by Penny Jordan
Coffee. Rosie stared at him. How could he stand there so calmly offering her coffee after what had happened? Anger boiled up inside her, her self-control snapping.
‘How could you do that?’ she demanded shakily. ‘How could you let them think that you and I...that...we are about to get engaged...? Have you any idea what you’ve done?’
Rosie could hear her own voice rising, sharpening with hysteria.
Abruptly she stopped speaking. She must not allow herself to get out of control; her own panic increased her tension, and with it her awareness of her vulnerability.
‘What would you have preferred me to do?’ Jake asked her quietly. ‘Allowed Helen Steadings to continue to think, as she so obviously was doing, that you and I were indulging in a hole-and-corner sexual fling? Is that really how you want to be gossiped about?’
‘Why should you care how people gossip about me?’ Rosie demanded tautly. ‘You’re a man; no one will think the worse of you for having a relationship that’s merely sexual—’
‘I would,’ Jake contradicted her flatly, the vehemence in his voice startling her into looking straight at him. His eyes had lost that silver warmth they had had earlier, she recognised, and were once again the cold metallic grey she remembered. ‘I’m not some sexual stud intent on chalking up a tally of conquests,’ he told her in fierce disgust. ‘My reputation is every bit as important to me as yours is to you, Rosie. I don’t want to be judged as sexually promiscuous any more than you do. Having people talking behind my back speculating about what kind of relationship we have is every bit as repugnant to me as it is to you.’
Rosie shivered as she listened to him. How did he know so much about her, about the way she felt, the way she reacted? How could he know those things when everything she had done last night must surely have given him completely the opposite impression?
‘But to let them think we were virtually engaged...discussing marriage...’
Jake turned away from her, removing the filter from the coffee machine. His voice was slightly muffled as he told her, ‘Engagements can always be broken, you know...relationships allowed to quietly fade...’
Relationships?
‘We don’t have a relationship,’ she protested frantically, and then as Jake turned round and looked at her she felt herself flushing to the roots of her hair.
There was no need for him to point out that last night she had virtually offered herself to him, inviting an intimacy she had never come anywhere near wanting to share with anyone else.
‘We can’t do this,’ she told him in panic. ‘I can’t do it...’
She turned away from him, feeling her body start to shake with tension.
Logic told her that what she really ought to do now was to talk the whole thing out with him so that they could find some sensible and workable solution to the situation, but emotionally she knew that she just wasn’t strong enough to do so.
She wanted to go home, to be on her own, to shut herself away from everyone and everything to give herself time to build up her defences, and to feel whole and safe again.
Just being here with Jake made it impossible for her to do any of those things. He undermined and unnerved her even without trying. She couldn’t even look at him without remembering last night, without remembering the scent and taste of his skin, the feel of his hands on her body.
‘I want to go home.’
She sounded more like a petulant, frightened child than a mature adult, she recognised bitterly as her taut demand filled the tense silence.
‘If I could use your phone, I’ll ring for a taxi.’
There, that sounded better, more positive, more adult. More the persona she was used to projecting on the outside world. The inner person, the vulnerable, frightened person she had betrayed so stupidly to Jake last night, was one she always kept hidden, known only to herself, but now Jake knew about that person as well. She wanted to take back that knowledge, to wipe his memory free of it.
‘There’s no need for that. I’ll drive you—’
‘No.’
Her denial was sharp and instant, and laced with panic, she recognised.
‘I...I have to call and pick up my car.’
‘There’s no need. I did that this morning.’
Rosie stared at him. ‘You... But... Did anyone see you?’ she asked him quickly.
‘It’s too late to worry about that now, Rosie,’ he reminded her wryly. ‘The horse has already bolted.’
CHAPTER SEVEN
EXPERIENCE...LIFE HAD taught Rosie that the best way, the only way for her to deal with emotions and situations she couldn’t control was simply to blot them out altogether, not so much to pretend that they hadn’t happened, but rather to refuse to allow herself to admit that they had; and this was precisely what she was doing now, or at least what she was trying to do, she admitted as her concentration wavered from the pile of work on her desk and her thoughts slid helplessly towards Jake.
It was almost twenty-four hours since she had last seen him now. Twenty-four hours since he had driven her home and seen her courteously and safely inside her front door. Twenty-four hours...more now, since he had publicly linked them together as a couple.
Every time her telephone rang she tensed, half afraid to answer it, but on each occasion the caller had been ringing with a legitimate business enquiry.
She had barely slept the previous night, too afraid to close her eyes in case she started thinking about Jake...remembering... But what was there to think about, after all? Just a few sorry minutes of indiscretion and stupidity, that was all, but, no matter how often she tried to tell herself that her behaviour had merely been the result of too much tension and too much to drink, that didn’t stop her from being filled with shame and anguish over what she had done and from being afraid that, in some way, having once behaved so...so wantonly, she was somehow vulnerable to doing so again.
Again... No...she wouldn’t do that... couldn’t, surely? She was in such a state of panic that the telephone had rung several times before she heard it. She reached automatically for the receiver, speaking into it and then only just managing to mask her surprise when she realised that it was Ian Davies on the other end of the line.
He had been reading through her proposals and projections, he told her, and had been very impressed by them. He wanted to arrange another meeting so that they could discuss them at greater length.
Quickly Rosie opened her diary, agreeing the date he was suggesting.
‘Oh, and by the way, we must have dinner together one evening; the four of us—you and Jake and Anne and myself.’
As she replaced the receiver, Rosie couldn’t help wondering angrily if Ian Davies’s apparent change of heart towards her had anything to do with the gossip he had obviously heard about Jake and herself.
And if it had, what would his reaction have been had the gossip labelled her as Jake’s casual sexual partner as opposed to his ‘fiancée’?
It was all wrong that, as a woman, her professional and business capabilities and expertise should be judged on her personal life, but she had known from the moment she realised that her name was going to be linked with Jake’s that there were people locally who would take that kind of attitude, she reminded herself bitterly.
She stared at the telephone, half wishing that she had told Ian Davies that she didn’t want his business, her female pride outraged by his old-fashioned attitude; but if she was to maintain her father’s success she could not afford to indulge in that kind of sentimental self-indulgence, she reminded herself hardily. No.
After all, no man would do so. But then no man was ever likely to suffer the patronising attitude she had just come up against, she told herself fiercely. She wanted to be judged professionally on her own merits, not on some reflected glow from the business acumen of someone else�
��a male someone else.
She was still seething inwardly at the injustice of the attitude of Ian Davies and of all men like him when Chrissie burst into her office.
‘Rosie, how could you?’ she began bitterly, launching her angry attack before Rosie could even greet her, never mind ask her how her weekend had gone. ‘Have you any idea of what an idiot you’ve made me look? When Sara Lewis told me the news this morning, I didn’t have the faintest idea what she was talking about, and of course she realised straight away. She would... And now it will be all over town that you and Jake—’
Rosie froze.
‘That Jake and I what?’ she interrupted Chrissie huskily.
Had Chrissie heard that she and Jake had spent the night together? Were people gossiping about her, speculating on just how long she and Jake had been having a secret sexual relationship before they were found out...before she was found out? After all, no one was going to condemn Jake for having sex with her, were they? No, their condemnation, their criticism, they would all be reserved for her, Rosie acknowledged miserably.
Chrissie was glaring at her, her face still flushed with anger. It was so unusual for Rosie to take the initiative and interrupt her that she had actually silenced her, but not for long, Rosie recognised, her heart sinking.
‘That you and Jake are planning to get married, of course,’ Chrissie told her tartly. ‘What else?’
The relief that filled her was so intense that it was several seconds before Rosie recognised its shaming significance. If people were going to gossip about her, she was obviously so much a product of her small-town upbringing that she actually preferred to hide behind the deceit Jake had concocted to conceal the truth rather than to let them know what had really happened. Was she really so hypocritical?
If there had just been herself to consider it would be different but there was Chrissie and her family. Chrissie’s children were just at an age where they would be vulnerable to any kind of adverse gossip about members of their family, and then there were her parents, and the business...
‘Why on earth didn’t you say something...tell me...’ Chrissie was demanding furiously. ‘Honestly, Rosie, I don’t understand you...I mean, it isn’t as though the two of you were indulging in some kind of sordid, clandestine sexual fling. That I could understand your wanting to keep secret.’
Rosie flinched, wishing she could shut out her sister’s bluntly corrosive comments. Chrissie had no idea of the effect of what she was saying, of course. Why should she have?
‘Have you any idea of how much of a fool you’ve made me look? My own sister is on the verge of getting engaged, and I don’t know a thing about it...
‘As it is, I’m sure that Sara knew quite well that I was lying when I told her we’d decided to keep the whole thing quiet because you and Jake hadn’t decided on a final date for the wedding as yet.
‘Rosie...why didn’t you tell me? I had no idea you were even seeing Jake, never mind... To come home and find out that everyone else but me does know...and to have that cousin-in-law of his going on and on about what a pity it is that her two boys are too old to be pages, and how she’ll have to buy her outfit over here because of the difference in seasons... Honestly, Rosie, I just don’t understand you. To tell someone who’s a virtual stranger before you’d said anything to me...especially when the parents are away.’
To her dismay Rosie realised that, behind her anger, Chrissie was very genuinely upset and close to tears. Wretchedly guilty at having upset her, especially so early in her pregnancy, she said the first thing which came into her head to try and soothe her.
‘It isn’t definite that Jake and I will get engaged. The whole thing’s been exaggerated. If there had been anything to tell you, Chrissie, I would have done so—’
‘What do you mean it isn’t definite?’ Chrissie interrupted her grimly.
As she looked into her sister’s face, Rosie recognised that her attempt to soothe her had had almost the opposite effect and that, if anything, Chrissie looked angrier than ever.
