by Sara Craven
Whereas I, she told herself, swallowing, have never been even marginally in love, although now I seem to be falling in lust. And I don’t know how to deal with it.
She sighed, leaning her forehead against the warm windowpane.
I should have been like Lynne, she thought, who saw the danger and made a conscious decision to stay immune.
Only I didn’t—or perhaps I couldn’t, which is even worse.
So the very last thing I should be doing is spending this weekend pretending that he’s my lover and that all I want is to be alone with him, doing all the things that lovers do.
About which I know so much, of course, she added with bitter self-mockery.
‘Self-indulgence,’ Jake had said when he’d kissed her just now. But she couldn’t afford that kind of luxury. Not when she knew how easily and fatally that could turn into self-betrayal.
She sighed again and wriggled off the seat. You’re tired, she told herself. You haven’t slept properly one night for the whole of the past week, and maybe you should rest now, because you’re going to need all your wits about for the next forty-eight hours.
She kicked off her shoes and folded the chintz bedcover back to the foot of the bed before stretching out on the blue quilt beneath it and closing her eyes, letting her mind drift.
She was right on the edge of sleep when suddenly the communicating door was thrown open and she propped herself on an elbow, dazed and startled, as Jake strode in barefoot and minus his shirt.
Before Marin could move or utter a protest, he was on the bed with her, his body pinning her to the mattress, his hand sliding under her top to bare her midriff as his mouth came down hard on hers.
Marin found herself lifting her hands to his shoulders, feeling the strength of bone and muscle under her fingertips as her whole body clenched in response.
But at the same moment, in some corner of her reeling mind, she heard a brisk tap on her door followed immediately by the faint squeak of a hinge as it opened, and realised they were no longer alone.
‘Well, well,’ said Diana Halsay.
She stood, smiling, while Jake reluctantly rolled away from Marin, dropping a kiss on her exposed skin before sitting up, pushing his dishevelled hair back from his face.
‘I came to welcome my newest guest and make sure she had everything she wanted,’ she went on. ‘But I see you’ve forestalled me, Jake, darling.
‘I never realised before that you were into a little afternoon delight, but one lives and learns.
‘So, all I can say is please accept my abject apologies for this unwarranted intrusion. I shall have to be more careful in future.’
She turned back to the door, adding over her shoulder, ‘If you can tear yourselves apart for long enough, tea is being served on the lawn.’
The bedroom door closed softly behind her, leaving them alone.
Marin drew a deep, shaky breath. ‘You knew she was due to arrive?’
‘I was about to go into the bathroom when I heard her speaking to someone at the end of the passage,’ Jake said, his mouth twisting. ‘I guessed she’d be on her way. It seemed a wise move to let her find us very much together.’
Did it? thought Marin, trying to find somewhere to look that did not involve bare, tanned skin. Trying to forget the swift brush of his lips on her body, as well as her own grave error in touching him, holding him. As if—as if…
‘So,’ he went on after a pause, ‘Are you up for tea on the lawn?’ He reached down and smoothed a strand of hair back from her flushed face, his fingers lingering. ‘Or do you have any alternative suggestion, perhaps?’
‘No,’ she said, too quickly, flurried by the openly teasing note in his voice. ‘Oh, no.’ She swallowed. ‘Tea would be—nice.’
And infinitely safer than the kind of forbidden fruit he represented. Because it would be so terribly easy to put out a hand and touch his skin, or the dark, curling hair on his chest, or run a fingertip along his mouth. To feel once more the warm weight of him pressing her down into the mattress…
‘Then we’ll make a joint and virtuous appearance in the garden in about thirty minutes,’ Jake said, lifting himself lithely off the bed. ‘This house is a bit of a labyrinth, so I’ll knock on the door when I’ve showered and changed.’ The smile he sent her was casual, friendly. Unambiguous. ‘After all, I wouldn’t want you to get lost.’
‘But it’s too late for that,’ she wanted to cry after him as he walked back into his own room. ‘Because I’m lost already, and frightened that I won’t find my way back to the girl I used to be when all this is over.’
