by Sara Craven
She supposed that the reason she'd got off lightly so far was that he kept his steel for worthier foes than herself.
But that could change at any time, she acknowledged without pleasure, remembering the hard lines of his mouth, and the cold silvery glint in his eyes.
Yet his mouth could soften to warmth and charm. She'd seen it do so with other women—or at least the blonde he'd been wining and dining the other night.
She closed her eyes with a slight shiver, trying to banish that particular memory, and instead found herself wondering how his lips would feel—if they touched hers—in a kiss. How it would be to stand held intimately close against his lean body.
For a moment she could almost breathe the fresh, salty scent of his skin, that she'd fleetingly encountered when he'd stood behind her at the window, that first morning at his house.
Until this moment she'd never realised that she had such total physical recall, making her body stir and warm with sudden, devastating need..
She leaned back in her chair, hands clasped behind her head, allowing the crisp material of her shirt to stretch tan across her hardening nipples. Imagining, as her body slackened—moistened—that it was the brush of a man's fingers—his mouth—his tongue creating this arousing torment.
But what man?
Olivia shot bolt-upright, her mouth dry, her heart pounding.
My God, she thought, am I going crazy? Only a few hours ago I was reunited with Jeremy, the man I love. The man I plan to spend the rest of my life with. Now I'm having sexual fantasies about a guy I don't even like. What's happening here?
She could not, of course, deny that Declan Malone was a seriously attractive man, with a high-flying career that only added to his charisma.
But what she was experiencing was the shameful equivalent of a schoolgirl crush, she told herself forcefully. People were being turned on all the time by complete strangers. That was how rock singers and film stars made their money. Yet that was safe—and harmless.
Contemplating what Declan Malone would be like in bed was not. That bordered on emotional infidelity to Jeremy.
And if the evening had gone according to plan it would have been Jeremy's arms around her in total reality, she reminded herself. Jeremy kissing and arousing her to the point where sanity crumbled and left only sensation.
But of course it hadn't worked out like that at all.
No point in pretending their reunion hadn't been a letdown. All her high hopes left stranded.
But she could hardly have expected Jeremy to jettison a business engagement in order to spend time with her, she told herself resolutely. Nor would she have allowed him to do so.
What niggled was that he hadn't even offered to rearrange his schedule for her sake. All she'd got was a vague promise for the future…
Olivia drew a deep breath. For heaven's sake, she wasn't giving him a chance, she reproved herself. After all, she was (he one who'd chosen to pop up unexpectedly, and she had to live with the consequences.
And poor Jeremy was probably just as frustrated as she was...
And that's exactly what's wrong, she thought, her spirits rising mercurially. What you're suffering from, you idiot, is a mega-dose of sexual frustration. Ami because you can't have the man you want, you've simply transferred your feelings—targeted someone else.
Culpable, but no real harm done.
Because if Declan Malone was delivered to me gift-wrapped, I'd send him back.
And, with a small fierce nod, she reapplied herself to her r with studied concentration, so much so, in fact, that when she'd finished she found herself with a slight headache.
She got up, flexing her aching shoulders. The basement felt stuffy, and slightly claustrophobic all of a sudden.
She thought, I need some fresh air.
She picked up the key for the garden, and set off up the steps.
Because it was late, she kept to the outside path, and the pools of light spilling from the uncurtained windows of the houses. Clearly no one was concerned about Peeping Toms, she realised wryly, resisting the temptation to study the brightly lit interiors as she passed, and see how the other half lived.
She wouldn't walk too far, she assured herself. Just enough to dispel the faint muzziness from her head and ensure she slept properly—and without any untoward dreams.
A faint breeze stirred the air, and brought the scent of flowers. Jasmine, she thought, breathing it longingly, her mind torn back to her West Country home.
If she pretended really hard, maybe she could imagine she was back there—and safe.
Now why did I think that? she wondered, her brows snapping together sharply. I'm fine where I am. I'm content, and will be happy.
