by Helen Brooks
‘It’s all right, it’s all right.’ She whispered the words to herself, walking over to the sink and wetting a piece of kitchen roll with cold water before dabbing her hot cheeks. It wasn’t as though they had ended up in bed or anything. Her heart gave an enormous jerk at the thought.
She had been crazy for a few moments, that was all, but it was the fault of the blistering sexual awareness Clay always evoked in her with so little effort. He was the one man, the only man who turned her emotions upside down and inside out so she didn’t know what she was doing.
Her insides tightened. And now she had to face him again. She swayed backwards and forwards for a moment before she realised what she was doing and stopped abruptly. For goodness’ sake, girl, pull yourself together, she told herself caustically. She was not going to crumple in front of him, not Clay.
She would prepare a tray with the desserts and coffee, and take it upstairs as though nothing had happened down here. Because it hadn’t, not really. The lie didn’t help at all. Okay, so something had happened, but only to her. To a man like Clay a few passionate kisses were nothing.
If he mentioned it, and she prayed he wouldn’t, she’d laugh lightly and make a little offhand comment, blaming her response on the wine. Easy and relaxed and faintly amused, that was the way she’d play it. Then she’d make it plain she had work to do, and exit Clay with the minimum of embarrassment all round.
By the time she had busied herself fixing the tray her cheeks had lost their fiery colour, and as she climbed the stairs to the sitting room it was just in time to hear Clay say, his voice warm, ‘Okay, Margo, I’ll see you tomorrow when I land. And book a table at Syke’s; you deserve a bit of pampering for being such an angel.’
Margo? And dinner at some special place or other? Pampering? Robyn tried, she really tried not to let the rage show as she swept into the room, her voice high as she said gaily, ‘Dessert’s now served, and then I really must get down to some work, Clay. I don’t like to be rude but I’m going to have to throw you out once you’ve eaten.’
‘That was a business associate in the States.’ Clay had turned to face her, his expression unreadable as he took in Robyn’s brittle, fixed smile and the angry colour staining her cheeks bright pink. ‘Margo Bower.’
‘Oh, yes?’ Her tone indicated she couldn’t care less who it was, it was no business of hers. ‘Help yourself to the custard, won’t you?’
‘She also happens to be my father’s youngest sister.’
Robyn had been occupied in whisking the contents of the tray onto the table, and her hands froze for just the merest of moments before she said, ‘Your aunt?’ Was he lying? But then, why would he bother? And he’d come up with something better!
‘My aunt,’ he confirmed evenly. ‘She’s been holding the fort this weekend and something’s blown up today that will need sorting tomorrow morning. As I won’t be back in time we’ve just gone through what needs to be done.’ And then, Clay being Clay, he added, ‘You thought it was a girlfriend of mine, didn’t you?’ still in the low even tone.
Robyn stopped fiddling with the coffee cups and raised her head slowly. Okay, so he wanted to call a spade a spade—fine. This was her chance to make it clear exactly how she felt.
‘I thought it was a possibility,’ she said quietly, ‘and there would be nothing wrong with that, Clay. You are a free agent, after all. And there’s absolutely nothing between us.’
‘I disagree.’ He moved over to the table and she forced herself to stand perfectly still. ‘And while we’re on the subject, if I was involved with someone I wouldn’t have kissed you like that a few minutes ago. That isn’t my style. I believe in fidelity for as long as a relationship lasts.’
She nodded, keeping her back very stiff and her chin high. ‘But as there is nothing between us it’s all relative anyway.’
He stared at her for a moment more and then relaxed, a visible decision. He sat down at the table and reached for his pie, pouring a liberal amount of custard on top of the steaming pastry and then beginning to eat with every appearance of enjoyment. Robyn could do nothing else but follow suit, although every muscle in her body was rigid with tension.
She forced the pie down, almost choking on every mouthful and trying desperately to appear as cool and controlled as Clay was.
‘Coffee?’ Clay had reached for the coffee jug and poured himself a cup, and now his hand hovered over her cup.