‘You spent the night with him, Rosie. Oh, yes, I heard all about that,’ she added scathingly. ‘Of course, I know you’re an adult and old enough to make your own decisions, but with Allison coming up to such a vulnerable age, I hope she isn’t going to start thinking she can follow your example... It was bad enough finding out from someone else about your engagement, but if you’re trying to tell me that—’
Suddenly Rosie had had enough.
‘That what? That Jake and I made love...had sex? Why shouldn’t we? As you’ve just pointed out, we are adults. I’m your sister, Chrissie, not your daughter, and if people in this town haven’t got anything better to do than to gossip about something which is none of their business...none of anyone’s business apart from Jake’s and mine...’
She heard the outraged hiss that Chrissie gave, but ignored it, all the tension, fear and misery she had kept dammed up boiling up inside her and refusing to be contained.
‘Why should I have to tell you or anyone else what I’m planning to do? Did you tell me that you weren’t using any form of birth control and might conceive another child...’
This time she did respond to Chrissie’s outraged gasp, her temper leaving her as quickly as it had come, leaving behind it a cold feeling in the pit of her stomach and a shakiness to her muscles, plus the miserable sense of having been both unfair and unkind to her sister.
She saw that Chrissie obviously thought so as well, because she was as pale as she had been flushed before.
‘I can see there’s no point in trying to talk to you while you’re in this kind of mood,’ Chrissie told her as she turned towards the door. She paused and looked at Rosie. ‘I’m sorry if you think I’m prying,’ she added stiffly.
She had gone before Rosie could open her mouth to stop her and to apologise for her own behaviour.
Chrissie had been wrong to burst into her office demanding explanations, but she had had every right to feel hurt at what she saw as being deliberately excluded from something which was apparently common knowledge to others.
There was no chance of her being able to tell her sister the truth, though, Rosie recognised. Not after Chrissie’s outburst about the effect of her behaviour on Allison’s moral outlook.
That too had been an unfair comment, but this unexpected pregnancy had put Chrissie on edge, making her far more dramatically emotional than usual.
Pregnancy had that effect on some women, especially in the early months. Rosie remembered how she had felt... How...
She closed her eyes, balling her hands into tight, tense fists. Hadn’t she got enough misery to think about without adding that?
She would have to find some way of placating Chrissie, of course. But how? The last thing she wanted was Chrissie taking an authoritative and stage-managing role in her supposed engagement and marriage plans. She wouldn’t put it past her sister to actually almost steamroller her and Jake into marriage. It was just as well that their parents were away and not due to return for several months. Not even Chrissie would expect her to get married in their absence; by the time they did return, they could have brought their relationship to a discreet end as Jake had suggested.
None of this would have happened if Jake hadn’t laid such public and unnecessary claim to her, she told herself wrathfully ten minutes later as she paced her office, trying to think up some way to appease Chrissie without inflaming the situation any further. Now if she had not drunk those three fateful glasses of wine... Angrily she turned on her heel and stared blankly out of the window.
It was as much Jake’s fault as it was hers, she told herself stubbornly. More, because he had been the one who had first pretended...
A few words...a kiss; that could have been explained away. Her presence in his house so early on a Monday morning, wearing the same dress she had been seen out in th
e previous day...that had only one logical explanation. Only one explanation people would want to believe.
She would have to find some way of making amends to Chrissie; a small, worried frown creased her forehead. She hated being at odds with her sister, who, she knew, beneath her outer bossiness did genuinely love her and had been hurt.
She picked up the telephone receiver and dialled her sister’s number, sighing under her breath when there was no response.
She would just have to go round there this evening, and in the meantime she would just try to find some excuse that Chrissie would find acceptable.
An hour later, when she was still having trouble concentrating fully on her work, she acknowledged that if she was to get through her day’s workload she would now have to forgo lunch. The pad on which she had scribbled down Ian Davies’s name caught her eye. Was it really less than a week ago that she would have been overjoyed to learn that he was offering her his business?
She still would have been overjoyed if she had been offered it for the right reasons, she reminded herself.
The phone rang, breaking her concentration. She reached for the receiver, freezing as she heard Jake’s voice.
‘I’m at home,’ he told her. ‘We need to talk. Could you call round here?’
‘Now?’ Rosie questioned angrily. Her heart was beating far too fast and she suddenly felt slightly dizzy and sick. The last person she wanted to see was Jake, but as she tried to concentrate on thinking up an excuse that would not betray her vulnerability she heard him saying quietly,
‘Yes... If you could... It is rather important...’
What was rather important? Rosie wanted to demand, but he had already replaced the receiver, quite obviously taking her agreement for granted.
As she stepped into the reception area, she wondered if she was being oversensitive in thinking that Jane, who worked for her, was looking at her rather speculatively.
‘I...I have to go out for a while,’ she told her, conscious of the fact that her face was burning hotly and that she felt as guilty as a small child telling a fib.
