'Then you do believe that I wasn't having an affair with Nick?'
'Oh yes, I believe you. I have to, don't I? I was given unassailable proof.'
She felt her cheeks begin to burn and could say nothing.
Blake leaned back in his chair and his eyes moved slowly over her crimson cheeks down her neck to the hint of cleavage showing beneath the demure white collar. 'But I must say you surprised me,' he went on. 'I wouldn't have believed the cool, efficient Maggie could have responded like that. For a shy, unawakened virgin you were terrific.' His voice was loaded with irony.
'That was—it didn't mean that I was in love with you,' she whispered hoarsely, glancing round the room to see if anyone could overhear this extraordinary conversation, 'Any more than it meant you were in love with me,' she added, because somehow a tiny bit of pride must be salvaged out of this wretched situation. She wondered fleetingly how he would react if she said, 'It meant that I was crazy for you, in every possible way. Not only to sleep with you, but to live with you, work for you, make you happy, share things. It meant that you are the centre of my life and that without you my life would be a barren desert.'
Blake looked faintly amused. 'What would you call it, then? Just good old-fashioned lust?'
'Something like that,' Maggie muttered, turning her head away. She was painfully aware of his scrutiny and couldn't bear to see the look of amusement in his eyes. Making love to her last night had meant nothing to him—he had been roused by anger and frustration and probably he had closed his eyes and pretended it was Fiona there in the bed with him. That was the worst of all. Maggie bit her lip hard, groping desperately for some way to change the subject.
'Let's get this straight,' she said slowly. 'You want me to stay in Hong Kong, acting as your wife?'
He nodded. 'Right first time.'
'Just for the look of it?'
'Exactly—for the look of it. There's no better way to kill gossip than to demonstrate that it's untrue and unfounded. And I intend that this particular bit of gossip shall be well and truly killed forthwith.'
There was a silence. He was looking across the table at her with an expression she didn't recognise. Almost she could imagine that she saw pleading in his face.
But of course—the work! The opportunity to carry off this huge complex assignment in triumph meant everything to him. Everything, that was, except having Fiona out here with him. He couldn't have Fiona while he was still married to her, Maggie, so he intended to make the best of a bad job.
She crumbled her roll between her fingers nervously. 'So,' she said, 'I'm to stay with you and act the loving wife to boost your reputation with the company and to prevent any sinister stories reaching J.M. back in London?'
'Correct!' he said crisply. 'Would it be so difficult?' He gave her a narrow, meaningful look that sent shivers coursing up and down her spine.
'If you're suggesting what I think you are, it would be impossible,' said Maggie, lifting her chin a little. 'Last night must be considered a one-off, as far as I'm concerned.'
Blake raised dark brows sceptically. He must think, after the way she had behaved last night, that she wouldn't be able to refuse him anything. Well, she would show him that he was wrong. 'Really?' he said.
'Yes, really,' snapped Maggie.
He shrugged. 'Seems a pity,' he said indifferently, 'but if that's the way you want it—'
'That is the way I want it,' Maggie said coldly.
'As you wish, then.' He sounded as if he didn't care either way, and probably he didn't. He would take her if she was willing, but he wasn't going to shed tears over it if she wasn't. How little she had really known about him, she thought suddenly. And how differently a man could behave in his private life from the way he was at work!
She kept her voice steady as she asked, 'And how long will this charade go on?'
He shrugged. 'As long as it takes.'
She wanted to scream at him, As long as what takes? Did he mean the work here, or did he mean as long as it took to arrange a divorce in the usual way, as an annulment was apparently out of the question?
She said, 'I think a divorce takes two years, if both parties are agreeable, isn't that right?'
'I believe so.'
She swallowed hard. She couldn't help it—she had to ask. 'And will Fiona wait that long for you?'
'We won't discuss Fiona,' he said crushingly. And that was that.
There was a strained silence between them while the noisy, morning clatter and chatter in the snack-bar rose and fell. At last Maggie said quietly, 'Very well, Blake, I agree, for the sake of the Company and the work out here. Although I don't know what on earth I'm going to do to fill my time.'