And she quickened her stride impatiently, in the process nearly falling over a cat that had just meandered out of the bushes in front of her, his tail held aloft like a flag.
'Whoops.' Olivia caught at an overhanging branch to steady herself, while the cat began to wind itself round her legs, purring furiously. She looked more closely. 'Haven't we met before?'
From the glimpse she'd caught the day before, it looked like the one Humph had chased—the Fosters' Maximilian.
'Hi, there.' She bent and stroked him. 'Does anyone call you Max?'
It seemed someone did, because he chirruped at her, and pressed even closer, arching his back in ecstasy.
'You're such a flatterer.' Olivia ran her hand along the silky fur in a valedictory gesture. It was time she was turning back, she thought with faint unease. As it was, she'd walked further than she'd intended. If Maximilian was around, she was close to enemy territory.
'Stealing cats as well as husbands, Miss Butler?'
The mocking drawl made her straighten with a gasp, staring with disbelief to where he stood, a shadow on the edge of deeper shadows.
My God, she thought, her nails scoring the palms of her hands. I have no luck at all.
Aloud, she said coolly, 'Just making friends, Mr Malone.'
'Where would you be without the animal kingdom?' Declan said silkily. 'I thought you'd come to worship at the shrine, perhaps.' His voice sank. ' "But soft! what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east."—and Jeremy is the sun. Only you're unfortunate, because he's not up in his room at the moment,' he added prosaically. 'In fact, he's out'
'Yes,' Olivia said between her teeth. 'I know.'
'Ah,' he said. 'You've seen him, then.'
'Naturally.' She stiffened, angrily aware that she was standing in a patch of light from a neighbouring window, and that he could see her as clear as day while she couldn't see him at all. Which gave him a totally unfair advantage-as usual.
'Oh, I understand,' he said. 'You've come to thank me.'
'Thank you for what?' Olivia snapped.
'For keeping your ill-advised confidence to myself, perhaps.' His tone was dry.
'Oh,' she said, and swallowed. 'Yes.' She paused. 'Why didn't you tell him?'
'I'm not completely sure,' he said slowly. 'But it certainly wasn't out of the goodness of my heart.'
'You do surprise me.' Her voice was laced with sarcasm.
'I thought I might,' he agreed. 'And, just for the record, you also surprised Jeremy. If I wasn't the soul of charity, I'd even say you gave him a nasty shock. But perhaps that's how true love affects some people.'
'It's easy to see it's never affected you,' she flashed.
'I wouldn't argue with you there.' There was a grin in his voice the darkness couldn't hide. 'Maybe I'm not the type for grand passions. After all, they make the place look so untidy.'
'Don't you care about anything?' she demanded.
'Yes, of course. I care deeply about the integrity of my work. And I love my family,' he added, with a touch of grimness.
Olivia bit her lip. 'But all the same you've decided not to say anything—to Jeremy?' She felt as if she were standing in a spotlight, naked, defenceless. All her emotions exposed to his merciless gaze.
'Let's say I've d
ecided to let nature take its course,' Declan said blandly.
It wasn't a satisfactory answer, but something told her it was the best she was likely to get. Also, to get out while the going was good.
She said stiltedly, It's getting late. I must get back. Goodnight'
'Going already?' He sounded disappointed. 'I thought at the very least you'd hang on and serenade the man beneath his window. Perhaps I'm the true romantic after all.'
'You, Mr Malone?' Olivia tilted her chin scornfully. 'You haven't one romantic bone in your body.'
'Nevertheless,' he said softly, 'if you'd travelled a couple of hundred miles to see me, you wouldn't be alone in bed tonight So sleep on that, Miss Butler.'
The shadows moved, and he was gone.
For a moment Olivia was completely rigid, staring after him. Then she turned slowly and made her way back to her basement, furiously aware that her heart was pounding and her cheeks felt as if they were on fire.
'Damn him,' she muttered as she locked the gate behind her. 'Damn him to hell—and back again.'
