Second Tomorrow

by Anne Hampson

  ‘I’d have liked to, in spite of how we are with each other now, but it’s obviously not to be. In any case, it would have been painful for us both, I think.’

  Phil merely gave a small sigh and became thoughtful, and after a space Clare asked again if it would be all right for her to leave on Friday. ‘There’s a good connecting flight from Miami,’ she added and at last saw him nod his head.

  ‘Okay, if that’s what you want.’ He was brisk all at once, a circumstance that puzzled her greatly. ‘Friday—that’s in four days’ time.’ He was thoughtful again and presently Clare was impelled to ask, ‘Have you something on your mind, Phil?’

  ‘Plenty,’ he returned and now there was a hint of amusement on his handsome face. ‘If the hotel—and some of its more awkward guests—aren’t enough, I have you.’

  ‘Sorry,’ she returned contritely. ‘But don’t worry about me, Phil. After all, I’m the one affected by all this. It was my own stupid fault, falling in love with a man who was so far above me.’

  ‘Above?’ frowned Phil questioningly. ‘What gave you that idea?’

  ‘Well, he’s a millionaire for one thing, and for another he’s so attractive that he could have any woman he wanted.’

  ‘I agree with both statements, but they don’t prove your point. Luke would be very annoyed if he heard you say he was above you.’

  ‘I consider he is,’ she said, a little catch in her voice.

  Friday arrived at last and Clare, packing in her bedroom, marvelled at her ability to hold back the scalding tears that had gathered in a great cloud behind her eyes. Another ten or twelve hours and she would be back home . . . and her parents saddened by her arrival.

  She had asked Phil to cable them and he had promised to do so. But there was something strange about him and she half-expected him to have told her before now that he had forgotten to do what she had asked. However, as he said nothing about it she concluded that the cable had been sent.

  She had a suitcase on the bed and was just putting the last of her things into it when the door burst open without ceremony and, startled, she glanced up to see Luke standing there, black fury in his gaze.

  ‘Luke! What—?’ Clare’s heart lurched painfully and she felt the colour drain from her face as he strode into the room, kicking the door closed behind him. ‘I th-thought you were in—in Miami. Why are you here?’ she asked, managing by some miracle to steady her voice, for her pulses raced madly, completely out of control. ‘You’ve no right to come in here—’

  ‘What the devil do you think you’re doing?’ he demanded wrathfully, and, without affording her an opportunity to speak, ‘You’re not going anywhere, so you can stop all this damned nonsense—at once!’

  Dazedly Clare shook her head. ‘I don’t understand,’ she quivered, simply because she could find nothing else to say, the only thought drifting into her consciousness the fact that Phil, troubled by her decision to leave Flamingo Cay, must have decided to phone Luke in Miami and ask his help in getting Clare to stay. And yet, Phil had appeared to be resigned, and in any case, it was not logical that Luke would take the trouble to cut short his visit to oblige his friend.

  ‘No, because you’re such an idiot! What the hell do you mean by telling me that damned lie over the photograph?’

  ‘I—I—Luke, what is this all about?’ Filtering sunlight caught tears on her lashes and there was a catch in her voice as she added, ‘Phil’s been in touch obviously, but I’m still confused.’

  ‘God, I could strangle you,’ said Luke and now his voice was soft, like the sinister threat of a jungle beast. Involuntarily, Clare stepped back, her trembling fingers letting go of the scarf she was about to put in the case.

  ‘Phil has been in touch with me,’ he admitted. ‘He’s been trying for three days and managed it only a couple of hours ago. I flew over in a private plane—’ He stopped, a thunderous expression in his eyes. ‘Thank your lucky stars that I caught you in time, because if you’d put me to the trouble of going over to England for you I’d have given you the hiding of your life!’ He stopped a moment, so that she could speak, but all she did was swallow convulsively and shake her head. It wasn’t true she thought, a wild uncontrollable fluttering in the region of her heart. No, how could it possibly be true . . . ? ‘And now,’ he gritted, ‘I suppose you have grasped what it’s all about?’