And knew that was something else she would have to keep hidden over this nightmare of a weekend—whatever the cost.
CHAPTER FIVE
TEA ON THE lawn had such a wonderfully cosy sound, thought Marin as she dressed for dinner that evening. It spoke of sunlight, cucumber sandwiches and daisies twinkling in the grass.
Whereas the reality hadn’t been nearly as inviting.
As she’d descended the terrace steps at Jake’s side, and looked across the immaculately shorn grass to the cluster of parasol-shaded wicker chairs where Diana presided over a table set with an opulent silver tea-service, she’d known an ignominious desire to turn and run.
‘All right?’ Jake had asked softly, his fingers tightening momentarily round hers, and she’d nodded jerkily.
There were three other couples: Sylvia Bannister, a smart brunette, with her husband, Robert, a tall, red-faced man with an emphatic way of speaking; Chaz and Fiona Stratton, who ran their own antiques business; and the Dawsons, who were clearly older than the others, and probably friends of Graham rather than his wife.
After Diana’s fairly perfunctory introductions, Marin took the first empty chair she saw and sank into it.
Jake dropped to the grass beside her chair, leaning back and resting his arm casually across her knees, a gesture of possession that she realised would not be lost on anyone present, as he undoubtedly intended.
It was like a little war, she thought, with herself caught in the middle. Maybe it was time she definitely established just whose side she was on.
It was apparent, for instance, that he’d washed his hair while he was showering and it shone, thick and glossy in the sunlight, only inches from her hand, offering her an irresistible opportunity for an intimate gesture of her own.
He’s paying me, she told herself. Maybe I should start earning my money.
She let her hand drift down almost casually, stroking her fingers through the dark, silky strands, breathing as she bent towards him the beguiling scent of warm, clean skin, soap and the faint citrus aroma of some expensive shampoo. Everything, she thought, that she would forever associate with him. And as she did so she could have sworn she felt him tense.
Her hand slipped down to touch the damp tendrils at the nape of his neck. She said very softly, ‘You didn’t dry your hair properly.’
‘I was in a hurry.’ He turned his head, his eyes smiling lazily, intimately up into hers. ‘Next time, I’ll get you to do it for me.’
She wished she didn’t blush so easily, but after all she’d started this, so she could hardly back down now. She said sedately, ‘It will be my pleasure.’
His smile widened to a grin. ‘Now that I can guarantee,’ he murmured.
‘Consuela.’ Diana Halsay spoke imperiously to the hovering olive-skinned maid. ‘Please attend to my guests.’
Within seconds, a small table was placed beside Marin’s chair and she and Jake were being offered plates providing a choice of tiny sandwiches of smoked salmon, egg and cress and some delicious pâté, plus Earl Grey tea served with lemon.
In spite of her inward churnings, Marin had managed to eat her share and chat to Clare Dawson, who was plump, grey-haired and disposed to be friendly.
As the party on the lawn eventually broke up, Diana announced, ‘Tonight’s strictly caz, darlings. I’ve invited some locals tomorrow, so we’ll save the formality for then.’
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But Jake had made it clear as they went up to their rooms that he didn’t believe her. ‘Diana doesn’t do casual,’ he said flatly. ‘Or not as any ordinary person understands it. She’s probably trying to wrong-foot you, so I suggest you wear something from the evening gear Lynne made you buy.’
She bit her lip. ‘As you wish,’ she agreed colourlessly.
It was on that very subject that she and Lynne had come close to falling out, she recalled.
She’d looked at herself with horror in the changing-room mirror as she tried on the first dress. ‘No way. My God, the skirt’s too short and the top hardly exists.’
‘What would you prefer?’ Lynne had queried acidly. ‘A nun’s habit? For heaven’s sake, honey, I thought you’d accepted that you’re dressing as Rad’s girlfriend rather than yourself. So please believe that shade of green is perfect for your colouring, and the bustier style makes the most of everything else you’ve got.’ She’d paused. ‘So stop complaining and try this next.’
This had turned out to be the dress she’d be wearing tonight, hardly more than a silky slip in turquoise, with a deep cross-over bodice and narrow straps.
