by Sara Craven
Oh, she'd seen the trap. She'd been on edge all evening. But she'd walked into it just the same.
You could be deeply, sincerely in love with someone, but that didn't mean lust was off the agenda. Someone had told her that a long time ago, but she'd never believed it until now.
And that was all she felt for Declan, she told herself with emphasis. Simple, old-fashioned lust.
After all, she reasoned, he was attractive, successful, and powerful—a heady mixture of aphrodisiacs indeed. He'd fed her wonderful food and paid her special attention. He might even have flirted with her a little, she thought uncertainly. Anyway, he'd done everything right.
Except that he wasn't Jeremy—and he should have been. Because that was the kind of evening she'd wanted— longed for—when Jeremy had taken her out, instead of the fiasco that had actually ensued.
So how could it be that Declan, a stranger, seemed to know almost by instinct what she would like?
More experience, she thought, wrinkling her nose as she remembered the redhead in the towel and the blonde in the restaurant There was probably little he didn't know about pleasing women—in every way.
Looking back, she supposed that she'd wanted him to be Jeremy so much that somehow some of the feelings she'd been experiencing—her confusion, loneliness and need— had been transferred to him.
That was the only excuse she could make, and pretty pathetic it was too.
Because, in truth, there was no valid excuse.
And if Jeremy was furious with her, she would have no one to blame but herself.
She pushed back the covers and trailed into the kitchen to put the kettle on, only to be confronted by Declan's pink roses waiting for attention.
She groaned inwardly. She ought not to keep them, she thought, touching one delicate bud with a tentative forefinger. They were a dangerous reminder of something best forgotten. But they were just too lovely to throw away.
While waiting for the kettle to boil, she cut the stems and arranged the roses in a jug she found in one of the cupboards.
She showered and dressed casually in jeans and a sweatshirt She'd just finished breakfast when Sasha tapped on the door.
'Hello, darling. I just wanted to tell you that I've decided to have those panic buttons installed, and someone will be calling this afternoon. I don't think women living on their own can be too careful'
'Sasha—please don't go to extra expense on my account I'm not nervous—really.' Olivia spoke awkwardly. After all, she thought, she wouldn't be staying here much longer. She'd either be moving in with Jeremy or going back to Bristol to lick her wounds.
'It's just a precaution. I'm sure we'll never need them.' Sasha's gaze alighted on the jug of roses. 'Darling—how beautiful. Pink roses.' She sent Olivia a shrewd glance. 'You have an admirer.'
'Heavens, no.' Olivia forced a laugh. 'They're just a thank-you gift. I—I did someone a favour.'
'The first flowers I ever received from my beloved were pink roses.' Sasha spoke softly, her bright eyes glinting with sudden moisture. 'He said that crimson roses were the flowers of passion, but pink blooms meant true love that would last for ever. And so it was with us,' she added with a sigh.
'In this case, I imagine they were the last bunch left in the shop,' Olivia said crisply.
Sasha tutted reproachfully. 'How very unromantic, darling. Anyway, I came to say that if you're out this afternoon, I'M let the workman in.'
After Sasha had flitted away, Olivia found herself wondering again who the 'beloved' she referred to had been.
I must ask Declan, she thought idly, then stiffened. What am I talking about? That's the last thing I need. No more cosy chats under any circumstances.
It shocked her to realise how much personal information he'd extracted from her the night before—as if he was compiling a dossier, she thought darkly.
But she wasn't going to hang about brooding. It was another fine day and she was going to take some time off, start her sightseeing programme with a ride on one of those open-top buses. Apart from anything else, it might clear her head, she acknowledged with a sigh. Help her to decide what to do next in her working life.
She left her mobile phone behind quite deliberately. She'd deal with any messages when she returned, but while she was out she wanted no interruptions or hassle. Just a few hours totally to herself.
She shared the upper deck on her bus with a party of eager Japanese tourists, commingled with some Americans and a number of Australians too, feeling self-conscious because she wasn't festooned with the latest camera equipment.