He was on his feet immediately. That, at least, was like the old Blake. Once he had gained his point he couldn't wait to put things in motion.
'Oh, you'll find something—gang up with some of the other wives,' he said carelessly. 'Now, I'll get along to the office. I'll meet you back here in our suite at around five and we'll make arrangements about money and so on. You'll have your own bank account, of course.'
He glanced around. Two of Morden's girl secretaries were sitting a few tables away. 'Be seeing you, sweetheart,' he said quite loudly. 'Be good.' He leaned down and kissed Maggie full on her lips. When he lifted his head he smiled into her eyes, lingering as if he couldn't bear to drag himself away from her. Then he turned and walked out of the room, leaving her speechless at the speed with which everything had happened and weak at the knees as her lips tingled from his kiss. There had been no makebelieve about that kiss, and it left her wondering how she was going to stop herself going up in flames again. Blake would believe she was available for his casual lovemaking, and despise her for it while accepting what she was prepared to offer. She shivered, feeling cheap and humiliated. Perhaps she should have insisted on going back home and letting the staff of Mordens make what they liked of it. But she had promised—
She drank another cup of coffee and then went up in the lift to the suite she was sharing with Blake. One largish living room with a view over the harbour, one bedroom, a shower-room and a tiny sliver of kitchen which, under different circumstances, would have delighted Maggie, with its miniature sink, its electric kettle and small microwave oven. If things had been right between them she could easily have cooked a passable meal here and they could have eaten cosily together if they hadn't wanted to go out. She was sure that Blake would come in from work every evening tired and hungry. The way he pushed himself was alarming. When the job demanded it he thought nothing of working all night and into the following day. If she had been a real wife, she thought forlornly, she could have looked after him. Unobtrusively, of course, because Blake hated to be fussed over. Tactfully, the way she had done back in England. Just keeping an eye on him and making sure he got enough food and enough sleep to safeguard his health.
Sleep. The word brought her up short. She stared at the big double bed and her insides began to churn as she remembered how it had been last night, with Blake's arms holding her, remembered how he had looked in sleep when she had left him this morning, his dark hair tousled against the whiteness of the pillow. The chambermaid must have been up here already, for the bed was tidied now to a smooth, perfect plumpness. It was a wide bed, a honeymoon bed. But this wasn't a honeymoon, and Blake was going to have to sleep somewhere else.
There was a long sofa in the living room. One of them could sleep on that; they'd have to work it out, she thought, trying to be cool and rational about it. She supposed it wouldn't do for Blake to book another room for himself. All the staff of Mordens were being accommodated in this hotel and sooner or later the word would get around that the gossip had been right after all: Blake Morden's new marriage was already on the rocks.
Maggie turned away. She couldn't bear to stand here any longer looking at that bed. She went back into the living room and stood gazing down at the harbour far below with its busy craft plying ceaselessly to and fro. She leaned her forehe
ad against the glass, already warm with the morning sunshine, and tried to adjust to the new situation she found herself in. Maggie was a worker, always had been, and the thought of staying here in this luxury palace of a hotel with nothing definite to fill her time appalled her.
At home, on the rare occasions when she didn't go in to work, she would have rung up one of her married friends, arranged a game of tennis or a trip to the swimming baths, or just to meet for a coffee. But here there were no friends to turn to. Then she remembered Ling San. Ling San was a darling, full of life and enthusiasm, and that was just what she needed. Maggie found her notebook and rang Ling San's number.
Ling San answered immediately. 'Maggie—how lucky, you've just caught me. I was on my way out.' The light voice with its charming American intonation was enough to raise Maggie's spirits several notches. 'I have such news for you! Dietrich has found me a little shop and I am just going there to start arranging it for my beauty bazaar. It is in the arcade of your hotel. Will you come and see it with me?'
Maggie had wandered along the hotel shopping arcade several times, during the week she had been on her own, and found it fascinating, with its windows stacked with luxury goods. There were tailors' premises, where a suit could be made to measure in less than forty-eight hours; shops showing jade and ivory carvings; others with fabulous carpets from all over the world. China—jewellery—electronic goods—everything.