Her protest to Lynne that she wouldn’t be able to wear a bra under this had fallen on deaf ears.
‘All the better,’ her stepsister had commented breezily on the way to the cash desk.
You’re dressing for a part, Marin reminded herself now as she twisted her hair into a loose knot on top of her head and secured it with a silver clip studded with yet more turquoise. Her earrings were silver too, in a simple spiral design, and she’d kept her make-up light.
But she felt hideously self-conscious when she opened her bedroom door to Jake’s brief knock and saw his eyes widen.
She said quickly, ‘Is it too much? Only you did say…’
‘You look amazing,’ he told her quietly. ‘The other women will be eating their hearts out.’
She could see as soon as they entered the drawing room that Jake’s instinct had been quite right. The men, including himself, were in dark lounge suits, but all the women were wearing cocktail dresses, Diana’s being a midnight blue spangled affair that plunged to a dangerous depth at front and back. And a fleeting look of chagrin crossed her face when she saw Marin and what she was wearing.
Robert Bannister came over, cocktail shaker in hand. His eyes lingered on the soft curves revealed by Marin’s bodice. ‘Well, Jake, you’ve always been a lucky bastard, I’ll grant you that.’ He held up the shaker. ‘Can I tempt you both to a Halsay Hand Grenade?’
Jake smiled calmly. ‘A kind thought, but absolutely not. Marin would like white wine and soda, and I’ll have a gin and tonic.’
When they were left alone, he added softly, ‘If you hate spritzers, you can feed yours to one of Diana’s plants. God knows there are enough of them around this room.’
Graham Halsay bore down on them. ‘Someone getting drinks for you both? Excellent.’ He smiled expansively. ‘Jake, you already know everyone, so let me take your charming companion under my wing and perform some proper introductions.’
And quite suddenly, it all became easier, and she was almost able to relax.
‘That’s a Fenella Finch dress, isn’t it?’ said Clare Dawson. She sighed. ‘She’s my daughter’s favourite designer, but no use to me, I’m afraid.’
Her husband Jeffrey, a large, grey-haired man who reminded Marin of her stepfather, smiled at her affectionately. ‘Well, I think you always look lovely, darling.’
That’s how marriage should be, Marin reflected wistfully, thinking of her mother, loved devotedly by two good men. Because it wasn’t about good looks, money and large houses but finding someone who was your other half to complete you, make you whole and safe. Then—keeping them close, for ever.
And wondered if she would ever be that lucky.
Her slightly sombre mood wasn’t improved when she went into dinner, and found she’d been seated next to Robert Bannister with Jake placed on the opposite side of the table and much further down.
However, the food was lovely, and she easily resisted all Mr Bannister’s slightly patronising efforts to flirt with her, so the meal, although far lengthier than she’d bargained for, was also less of an ordeal than she’d feared.
And most of the conversation was general, which meant she was not obliged to contribute.
Eventually, inevitably, the talk turned to the weather.
‘You seem to have struck lucky again, Diana,’ Chaz Stratton remarked. ‘Do you have a secret deal with the great weather-man in the sky?’
Diana Halsay joined the general ripple of amusement round the table. ‘Oh, how I wish it were true. It’s such a nightmare trying to plan anything in an English summer. I suppose that’s why so many people are moving further afield, finding themselves second homes near the Med.’
She flashed a smile at her husband. ‘I’ve been trying hard to wheedle Graham into doing the same, but he’s being awfully stubborn.’
‘We have a second home, darling,’ Graham Halsay reminded her quietly. ‘In fact, we’re having dinner in it right at this moment.’
‘Of course,’ she said swiftly. ‘But it’s a rather different story when it’s lashing with rain outside in sub-zero temperatures.’ She ticked off on her fingers. ‘Leila James has a place near Marbella, Gilly Webb is looking for a big country house in Italy and another friend of mine has been immersed in a renovation project in the South of France.’
Her laugh tinkled out. ‘And here am I, praying for two fine days in a row.’
‘You keep up the pressure, Diana,’ said Robert Bannister. ‘Graham will give in eventually.’
Will he? Marin wondered, noting the host’s set expression. