Loving

by Penny Jordan

  'Who's hungry?' asked Jay, lightening the emotional mood. 'I've booked us into a local restaurant for lunch,' he told Claire. 'I felt we should do something to celebrate, but I also thought you might not like the idea of the hotel staff knowing that we'd just got married.'

  His sensitivity, so unexpected in so tough a man, made her eyes sting with emotional tears. It seemed unbelievable that a man who had so many demands on his time already should make the effort to arrange a celebratory luncheon for what, after all, to him was merely a business arrangement.

  The restaurant was in a small village several miles outside Bath. The chef had trained with the

  Roux brothers, Jay informed Claire as they drew up outside.

  The restaurant had once been a farmhouse, and a huge log fire burned in the enormous hearth, throwing out a welcome heat. The furniture was simple and cottagey, the beamed walls colourwashed a soft cream, the old rose carpet on the floor enhancing the intimate atmosphere of the place.

  They were shown to a table slightly secluded from the others, a deferential waiter ceremoniously unfolding the crisply starched pink napkins and placing them on two ^rey velvet laps, much to the awed delight of the girls.

  *rve already ordered our meal,' Jay explained. 'So if there's anything you don't like ...' He broke off as another waiter advanced with an ice bucket and two glasses.

  'Champagne,' he told Claire quietly. 'I felt it was appropriate.'

  Champagne! It was the last thing she had expected, and she sipped the golden wine nervously, gasping as the ice-cool liquid bubbled down her throat.

  'Like itr

  'It's lovely! I've never had any before.' She flushed, wondering what on earth Jay must think of a woman of her age who had never tasted champagne, but he looked more sombre than amused.

  'You can drink it with your first course,' he told her, '111 order wine to have with the main meal.*

  'Mumutny, what's that you're drinking?' Lucy demanded, and when Claire told her, she saia eagerly, 'May I have some?'

  She was just about to refuse, when Jay sunmioned

  a waiter and said something to him. Within seconds he returned and put down two glasses of fresh orange juice, to which he added a very small amount of champagne before handing them to the girls.

  Watching Lucy's beatific expression as she sipped her drink, Claire could only marvel at how much Jay had enriched their lives already.

  'You're spoiling them. You're spoiling all of us,' she remonstrated.

  *A little bit of spoiling once in a while never did anyone any harm.'

  It was mid-afternoon before they left the restaurant. Claire had eaten caviare, and truffles, and vegetables so perfectly fresh that the flavour had been indescribable. It was a meal she would never forget, even if it had not marked their wedding ceremony, and she shuddered to think how much it had all cost.

  Teel like a quick trip round the factory before we go back to the hotel, or would you prefer to go straight back?'

  *rd like to see round the factory,' Claire told him eagerly. The more she saw of Jay's work, the more eager she was to see how it was produced.

  Jay's factory was situated in a purpose-built modem building on the edge of an industrial estate. His small work-force treated Claire deferentially but with reserve until they realised that she was genuinely interested in their work, and then it was as though the floodgates had opened.

  These were craftsmen, Claire realised, listening to them—men who took a pride in what they were doing, and who believed that what they were creating today would be the heirlooms of tomorrow.

  'You haven't forgotten that you're taking us to the zoo tomorrow, Mummy, have you?' demanded Lucy sleepily later on that evening after she and Heather had been put to bed.

  They had all dined together in the suite, and then they had watched television together.

  At first Claire had felt uncomfortably aware of her changed status, but Jay's manner towards her was so calm and matter-of-fact that her tension had gradually gone. Now she felt pleasantly tired.

  *I don't know about you, but I feel that an early night is in order,' he remarked easily when she went back into the sitting-room.

  'I agree, especially bearing in mind tomorrow's trip to the zoo!'

  Jay had stood up as she walked into the room, but he made no move towards her as she walked across to her own bedroom.

  'I'll say goodnight, then,' she said gravely, pausing outside it.

  'Yes. Sleep well.'

  So now she was married, Claire thought flatly as she closed her bedroom door behind her. What was Jay thinking right now? Was he comparing tonight to his first wedding night—comparing her to Susie?

  Stop it, she chided herself. Jay married you because he doesn't want another relationship like the one he had with Susie.

  They had a fortnight of relatively uninterrupted peace, with Jay commuting daily to the factory, and then he came home one night and announced that he had to go back to the States.

  'Apparently there are a couple of points in the contract they want to discuss. I shouldn't be gone

  for too long. I might even pick up some additional business! Apparently my client's sister wants to talk to me about remodelling her indoor swinmfiing pool and its surroundings, using our stuff. If all goes well I ought to be back by the end of the week.'

  They all went with him to the airport to see him off, and then Claire got a taxi back to Bath. With nearly a whole day to spare, she was determined to make a start on her plans for the house.

  The blue and terracotta colour scheme at the hotel had fired her imagination, and already she had a few tentative ideas of what she wanted to do, but first she needed to find someone to help her, and she remembered seeing a small shop in Bath which had advertised an interior design service.