‘Thank you.’ She managed a nod and a smile and hoped her face hadn’t cracked like it felt it had.
She was sipping the hot liquid and praying this terrible evening would soon be over when Clay said, his tone conversational and pleasant, ‘We are going to be lovers, Robyn, so you might as well face the fact.’
The coughing and spluttering that followed caused her eyes to stream, courtesy of the coffee going down the wrong way, and when she had mopped herself up and her voice was her own again, she said, ‘You’re mad, insane. I have absolutely no intention of going to bed with you so you might as well face that fact.’
‘You want me just as much as I want you,’ Clay continued imperturbably, apparently not in the least put out by her declaration. ‘And you know it. You dream of me; you burn for me when you are awake and when you are asleep; imagine how it will be between us when we make love. I know this because I feel the same, and I am not a man to live on dreams indefinitely. I want the reality. And what I want, I take.’
What was he saying? She could barely take it in. This wasn’t real, it couldn’t be. She dredged up anger to combat the panic and—humiliatingly—the thrilling excitement his words had caused. ‘You’d like to think that, wouldn’t you?’ she bit out scathingly. ‘But the trouble is, Clay, you’ve been so used to taking what you want when you want it that you can’t understand there might be a woman somewhere who doesn’t want to sleep with you. Money can’t buy everything you know.’
‘Money doesn’t come into it,’ he said calmly. ‘And I am more than willing to admit there must be millions of women who wouldn’t want to share my bed. You are not one of them. And don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying that I think you like the way you feel. You’ve made it very clear you would prefer to have nothing to do with me, but physically you know there is something between us that defies logic.’
‘Don’t tell me what I know!’ She was frightened, but of herself, not of him, of what she might reveal to those piercing silver eyes.
‘You want me, Robyn, and after one night in my arms it will all seem so simple,’ the unrelenting voice continued. ‘Whoever this guy was who caused you to so distrust the male sex, forget him. There will be truth between us, honesty at all times, and that way no one will get hurt. We can enjoy each other without professions of undying love and ridiculous promises neither of us can keep.’ He had settled back in his chair, perfectly relaxed.
Her mouth had fallen slightly open in her amazement and shock, and now she shut it with a little snap. Play it cool, Robyn, she told herself silently, as the desire to fling the contents of her coffee cup straight into his handsome, self-assured face became almost unbearable. ‘I don’t sleep around, Clay,’ she said coldly. ‘I would have hoped you knew that.’
‘Neither do I,’ he countered swiftly. ‘And ditto.’
‘And my heart as well as my body would have to be involved in a sexual relationship,’ she continued steadily.
‘If you don’t mind me saying so, that’s where you went wrong with this guy who broke your heart. You obviously gave him everything and it wasn’t reciprocated. With us we would have loyalty and honesty as the basis of our relationship, and the knowledge that we intend to give each other pleasure and no pain.’
Was he mad or was it her? Because one of them was quite insane! Robyn suddenly had the feeling she was in the middle of a rather bad play. And the final curtain needed to come down now.
‘At the moment you don’t like me because you feel threatened by the physical attraction between us,’ Clay continued smoothly. ‘It m
akes you feel vulnerable, exposed. When that’s dealt with you would find it’d be good between us in all areas, not just in bed. We’d have fun, Robyn. I promise you.’
It was the sensual undertone in the last words that told Robyn she had to end this conversation right now. Or rather her body’s reaction to them as a wave of heat flooded through her.
‘At the risk of sounding like a heroine from a thirties movie, I’m not that kind of girl,’ she said, keeping her voice light and dry with enormous effort. ‘The liking and bones of the relationship would have to come first, not after the bed bit.’
He seemed to consider her words for a moment, his head slightly on one side as he stared at her with clear silver-blue eyes in which she could read nothing. ‘Okay.’ He finished his coffee in one gulp and rose to his feet.