But she enjoyed the trip round various famous landmarks, and her subsequent stroll along the Embankment She found a pub offering hot roast beef sandwiches, and accompanied them with a glass of the house red wine.
Then she caught a bus to Oxford Street, and spent an agreeable hour or two exploring the big department stores, planning the clothes she would buy when she was earning regularly, and testing scents and cosmetics. In the end the only purchase which tempted her was a slice of game pie and a selection of salads from one of the food halls, which took care of supper.
When she arrived back at Lancey Terrace, she found the security firm's van parked outside, so she walked on to the gate into the garden and let herself in.
The afternoon sun was warm on her back, but there was a hint of crispness in the air, suggesting that autumn was waiting.
Not that she minded. It would be good to see the back of humid, airless nights, and besides, autumn had always represented a time of new beginnings for her. School and college years started then. It was her birthday the weekend after next, and it had been September when she'd met Jeremy again.
Almost without being aware of it, she followed the path that Humph had taken the other day, and found herself in the little clearing with the sundial. She sat down on the bench, depositing her carrier bag at her feet, and flexing her toes inside her simple navy slip-ons.
It was very quiet in the garden today. She could barely hear the incessant traffic, and most of the residents who lived around it would be at work, of course.
As I should really have been, she reminded herself, with a touch of guilt.
She still hadn't come to any firm decision about what to do. Common sense told her that the job at Academy Productions was probably the best offer she'd get for a long time. But female instinct warned her to think again.
There was no disguising the fact that she found Declan disturbing. She'd been concerned to discover how many times he'd slipped insidiously into her mind that day. How many times she'd found herself wanting to share something with him—a thought—even a wry grin about her fellow tourists, and their determination to film every inch of their route.
She remembered almost breathlessly how his silvery eyes sparked with amusement—the way his mouth slanted into a smile. He'd been smiling when he bent to kiss her. She was sure of it.
In contrast, it was even more worrying that she'd barely thought of Jeremy at all. And yet he ought to have been her chief concern.
I should be going quietly out of my mind, she thought, frowning at the sundial. Wondering what Declan's told him. Figuring out if and how I can repair the damage.
Instead, she felt remarkably calm.
She couldn't pretend that she and Jeremy had enjoyed the ideal relationship since she'd arrived in London. Maybe she'd pitched her expectations too high, and bad beginnings didn't necessarily preclude happy endings, she told herself emphatically.
He's changed since we've been apart, she thought restively. He used to be so tender and gentle when we saw each other. So full of plans. Always talking about how it would be when we could be together.
Even when he knew he was moving to London…
That could have been Beth speaking, Olivia thought, biting her lip. Coming from herself, it was arrant disloyalty. Naturally he wouldn't discuss his plans while they were still in the melting pot. Although she couldn't deny it had been a shock when he broke the news.
>
Anyway, distancing himself from Bristol and all its as-sociations should have made things easier. But that was before he'd complicated matters by moving in with Maria's cousin, she reminded herself with a touch of bitterness. And before she'd messed things up further by renting a flat just round the corner.
In Bristol, it had been difficult to see each other as often as they'd wanted, she thought defensively. Most of their meetings had been stolen, and far too brief, although they'd spoken on the phone nearly every day. She just hadn't expected those difficulties to follow them to London. That was why she felt so disappointed and—restless.
We need to sit down together and talk, she thought Not in a crowded pub, when he's waiting to dash off somewhere—or a trendy restaurant, where we can't hear ourselves think—or even in the flat, where we could be interrupted at any moment.
She looked round the clearing. This would be the ideal place. Secluded, hidden, and so peaceful. She'd sit in the circle of his arm, her head on his shoulder, and they'd make their plans all over again. Recapture the old magic.
They said wishing could make it so, she thought wistfully. And maybe it could be true.
Olivia closed her eyes, letting the warmth of the sun play on her lids, trying to conjure up an image of Jeremy as he'd been only a few months ago, smiling at her, telling her that she was the only girl in the world for him.