  She found it easily enough and paused outside to admire the window. A bolt of material was draped carelessly over a single chair; an arrangement of toning dried flowers displayed next to it on a pastel-toned kilim rug.

  Feeling slightly apprehensive, Claire went inside, warning Lucy and Heather not to touch anything.

  A smiling blonde woman came to serve her. Slightly plump, and in her mid-thirties, she looked as elegant as her window.

  It didn't take Claire long to outline her ideas, and within minutes of being shown wallpaper pattern books and swatches of fabrics, she knew that she had found someone on her own wavelength.

  'What I'd really like is for you to come out to the house,' she confided. *I don't want to employ an interior designer as such, because I want the house to reflect our own taste. I want it to be a home, not a show place, but I need advice on where I can find

  the right kind of decorators—you know the sort of thing.'

  *Yes, I do, and most of my clients feel the same way that you do. There is a move away from the very traditional interior design service now, to one where we work alongside the client.' She picked up a diary. *I could come out on Thursday morning if that's any good.'

  That's fine.' Claire gave her directions, and left the shop feeling buoyed up with achievement.

  It had occurred to her that since Jay's craftsmen could make panelling and bookcases, they must also be able to craft kitchen units for her, and on impulse, instead of going straight home, she asked her taxi driver to call at the factory on the way.

  The foreman remembered her and made her welcome. When Claire explained what she wanted, he readily agreed that it was something they could do.

  *Any work in hand would have to take precedence, of course,' Claire acknowledged, 'but what I had in mind was something in antique pine?'

  *You're in luck there. Jay recently bought up some old pine doors from a demolition site. Ill have to check with him that he doesn't have something in mind for them, of course.'

  Hastily concurring with this, Claire left it that once Jay had returned, and if he was in agreement, someone could come out to the house to measure up for her kitchen.

  She had already decided tha
t in the girls' room she would have fitted walls and cupboards built which could then be painted and decorated with stencils, and that in the guest rooms, the same simple type of built-in furniture could be marbled.

  dragged, or sponged in a variety of paint finishes to create a very luxurious effect.

  The displays in some of the shop windows reminded her that Christmas wasn't very far away. She already had a fair idea of what both girls wanted, and she and Jay had already talked over the idea of riding lessons and then possibly a pony to share if their enthusiasm lasted.

  This would be the first Christmas that she had not had to scrimp to buy Lucy even the simplest present. She glanced down at her daughter's burnished head. Already she could see the difference in Lucy; she was a little girl who needed a masculine influence in her life, and she adored Jay. Heather, too, had blossomed, and now she chattered as happily as Lucy, as both of them drew her attention to a shop window filled with a cornucopia of childish delights.

  The bright sunny day had given way to a frosty evening when thev eventually got back to the house. After supper, when Claire was tidying up, the phone rang.

  When she picked it up and heard Jay's voice, she was almost too stunned to speak. They chatted for several minutes, mostly about the children, and even though she had not been expecting the call, when he eventually rang off she felt curiously bereft.

  What would he be doing tonight? Would he be alone in his hotel room, or, far more likely, would he be out somewhere being wined and dined? And then afterwards, would he .. .?

  Angry with herself, she pushed the thought away. She had no right to question the very personal side of Jay's life. If he chose to go to beef with someone

  that was no concern of hers. So why was there this unpleasant little ache inside her? Shaking her head, she switched off the Hghts and made her way slowly upstairs. The house felt empty without him. Already she missed him; she missed his company at supper, missed hearing about his days, missed their chats by the fire after dinner.

  He came back at the end of the week, and the whole house seemed to come alive. Both little girls flung themselves at him the moment he opened the door, and Claire saw in the look he gave her over their heads that he was pleased with the change in Heather.

  After dinner he told her about his trip. She learned that in addition to the contract which was now due to be signed after the New Year, he had also received commissions from several of his client's friends and from his sister.

  When Claire enthused he frowned.

  'Yes, it's good for business, but it does mean I'm going to be away quite a lot, although I hope only for the next few weeks.'

  *Well, the girls will be pleased,' she remarked drily, 'especially if you keep spoiling them with presents like those you brought back this time.'

  The huge patchwork dolls Jay had brought back with him from Dallas were so exquisitely detailed that Claire felt they were more for just looking at than playing with, and she knew, just from the workmanship, that they must have been horren-dously expensive.

  'Guilty conscience presents,' he explained, frowning suddenly as he added, 'which reminds me.' He got up. 'I won't be a minute. Wait here.'

  He was back almost immediately carrying a large

  manilla envelope which he gave to her.

  *Your wedding present,' he told her quietly.

  Claire opened it and took out the contents, smoothing them with suddenly tense fingers. She read through the papers once again and then again just to make sure she wasn't making any mistakes.

  'You're paying for the work to be done on the cottage! But it will cost thousands! Jay, you mustn't feel you need to do that...'