Robyn looked up at him. His voice had been quiet and faintly amused, but she couldn’t see what he was really thinking because the barrier of his amazing crystal eyes was firmly in place. ‘What do you mean, okay?’ she asked suspiciously.
‘We’ll spend time getting to know each other for a while.’
‘I don’t want to get to know you, Clay,’ she said quickly, her heart jerking and then racing like a greyhound.
‘You can’t have it both ways, Robyn,’ he said in a voice that was patiently reasonable. Overly insultingly patiently reasonable. ‘If you weren’t so scared of getting involved in a physical relationship again—’ what did he mean, again? she thought wryly ‘—I would have bedded you long before this. We both know if I start to make love to you, really start to make love to you, you wouldn’t stop me. You wouldn’t be able to stop me.’
The arrogance of it caused her to blink even as her innate honesty forced her to admit—silently—that he was absolutely right. It also pointed out one little fact that made it imperative she never slept with Clay. She loved him. The knowledge had been there all the time since they’d first met again, and it was that which was scaring her half to death. She wasn’t over him; she would never be over Clay Lincoln. She had lied to herself for years. Fought against admitting it even to herself.
‘Perhaps, perhaps not,’ she countered quietly. ‘But I do know if I slept with you as things are now I would hate myself.’
Now it was his turn to blink, and there was a peculiar expression on his face as he said, after a long pause, ‘Then, we will have to be patient until you can tell me you wouldn’t hate yourself because that would be as unacceptable to me as it is to you.’ And he sounded as though he meant it.
‘And what if I can never say it?’ she said in a little rush, her heart pounding. ‘What then?’
‘You will, Robyn.’ It was quiet but carried a wealth of intent. ‘The timing was wrong all those years ago but whatever is between us now was there then, and it hasn’t died. If anything it is stronger.’
How right you are, she thought with a terribly irony. But it’s love on my side and just physical attraction on yours, and that makes you the most dangerous thing in the world. She’d survived one encounter of being rejected by him; when he tired of her this time—and he would tire of her as he’d already made very clear with his clever words about no ridiculous promises and no lasting commitment—she wouldn’t come to the surface again. And she was worth more than that, she told herself bitterly.
But she had whetted his interest the night of Guy’s birthday by her coolness, although it hadn’t been intentional and she certainly hadn’t been playing hard-to-get. He was a tough, cynical, worldly man who was used to women throwing themselves at him, and she had been a little different. That was all it was on his side. Whereas she…
Robyn took a long, deep breath and stood to her feet. If she didn’t go along with this façade of ‘getting to know each other’ he would pursue her relentlessly, he was that type of man. But if, after a few weeks or months he realised she wasn’t what he thought she was, he would lose interest, and probably by then there would be some other woman ready to console him. In fact she could guarantee it. They were probably queueing up already.
‘Okay, we date for a while.’ It took all of her will-power and then some to sound so calm and matter-of-fact. ‘When you happen to be in the country of course,’ she added with a touch of sarcasm, ‘work permitting.’
‘Work will permit exactly what I tell it to.’ He was walking to the staircase as he spoke and it took her by surprise. Was he going? She hadn’t expected him to concur to her demands so easily.
‘I flew over from the States to see you today,’ he continued without turning round, ‘and I shall do it again when necessary.’
‘You said—’ She had followed him and now stopped speaking abruptly when he swung round at the top of the stairs and faced her. Then she forced herself to go on quickly, ‘You said you came back on business.’
‘No, Robyn, you said I had come back on business,’ he said softly. He kissed the top of her nose, a light kiss, even teasing, but it was enough to make her stiffen and tense as the subtle magnetism increased tenfold.
‘I might not have been here,’ she said feverishly, taking an involuntary step backwards away from him. ‘I do go out you know.’
‘Then I would have been disappointed,’ he said coolly. ‘Goodnight, Robyn. I’ll see myself out.’
She was too taken aback and confused to do anything other than watch him descend, and when the sound of the front door shutting a few moments later brought her out of the trance she’d fallen into, her legs gave way and she sank down onto the top step, her head whirling. She felt as though she’d been bulldozed!