Ling San's proposed shop was long and narrow, tucked away between mink coats on one side and fashion shoes on the other.
'Come in and we will explore.' Ling San fitted a key in the lock. 'Oh look, it is perfect for me. See, there is even a shampoo bay, with bowls and water and everything. Oh, I shall do so well here!' She danced around, a neat little figure with her smooth raven-dark hair a shining cap and her pale coffee cheeks flushed with excitement, poking into corners, inspecting everything, deciding where to place her own tables and stands. She was wearing a pure silk shift in a subtle shade of dusty pink, simply and perfectly cut to show off her delicate curves. She looked, Maggie thought, like a tiny ballerina. When she had vetted every corner of the shop she pronounced it perfect for her needs. Later, over a coffee, she said to Maggie, 'I shall start to fit it up straight away. It will be fun.' She sighed. 'What a pity you are so busy building things, Maggie, or I should ask you to help me.'
'But I'm not,' said Maggie. 'Blake has come back from the U.K. with the news that the Chairman, his father, doesn't think it would be quite "on" for his son's wife to work for the Corporation.' That was twisting the truth a little, but the fact remained the same. 'So I'm at a loose end just now and not enjoying it very much. I like to be busy. If there's anything I can do, I'd love to help.'
Ling San clapped her hands delightedly. 'Oh, that is wonderful! We shall work so well together, I know it. And the shop will be such a success. Of course there are many other beauty parlours in Hong Kong, some even in this hotel, but ours will be quite different. Do you know what I mean to call it? Don't laugh. I shall call it Nu Yu.' She spelled it out. 'What do you think of that? It sounds a little Chinese, but do you see the joke?'
Maggie creased her forehead. 'Nu Yu?' Then she grinned. 'Yes, of course—New You. That's super, Ling San. You'll make a new image for women who are tired of their old one.'
'Yes, that is right. What do you think?' Ling San put her little dark head on one side.
'I think it's a brainwave and I can't wait to get started. Can we do anything straight away? Today?' Maggie could almost feel her old drive and vitality flowing back into her at the prospect of being involved in an interesting plan. She hadn't quite realised until this moment how the last few weeks had drained her of the liveliness that she had always taken for granted. Blake's decision that she should not be working with him here had seemed the last straw. But now she felt that if she were involved with Ling San in this new venture it would make life at the very least bearable.
'Sure,' Ling San sparkled. 'We will go along and see Dietrich at his bank and tell him that the shop is splendid and that he must rent it for me and then we can begin to plan. Come along, Maggie.' Ling San jumped up and held out her hand, her dark eyes alight, and Maggie, infected by the Chinese girl's gaiety, followed her out of the coffee-shop, feeling that once again life might have some purpose. At least, if she were involved in this project with Ling San she wouldn't be dependent upon Blake's every mood.
Almost, she felt, she might one day be free of this consuming love that had brought her so much unhappiness.
The day, which had begun so disastrously, got better as it went on. Dietrich Hauser was obviously pleased and intrigued with his pretty wife's enthusiastic plans. Urged on by Ling San, he left his impressive office at the bank to finalise the details of the lease. When this was done he took the two girls to lunch at a garden restaurant in the hotel, where they ate Dim Sum. This turned out to be a selection of spicy snacks—a sort of Chinese hors d'oeuvres. Maggie wasn't yet completely at home with chopsticks and her efforts amused the other two vastly. They were laughing at her expense when Nick Grant appeared at the entrance to the restaurant and stood looking around.
He spotted the three of them immediately and came over to their table. 'Well met, you people. Am I allowed to join the party?' He took their consent for granted and sat down beside Maggie. 'How's everyone?'
Ling San immediately embarked on her news. 'Nick, you must know, I am now a professional woman. Is that not so, my darling?' she appealed to Dietrich.
'She's correct,' said the young German with a grin. He scratched his blond head ruefully. 'She has rushed me off my feet, my friend, and is about to ask for a large loan from my bank—I know it.'