She tried to capture him in her mind's eye, but he was elusive, and she couldn't see him clearly. But she felt that he was close, just ahead of her down some sunlit path, and all she had to do was follow. Follow…
Only the golden glow of the sun was in her eyes, dazzling her, and she couldn't find him anywhere.
And then suddenly she was back in the clearing, and Jeremy was beside her just as she'd wanted, making her feel so safe—so secure.
She felt his hand—or perhaps his lips—brush her hair, and she smiled, and said, 'I love you.' And forced open her heavy eyelids so that she could see him at last Fill her heart with him as he affirmed his love for her in turn.
Only he wasn't there, she discovered with a start Instead she was confronted by Declan, sitting at the other end of the bench, watching her.
Olivia shot upright, uneasily aware that she had a crick in her neck.
'You?' she queried dazedly, pushing her hair back from her face. 'What are you doing here?'
'I'm a resident—remember? I live just over there.' He pointed. 'So I'm allowed to be here.'
'I meant when did you get here?' She shook her head. 'I didn't hear you…'
'You're telling me.' He sounded amused. 'You were out for the count.'
'Oh.' She gave him a suspicious look as she rubbed her neck. He would be the one to find her snoozing in the sun, she thought savagely, head thrown back and mouth, no doubt, wide open. 'Was I snoring?'
'Just purring a little.' His voice was solemn, but his eyes were dancing. 'It must have been a beautiful dream.'
She flushed. 'I—I don't remember.' She paused. 'Why didn't you wake me?'
'Because you looked so peaceful. And so relaxed too, for a change. I didn't want to see you snap back into uptight mode.'
It was disturbing to contemplate that he'd been sitting there, watching her, and she'd been totally unconscious of it She wondered how long he'd been there, suspecting that her face was red and her appearance generally dishevelled. She also hoped that she didn't talk in her sleep…
She bit her lip. 'Haven't you been at work today?'
'Indeed I have—spending a lot of time trying to contact you through your agency. When they couldn't reach you, I thought I'd try the personal approach. But when I called at the flat Sasha said she'd spotted you heading for the garden.' He spread his hands. 'So here I am.'
'My God,' she said. It's like being in the village at home. Their grapevine has the Internet beaten to a pulp. I thought Londoners minded their own business.'
'But I'm not a Londoner,' he said. I'm Irish, just passing through. And everyone in my own village takes a healthy interest in each other's affairs too.'
'But how did you know I'd be here in this particular spot?' She shook her head. 'I thought no one ever came here. That I'd have it to myself.'
'Dream on, Olivia.' His voice was sardonic. 'It's a favourite thinking place of mine too.'
'Oh.' She was silent for a moment, digesting this. Realising with chagrin that her sanctuary was nothing of the kind. More of a minefield, in fact She decided to go on the offensive. 'Why are you trailing me like this?'
'Because we've made you a job offer and we'd like an answer as soon as possible.' His tone was matter-of-fact.
'And supposing I haven't made a decision yet?' She lifted her chin.
'Then any time in the next twenty-four hours will do. No pressure, of course,' he added laconically.
In spite of herself, she felt her mouth twitch into a reluctant grin.
'Even if I'm going to say no?'
'Now why should you do a stupid thing like that?'
'An instinct for self-preservation, perhaps?' she suggested drily.
'And what makes you feel you need to preserve yourself?' His voice suggested mild interest only.
'Any number of things.' She swallowed. 'I—I shouldn't have had dinner with you last night'
'Didn't you like the food?'
'It was—wonderful.' She stared rigidly at her hands, tightly clasped in her lap. 'But that's not it I had no right to accept your invitation—get myself into that situation.'
'Well, don't worry it,' he said soothingly. 'I promise I won't make it an obligatory clause in your contract.'
She gave him a level look. 'That isn't what I mean, and you know it.'