How was it that she was doing exactly what she had promised herself she would never do, and getting involved with Clay? she asked herself bewilderly. How had he managed that?
And the answer came back, uncompromising and frightening. Because he was astute enough, intuitive enough, to sense he had her in the palm of his hand. But—and this was the only thing that helped the hot panic that was in danger of taking her over to subside a little—he thought it was mere sexual desire that was attracting her. He didn’t know she loved him.
And whatever it took, whatever it took, he never would know. It would be the final humiliation.
CHAPTER SIX
ROBYN threw herself into work for the rest of the evening and by the time she fell into bed the midnight oil had well and truly burnt out, it being nearly three o’clock. Nevertheless it was a good half an hour before she could persuade her racing mind to let her sleep, and then she was awake again at six with Clay’s name on her lips after a particularly erotic dream that left her aroused and aching. And longing, burning to see him again.
There was no chance of more sleep, and even after a long, cool shower the sexual arousal had her feeling restless and cross with herself. She couldn’t believe that he had swept back into her life after all these years and had just taken over her emotions again. It was—she searched for the words—it was degrading and mortifying and so unfair.
Once dressed, she marched up and down the sitting room for a while and then forced herself to go downstairs and make some coffee which she took up onto the tiny balcony. The morning air was warm when she opened the full-length windows—it was going to be another lovely day—but her agitation had her drinking the coffee in little sharp gulps as she scanned the vista beyond without really seeing it, her mind in turmoil.
It would be emotional suicide to agree to Clay’s proposition, she knew that, so why did a little voice in the back of her mind keep suggesting that maybe, maybe, if she allowed him into her life and her body, he might find he was falling for her too?
Clutching at straws. She nodded at the thought. Cass and Guy had let enough little comments drop during the years for her to know that Clay was a dedicated love-’em-and-leave-’em type.
Perhaps he had been so in love with his wife that no one could take her place? She deliberately considered the thought that had tormented her for years, if she was being truthful. Certainly she had to face the fact that he’d forget her as q
uickly as he could click his fingers once the affair came to an end. And that was all she could hope for with Clay, an affair. He would leave her with no pride, no self-respect; everything she had worked for over the last years would be as ashes. And that mustn’t happen.
She finished the coffee and padded back down to the kitchen whereupon she forced herself to eat a bowl of cereal and two slices of toast. At eight o’clock she was seated at her desk in the office, and when Drew arrived Robyn was bright and breezy and very businesslike.
At half-past nine the telephone rang, and whether it was sixth sense or women’s intuition she didn’t know, but Robyn told Drew to leave it and let the answer machine take the call.
‘Robyn…’ The deep, husky voice brought the blood rushing to her face and made her toes curl under the desk. ‘Just a quick call to say how much I enjoyed the meal last night and the company even more. I’m leaving for the States in a few minutes but I’ll be back at the weekend. Save Saturday for me?’ There was a slight pause. ‘And take care.’
There was a full thirty seconds of silence before Drew said, her tone one of awe, ‘Wow! What a way to start the day!’
Robyn hoped her cheeks weren’t as visibly hot as they felt. She stared at Drew, and then said, ‘That was—’
‘I know who it was.’ Drew sighed enviously. ‘There’s only one man I’ve met recently who has a voice like that. He’s gorgeous, Robyn. Utterly drop-dead gorgeous.’
‘It’s not what you think,’ Robyn said hastily. ‘Really.’
‘No?’ Drew opened her baby-blue eyes wider and gave a Marilyn Monroe pout. ‘Then, make it what I’m thinking, Robyn. This is one hunk you just can’t let escape. They don’t come gift-wrapped like him but once in a lifetime.’
It was a toss up who was surprised more when Robyn burst into tears in the next moment, but the maternal side of Drew came immediately to the fore and Robyn was bustled upstairs for tea and chocolate biscuits—Drew’s answer to all of life’s emergencies. Especially the two-legged kind.