  *I wanted to do it. Let's face it, Claire, I could have offered to pay for the damage in the first place, then you wouldn't have needed to marry me.' He held up his hand when she would have interrupted. 'No, I'm not implying that you married me purely for material reasons—I know how much you love Heather—but you have to admit that it was an excellent lever, and I used it deliberately. In fact, that storm couldn't have come at a better time as far as I was concerned. If you hadn't had to move in here, we would have had to have a long courtship, with all its attendant problems, and for selfish reasons I wanted our marriage accomplished fast. I've already made the mistake of trapping one woman into marriage; I wanted to give you an escape route if you ever felt you needed it. I was going to suggest that when the work is complete you let the cottage—everyone likes to have their own financial independence; it won't bring in much, but at least it will be yours.'

  His sensitivity made her want to weep. How long had it been since a man, any man, haa shown her such consideration, such care?

  Almost without thinking she leaned forward, touching the side of his face with her fingers. 'Oh, Jay, I just don't know what to say!'

  He turned his head, his fingers clasping her wrist, and she gasped as she felt the warm pressure of his mouth against the palm of her hand.

  The moment she tensed he released her.

  'Sorry.' His voice sounded gruff. *rd forgotten.'

  'It ... it doesn't matter. Fll go and make some coffee.' Claire stood up shakily and hurried into the kitchen. How on earth could she have explained to him that her tension had come not from the warm contact of his mouth against her palm, but from her own totally unexpected reaction to it? She had liked it; she had enjoyed the totally pleasurable sensation that had shot through her body.

  He was at home for five days, just enough time to go shopping with the girls to buy advent calendars, and to keep them occupied while Claire sneaked their carefully chosen presents into the house. And then he was gone. Back to Dallas to discuss the final details of the contract.

  The American client was a builder, specialising in prestigious new houses, for which he wanted only the finest craftsmanship. Of a neo-Georgian design, their proportions lent themselves well to the reproduction plasterwork Jay's company produced, but the American lawyers were finicking over every detail, and so Jay and his solicitor had to fly out once again.

  It worried Claire how much she missed him. She oughtn't to have done; after all, she had never wanted a husband—but Jay wasn't just a husband, he was a person who made her laugh, who treated her as an equal, who filled out and warmed her life in a way she could never have believed possible.

  She went with him to the airport, where he was meeting his sohcitor, and was surprised by the sudden surge of desolation that struck her as he walked away. She wanted to cling on to him, to... Abruptly her body tensed as she watched his retreating back. Confusion and panic replaced desolation. What was happening to her? She mustn't become emotionally dependent on Jay as well as financially dependent on him.

  The days flew by, excitement mounting as the girls opened door after door on their advent calendars. They were both in the school play— nearly everyone in the school was involved in it in one way or another. Claire went to see them, and took Mrs Vickers with her because Jay was still away.

  The last few days before Christmas trickled away far too fast. Jay rang three days before Christmas Eve to warn her that he could only get home at the last minute. Claire, who had put off buying and dressing a tree in the hope that he would be home in time, took the girls to the local garden centre and they chose one together, but it wasn't the same as it would have been if Jay had been with her.

  After Christmas, work would start on the house, but until then she had warmed up the sitting-room with deep pink and blue satinised-cotton-covered cushions and a large, toning rug.

  But without Jay in it the house lacked something Claire recognised; she missed his vibrantly masculine presence. A trickle of awareness ran down her spine, a sense of danger and unease. She didnH want to miss Jay, to be so conscious of his absences. She dismissed her thoughts as foolish, but something

  lingered, some faint frisson of knowledge that she determinedly forced into the back of her mind to think about later—much, much later.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

&n
bsp; The night before Christmas Eve, they decorated the tree. Claire sat looking at it after the girls had gone to bed, watching the soft dazzle of the tiny pinpoints of light. Everything was ready: the presents were wrapped, including the appallingly expensive desk filing system she had bought for Jay, the turkey was keeping cold in the garage, all the shopping was done, and for once even the weather was in tune with the season. It had been cold all day, and now the night sky had a dull glow that presaged snow.

  Everything was ready, but Jay was not here to share it with them. She told herself that she was disappointed for the girls, that it was because of them that that small ball of pain lodged deep inside her wouldn't go away.

  She stretched tiredly and got up to tidy away the debris from the tree decorations. Perhaps if she made some mince pies that might help relax her.

  She went into the kitchen and was soon busily engaged in the ritual of making pastry. Through the window she saw the first flakes of snow fall, and was unable to resist the childish impulse to watch. Thick, fat snowflakes fell from a midnight blue sky, whirling and dancing in a pattern that mesmerised her. A fine white blanket covered the ground before she managed to drag herself away.

  Snow for Christmas. She finished making her

  mince pies and put them in the oven.

  It was still snowing half an hour later when the pies were cooling on a rack and she had finished cleaning the kitchen. It was too early to go to bed, but she felt too keyed up to sit down and watch television or read a book.

  She was just about to make herself a cup of hot chocolate when the back door suddenly opened.

  *Jay!' She said his name unsteadily, unable to believe it was him. The snow must have muted the sound of his car. Snowflakes clung to his hair and jacket.

  Somehow, without knowing how it had hapy-pened, she had crossed the kitchen floor, her face alight with pleasure.