In spite of everything, the fresh air did its work, and instead of lying awake brooding, as she'd half expected, Olivia slept almost as soon as her head touched the pillow.
She was eventually woken by her mobile phone.
Jeremy, she thought, snatching it up, but instead it was Sandra Wilton, calling to offer her a job.
'Bit of an emergency, this one,' she announced. 'One of our small business clients—he runs a property rental office in partnership with his wife, who's sprained her ankle. He needs someone to step into the breach until she can make it back into work, so it's not a long-term proposition. I'd say a couple of days at most.'
'It's also quite close to you—Kensington High Street Can I tell him you're on your way?'
'What would I be expected to do?' Olivia asked, noting down the name and address.
Sandra chuckled. 'Apparently it's Mrs Sutton who knows how the computer works, so poor Colin is currently climbing the wall. You'll earn your money if you can show him how to get into his database and perform a few simple functions.'
Sandra had not exaggerated. On her arrival at Personal Property, Olivia found a tall, elegantly dressed man with greying hair eying the computer as if it were a poisonous snake.
'Vicky told me what to do,' he said wretchedly, once they'd introduced themselves, 'what keys to press and all that, but it doesn't seem to respond. I think I've broken it.'
Olivia smiled at him soothingly. 'Let me see what I can do,' she said, unobtrusively switching on the power source.
'My God.' Colin Sutton stared at the sudden burst of activity on the screen. 'How did you manage that?'
Olivia kept her face straight 'Just a lucky guess,' she said gently. 'Now, where do you want me to start?'
As the name of their business suggested, the Suttons offered a property search service, matching people carefully with their accommodation requirements, and managing the rental arrangements thereafter.
'Our clients like to feel they're being treated as individuals, whether they're landlords or tenants,' Colin Sutton explained. 'A lot of our properties are owned by people working abroad, and they have the reassurance of knowing their homes are going to be occupied by tenants who appreciate them, and respect them too. Our aim is to keep the whole thing as trouble-free as possible.'
Personal Property was clearly a thriving business. The phone rang constantly, and there was a steady stream of callers too. During the afternoon, when it was quieter, Mr Sutton went to look at two flats the company was being asked to manage, and Olivia held the fort alone.
It gave her the chance to browse through the register of available properties and print off the details of three or four which she hoped might interest Jeremy. That was if they were in the right area, she amended ruefully.
Her brows rose when she saw the rents, but by the time they moved in she would have regular work and be able to make a proper contribution, she told herself.
But the real shock came when she found a basement bedsit, almost identical to her own, and in the Lancey Gardens neighbourhood, costing twice what she was paying.
When Colin Sutton returned, she asked rather shyly if it was a mistake.
'Far from it,' he told her briskly. 'That's one of the cheaper ones.'
Which gave Olivia serious food for thought as she went home that evening, having assured an anxious Mr Sutton that she would be back sharp at nine the following morning.
On the way down to her basement, she knocked at Sasha's door, intending to have it out with her, but there was no reply.
She's probably taking Humph for a walk, thought Olivia. I'll write her a note and pop it through the door.
She composed her letter carefully, saying merely that she wished to discuss the rent, and would be grateful if Sasha could spare her some time that evening.
She'd shopped during her lunch-break, and now set about preparing her evening meal—pork steak casseroled with tomatoes, onions, mushrooms and wine.
When it was all simmering nicely, she decided to have a shower. She'd just finished, and, wrapped in her bathrobe, was towelling her hair vigorously, when there was a knock at the door.
Sasha, she thought, tossing the damp towel on to a chair.
But as she opened the door her welcoming smile died on her lips and she took a step backwards, gazing with stupefaction at Declan Malone.
'You?' she said 'What are you doing here?'
'I came to see you about this.'
Olivia saw with outrage that he was holding up her note.
'Do you usually read other people's private correspondence?' she demanded icily.
'Only when I'm asked,' he said with equal coldness. 'Sasha hates wearing glasses, and avoids doing so at all costs, although she can't read a word without them. So I told her it was a double glazing hand-out.'