'Why, Olivia,' he said mockingly. 'Surely you're not coming all nineteenth-century over a goodnight kiss. It's just a small social convention after all.'
'Oh,' she said 'Is that what you call it?'
'Yes,' he said softly. 'And I'm sorry to my heart if you read more into it than that'
'It was hardly,' she said, 'a peck on the cheek.'
'No,' he agreed. 'But at the same time it's a world away from the way I'd kiss you if I seriously meant to make love to you.'
He paused, and Olivia, suddenly breathless, felt the silence tingle along her nerve-endings.
'And if you don't believe me,' he added gently, the silvery eyes lingering on her parted lips, 'you could always move closer and allow me to show you.'
She swallowed past her dry throat, her gaze fixed on him as if she was mesmerised. Because, she thought numbly, it would take so little to do as he said. To go into his arms, and taste his mouth on hers again. To feel his hands exploring her bare skin, the long fingers divining all her most intimate secrets, coaxing her to some unguessed-at edge of pleasure.
'After all,' he went on, more briskly, 'the sun's warm, the grass is dry, and I've nothing planned for the next hour or so. How about you?'
She gasped, finding sanity and speech in the same second. 'Are you mad? How—-how dare you?'
Declan laughed. 'I dare because when you take on that prim look, the temptation to tease you a little is quite irresistible.'
'So, perhaps you understand why I don't want to work for you.' Her voice shook.
'Oh, you'd be much safer at work,' he said. 'There it's construed as sexual harassment, and it involves tribunals and hefty compensation. We all avoid that stuff like the plague.
Olivia hit her lip again, aware that he was still winding her up.
She said quietly, 'I notice you haven't mentioned Jeremy. He might have an opinion about my working for you.'
'And, presumably, about my taking you to dinner?' He shot her an amused glance.
'Possibly.' Her heart was suddenly hammering again.
'Then why tell him?' He sounded totally reasonable. 'After all, it was hardly a heavy date. And I meant what I said, Olivia. The truce still stands. I'm not out to make trouble for you.
Her immediate reaction was one of relief. Yet here she was again—i
nvolved with Declan in another conspiracy of silence. And that couldn't be right But she'd worry about that later.
She said, 'I still don't think accepting Academy's offer would be wise.
'No,' he said 'You're probably quite right After all, you have your future all mapped out You don't need a real job. And Jeremy's already had one career woman in his life, so I doubt he'd be keen to take on another. He finds success in others a little swamping.'
He nodded reflectively. 'I can see it would be far better for you to stick to temping. Not nearly so risky.'
Olivia stared at him. 'That's ridiculous,' she objected heatedly. It's also unfair, untrue, and not what I meant either. And Jeremy would be delighted if I got a decent job,' she added defiantly.
'I bow to your superior knowledge,' Declan said with a faint shrug. 'Then what's the problem?'
I am, she thought wretchedly. Because I don't trust myself when you're near me. I don't trust my reactions. You make me feel as if I'm being unfaithful to Jeremy, and it worries me.
Head tent, she said, 'I suppose—it's an instinctive thing…'
He sighed 'Olivia, listen to your head rather than your heart You need a well-paid job. We need a trouble-shooter—someone who can teach the secretarial staff how to use Scriptec properly.'
'But that wouldn't take all my time,' she objected.
'No, but you won't be idle,' he said drily. 'You'll be taking over Kim's duties while she's on maternity leave— providing clerical support, researching programme material. God, the list is endless.' His mouth twisted. 'I can promise you won't be bored.'
No, she thought That's what I'm afraid of.
'Would you like me to clear it with Jeremy for you? Make sure he has no serious objections?'
The faint note of mockery she detected needled her.
'I don't need his permission,' she said tautly. 'Or anyone's.'
'Then you'll take the job?'
She hesitated, then gave a curt nod.
'Good,' he said crisply. 'Then we'll expect you back on Monday. We'll make all the arrangements with the agency, and pay their commission. I hope that's satisfactory?'