Ling San pulled a face at him. 'All business women need loans, is it not so?' she appealed to Nick. 'Maggie has promised to help me with setting up my shop,' she added.
Nick frowned. 'I thought—'
Maggie didn't let him finish. 'Blake has made me redundant,' she grinned. 'He thinks the wife of the Chairman's son shouldn't be seen slaving away on a building site.'
'And you don't mind?' Nick was looking at her intently. He knew how much her work had always meant to her.
'Oh, I think he's probably right,' she said airily. 'And I shall have great fun helping Ling San.'
'Well, if it's what you want,' Nick shrugged, 'that's fine. When do we see the new venture?'
'As soon as it's all furnished and ready to open,' Ling San told him. 'We shall have a grand opening party to celebrate, and you're invited, of course, Nick.'
He accepted eagerly, and Maggie thought that Blake wasn't going to be pleased when he found that she was involved with Nick again, even in a distant way, through mutual friends. Then she thought,. Well, what does it matter? Blake doesn't own me. And her new confidence began to emerge again.
Hours later the two girls were sitting on the floor of the empty shop, surrounded by drawings and plans jotted down on odd scraps of paper. Ling San hugged her knees, her eyes very bright. That's it for today, Maggie.
What do you think of it, so far?'
Maggie hugged her knees. 'I think you're wonderful, Ling San. You know it all!'
The Chinese girl laughed. 'That's not so wonderful. I was trained in New York, where my aunt lives, and I worked at a very famous beautician's there for almost three years. Then Dietrich and I were married and we came back to live in Hong Kong. I was happy to come back because my parents live here. They sent me to New York to be trained, but all the time I dreamed of starting my own business here. So you see, it has been a dream for a long time.'
'And sometimes dreams come true,' sighed Maggie.
'Yes, sometimes, if one dreams long enough,' Ling San agreed. She looked rather hard at Maggie as they scrambled to their feet. 'Your dreams have come true too, Maggie,' she said a little shyly. 'You have married, a wonderful man. I look forward to meeting him.'
'As soon as it can be arranged,' Maggie promised. Blake should be pleased that she had found herself an interesting
occupation. He could get on with his own work and needn't spare her more than a passing thought now and then. That was what he wanted, wasn't it? she thought bitterly, and sadness overtook her again. But she thrust it away quickly and looked at her watch. 'Good heavens, it's half-past five and I arranged to meet Blake at five o'clock. See you tomorrow morning, Ling San.' She hurried away along the arcade and found a lift to whisk her up to the twenty-third floor.
The door was unlocked and Blake was stretched out in a deep armchair, a whisky beside him, a dark look on his face.
'Where the hell have you been?' he greeted her. 'I was on the point of going out to look for you. I thought I said we'd meet at five o'clock.'
'Did you? I don't remember.' Maggie sank into the depths of the sofa, opposite. 'Afraid I didn't notice the time. Will you pour me a drink, please? Bitter lemon.'
He shot her a suspicious glance. 'You're very pleased with yourself, all of a sudden,' he said sourly. 'Where have you been?'
'Oh, round and about,' she said airily, holding out a hand for her drink. 'I'm beginning to get quite fond of Hong Kong. There's so much going on all the time here.'
'What, for instance?' She lifted her eyebrows. 'What do you mean—what?'
'I mean what's been going on today that makes you look so jaunty?' He took a sip of his drink. 'Surely I may be allowed to take an interest in my wife's activities?'
That took Maggie aback, but she said amiably, 'Why, of course, Blake.' She grinned. 'I didn't think you cared.' She was inviting him to share a joke as they had once done—in another life, it seemed.
He didn't smile back. 'I want to make sure you haven't been with Nick Grant. I happen to know he was missing from his office for a considerable time in the middle of the day.'
Maggie sighed. 'Oh, Blake dear, you have got a nasty suspicious mind! What on earth did you imagine Nick and I could be doing in the middle of the day?'
Makeshift Marriage Page 12