  If—you m-mean you lo—Luke, what has Phil said to you?’

  Luke drew a breath as if his patience were almost exhausted. ‘He told me you were in love with me, and he got in touch because it dawned on him that I might be in love with you—’

  ‘Mrs Wesley,’ quivered Clare, raising a shaky hand to her temple in a little bewildered gesture. ‘What about her?’

  ‘If you had allowed me to finish you’d have known where she came into it. Phil suspected that I was trying to make you jealous, concluding that if he was correct then obviously I was in love with you. So he took a chance and phoned me. I wasn’t at my home or my office and so he had this difficulty—and delay.’ He stopped on seeing that Clare was trying to interrupt. ‘Well, what is it?’ His temper was abating but Clare’s happened to be rising.

  ‘You were making me jealous!’ she flashed. ‘What a rotten thing to do to the girl—you—you loved! I think you’re abominable!’

  ‘No, you don’t—’

  ‘I do! You made me suffer and I hate you for it—’ She got no further as Luke, covering the distance separating them in a couple of swift and agile strides, caught her in his arms and crushed her protesting body against the iron-hard muscles of his own.

  ‘We’ll soon see whether you hate me or not!’ Roughly he jerked her head up; the next moment his lips were hard against hers, masterfully forcing them apart, probing the tempting depths of her mouth. For a long moment she resisted, her brain working furiously in an attempt to fill in the gaps left by Luke, to discover just how this miracle had come about. But his kisses very soon conquered her resistance and she found herself swept into reciprocal passion as his possessive hands caressed her face and throat and then found the firm contours of her breasts.

  A low triumphant laugh escaped him when at last he relaxed his hold and stared down into a face flushed with happiness. ‘Well,’ he said, a glimmer of mockery in his smile, ‘you must admit I didn’t have much difficulty in overcoming the hatred you maintained you felt for me.’

  Clare laughed gently and her eyes shone up into his. ‘I ought to hate you,’ she could not resist saying.

  ‘And I ought to beat you,’ was his suave yet stern rejoinder. ‘What a dance you’ve led me! Just when I thought I’d won, and you had come to Silver Springs to tell me you loved me, it began all over again—’

  ‘It was your fault!’ she flashed indignantly. ‘If you hadn’t tried to make me jealous it would never have happened! And I didn’t come to Silver Springs to say I loved you. Well,’ she amended, ‘not at first!’

  ‘At first?’

  ‘My reason for coming was to ask you outright if you’d any intention of going steady with that worn—er—with Mrs Wesley.’

  His lips twitched at her slip but his eyes held disbelief. ‘You intended asking me that?’ he said.

  ‘I suppose I’d have found a diplomatic way, of course.’

  The grey eyes lit with humour. ‘Even I cannot conceive of a diplomatic way in which you could have asked a question like that. However, let’s not waste time on irrelevancies. If I had given you the answer you wanted what would you have done then?’

  ‘If you’d told me you weren’t serious about Mrs Wesley it was my intention to—to t-tell you I l-loved you. . . .’ She trailed off shyly, and sent him a covert glance from beneath her lashes.

  ‘So you did come to Silver Springs to talk about Stella?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You told me a fib. You said you hadn’t.’

  Clare bypassed that, saying quickly, ‘Why was she there, Luke? I mean, it wasn’t an occasion when you could use her to ma
ke me jealous, was it?’

  Clare bypassed that, saying quickly, ‘Why was she there, Luke? I mean, it wasn’t an occasion when you could use her to make me jealous, was it?’

  ‘She came uninvited. She didn’t know I was using her, remember, and so she felt she’d be welcome if she called at my home.’

  ‘Had you no qualms about using her?’ asked Clare curiously.

  He shook his head. ‘Not at all,’ he answered tightly.

  ‘You said you’d forgiven her—that you didn’t bear her a grudge.’