Olivia gasped. 'Well, how dare you?'
'And how dare you?' he came back at her sharply. 'She's charging you little enough as it is, but you want to beat her down still further, you mercenary little cat And because she's got a heart like putty she'd probably let you get away with it'
For a moment Olivia was stunned, but only for a moment Then anger took over.
'Oh, you have me completely summed up,' she said, her tone heavy with irony. 'There's nothing I enjoy more than defrauding people who've been kind to me. That's when I'm not stealing from orphans and mugging pensioners, of course.' Her voice nearly cracked. 'Now get out of here.
'I'm going nowhere.' He walked in, and closed the door behind him. 'Look, maybe I was a bit harsh…
'Maybe?' Olivia choked out a savage laugh. 'Oh, not you. You're devoted to the integrity of your work—remember? Being judge, jury and executioner all rolled into one, and most impressive—as long as you're not on the receiving end.'
She swallowed. 'And I suppose it becomes such a habit it spills over into your private life too,' she added furiously.
'Not,' he said slowly, 'that anyone's ever told me.'
'They wouldn't dare.' The tendrils of her hair felt damp against her neck, and she was acutely conscious that the robe was her only covering.
Declares mouth tightened. 'I can appreciate you may be having financial difficulties,' he said, after a pause. 'London prices are always a shock to anyone moving up from the provinces. However…'
'However—nothing.' Olivia lifted her chin. 'And kindly don't patronise me. I didn't come here on a wing and a prayer. And I'm not some indigent, looking for charity either,' she added heatedly. 'I'm perfectly able to pay the rent Sasha's asked for. But I'm temping at a rental agency, and my concern is that she's not charging enough. That she doesn't realise how much the market average has risen. That's what I wanted to talk to her about'
She paused, glaring at him. 'Not that it's any concern of yours.'
'You forget, I sent you to her. That makes me responsible.'
'Oh, let's hear it for the Good Samaritan.' She was trembling. 'Now, please
leave.'
'Not until we've sorted this out' He picked up the towel and held it out to her. 'You're getting cold. Go and dress, then we'll talk.'
'And why should I?'
'Because I don't want you catching pneumonia and laying it at my door,' Declan retorted. 'Off with you, now.'
She gave him a mutinous look, then headed for the bathroom, grabbing jeans and a sweatshirt as she went.
She dragged on her clothes, then brushed her hair back from her face with severity, confining it at the nape of her neck with an elastic band.
For once he'd be confronted by a woman who wouldn't dress—or undress—to please him, she thought, giving her reflection a curt nod of approval.
Declan was lounging in the armchair, but as Olivia came back into the room he rose to his feet.
'I turned down the light under the pan on the stove,' he said. 'I didn't want your dinner to burn.'
'Checking that I can afford food?'
Declan lifted his hands in a resigned gesture. 'Let's call a truce, for God's sake. All right—I misjudged your motives over the rent; I admit it'
'But in light of all my other vices you thought you were justified.' Her voice was bitter. 'How was it you saw my letter anyway? What were you doing round at Sasha's? Spying on me, I suppose?'
'Don't over-estimate your importance,' Declan told her curtly. 'I help Sasha every month with her household accounts. Book-keeping isn't her strong suit.'
'I'm not surprised—when she doesn't even charge economic rents.'
'She may not have the soul of an accountant,' Declan said, after a pause, 'but she possesses a kind heart in abundance. She charges what she thinks people can manage to pay. She likes to have the rooms occupied. Making a profit isn't her prime concern.'
'But how can she afford to do that?' Olivia objected. 'She must have outgoings—building maintenance. Does she work?'
'She doesn't act on the stage any more,' he said. 'But she's still in demand for radio, and voice-overs.'
'Oh, I see.' Olivia wasn't sure that she did. 'And does she earn enough from that?'
'Probably not But she has a private income in addition.' Declan raised his brows. 'Is there anything else you'd like to know?'
