'd caught her studying him.
She looked away as quickly as she could, but not before she had recognised that he did indeed bear the very distinctive dark and sensual Cooke good looks—the rak-ish and very disturbing aura of maleness and danger they all seemed to have inherited in some measure or other from their long-ago gypsy ancestor.
'In fact,' the agent continued, as he led the way to the discreetly concealed lifts that serviced the house's upper floors, 'seeing as you are going to be close neighbours—
yours are the only two apartments on the top floor—
perhaps I should introduce you to one another.'
Turning to Katie and before either of them could stop him he announced, 'Miss Katie Crighton... Mr Seb Cooke...'
She was a Crighton, so where exactly did she lit into the extensive family tree? Seb wondered curiously as he gave Katie a narrow-eyed contemplative look. He could see at close quarters she was far prettier than he had realised that day in the street.
Her eyes were veiled now as they mirrored her body language's mute dislike of both the situation and him.
Her hair, smoothly brushed instead of tousled by the breeze, hung in a thick soft wave down past her shoulders. The black dress she was wearing hinted at rather than revealed the femininity of her body.
It might not be revealing the lushly full curves of her breasts but he had a vivid memory of just how she and they had looked with the wind pressing the fabric of the top she had been wearing against their softness. In fact, unless his memory was playing tricks on him, she possessed a surprisingly voluptuous body for someone so slim.
Without realising how stem or disapproving it made him look Seb frowned. What on earth was he doing even registering the voluptuousness of an unknown young woman's body, never mind remembering it? He may not have lived totally like a monk in the years since his divorce but the demands of his work coupled with his awareness of just what an appalling husband and father he had been ensured that he kept whatever relationships he had had to discreet liaisons with women who shared his beliefs that he was simply not good marriage material.
As she saw him frown, Katie immediately felt a return of her earlier dislike of him. Heightened by her lack of self-esteem, this fuelled her inner conviction that such a sensual, rawly male man, must surely find her lacking in the kind of feminine attributes that would appeal to him. Not that she would want to appeal to him. Not under any circumstances.
One look at him at close quarters had confirmed that he was most definitely not her type. Too aggressive, too arrogant and far, far too sexy. Oh yes, far, far too sexy, because, hidden away among all the other emotional burdens she was compelling herself to carry, Katie had what she considered to be a most uncool and unappealing secret and that was...
'If you're a Crighton, can I ask... Are you one of the twin Crightons?'
As Charlotte's semi-shy but wholly warm voice broke into her thoughts, Katie focused bemusedly on her.
Charlotte too, like her father, had heard all about the Crightons from Guy and Chrissie, but unlike her'father she felt no self-consciousness about wanting to*satisfy her curiosity about just where Katie fitted into the family jigsaw. For Charlotte, the most fascinating and interesting part of the Crighton family saga was the fact that they so regularly produced sets of twins.
'Charlotte...' Seb began warningly, but Katie shook her head. Unlike her father Charlotte was someone she had immediately felt at home with. She knew instinctively that the younger girl's question was simply a natural expression of her justifiable curiosity and so it was easy for her to smile and nod her head, explaining easily,
'Well, yes, as a matter of fact I am.'
'Does your twin live in Haslewich too? Are you and she going to share the apartment?' Charlotte pressed her.
Katie shook her head. 'No.' A small shadow crossed her face dulling her expression, a fact which Seb noticed but which Charlotte, too engrossed in waiting for her to answer and too youthfully immature to be aware of, did not.
'No, Louise my twin is married and is presently living in Brussels with... Gareth, her husband...'
> Now why had she hesitated and then stumbled so awkwardly over saying her brother-in-law's name? Seb wondered thoughtfully as he caught the note of desola-tion in Katie's voice. Had the two women fallen out perhaps...had a rift developed between them due to the fact that their closeness had been breeched because one of them had married?
Frowning, he stood back to allow Katie and Charlotte to step into the lift ahead of him. Why on earth was he wasting time wondering about a young woman whose acquaintance he had neither the time nor the desire to pursue? Without realising what he was doing Seb let his gaze drift down to Katie's mouth. It was soft and full and oh, so infinitely kissable. He could just imagine how it would feel under his...how she would feel...how she would look, her eyes blind with a vulnerable haunted look of longing and desire that would make him want...
'Here we are... This lift is, of course, exclusively for your use and both of you will have your own passkey.'
With a start Seb dragged his thoughts oack to reality.
As Katie preceded Seb into the private hallway into which both their apartments opened she was aware of feeling distinctly wobbly. What on earth was happening to her? Why had she experienced that extraordinary sensation just now, as though...as though...
Instinctively she lifted her fingers to her lips. The only man she had ever fantasised about having kissed her, the only man she wanted to have kiss her with the kind of intimacy and passion she had just been imagining was Gareth. Gareth and not...as her thoughts skittered to a frantic halt, refusing to allow her to question just why she had experienced that extraordinary sensation of having her mouth so expertly and intimately kissed, and by a man she neither knew nor even wanted to know, she told herself that Gareth was just about as far removed from Seb Cooke as it was possible for two men to be.
Gareth was gentle, kind, reassuringly safe in his manner, while Seb Cooke was aggressive and possessed the kind of sexual aura that... Katie shuddered. What on earth would she want with such a raw, dangerous outright hunk of male sexuality...?