  ‘I forgave her because I was indifferent and I couldn’t bear her a grudge because if she hadn’t thrown me over I would not have been free to marry you.’ His eyes were tender as they looked down into hers, his mouth warm and strong against her quivering lips. After a little while he said ruefully, ‘I think, my love, that we’ve both been a little foolish.’

  ‘I know I have, and it took you to teach me that it’s futile to brood, and to live on memories.’

  ‘You don’t live on those sort of memories, Clare, darling. But the memories we shall have—well, they’ll be happy ones. I shall see to that.’

  ‘When did you start loving me?’ Clare could not help asking.

  ‘After about a month. I didn’t want to become interested in any woman—not seriously. But I must admit that even in the beginning, when you first came to Flamingo Cay, I found you attractive. So when Phil asked that favour of me it was no hardship. And after that I very soon realised that I was captivated. But at the same time I realised I had to fight a memory. You made me so angry and frustrated when you shirked the inevitable. I felt sure you loved me, and my trying to make you jealous was a last resort. It failed!’ His unconscious grip on her arm made her wince. ‘I felt I’d never win against that demented woman on whom you were wasting your pity!’

  ‘You were sorry for her as well,’ she reminded him indignantly, ‘so don’t blame me for the way I feel!’

  He gave her a little shake. ‘There’s a limit to pity. You don’t allow it to become the sole dictator of your actions.’

  ‘I was trying hard to put the memories behind me, Luke. But when Mrs Wesley came and you gave her so much of your attention, it hurt!’ There was a sudden break in her voice and a tear glistened on her lashes. ‘I couldn’t bear to see you with her, smiling and—’

  ‘Dearest.’ Luke’s tender arms came about her and for a long moment Clare just stood close to him, her head against his breast. But after a while she looked up and said, ‘It was unfortunate that you heard what Mrs Weedall was saying.’

  ‘I was furious when I heard her say she’d like to share your room, and that she was expecting to be with you every evening. And then when she spoke of that photograph—’

  ‘Talking of Mrs Weedall,’ interrupted Clare hastily, ‘she’s got to be told that I’m not going home after all.’ She glanced at his watch. ‘We’re supposed to be leaving in less than an hour. I ordered a taxi to take us to the airport.’

  ‘There’s no reason why Mrs Weedall shouldn’t make use of it,’ returned Luke smoothly.

  ‘Oh, but—’ Clare shook her head vigorously. ‘What can I say to her, Luke? She’ll be heartbroken if I don’t go with her. She’ll be heartbroken anyway when she learns that I’m getting married. What shall I do?’

  ‘Tell her that you can’t go back to England with her because your husband won’t let you!’

  ‘Husband. . . .’ It sounded wonderful, thought Clare, her eyes glowing with love for him. But she had to say, ‘You’re not my husband yet, Luke.’

  ‘I shall be in a very short time. Do you want me to come with you to see Mrs Weedall?’

  ‘No, Luke—oh, dear,’ she added, distressed, ‘it’ll be the worst thing I have ever done!’

  ‘No it won’t; it’ll be the best thing you have ever done. Tell her that Phil will take her to the airport.’

  ‘I must go with her,’ she pleaded, looking at him with an expression that ought to have softened him but didn’t. His eyes and voice were inflexible as he said, ‘Phil will take her to the airport.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘Dear Clare,’ he broke in with some asperity, ‘can we forget Mrs Weedall for a moment while I kiss you?’ And without giving her the chance of saying anything he bent his head and kissed her passionately on the lips. She clung to him, carried on the tide of his ardour as in her own love and longing she curved her slender body to the arching of his.

  ‘My dear, dear love,’ he whispered huskily, his lips tender on her cheek. ‘When will you marry me?’

  Her colour fluctuated adorably and she saw a nerve pulsating in his throat.

  ‘Just whenever you want, Luke,’ she answered shyly and, her eyes reflecting all that she felt for him, she lifted her face, inviting his kiss.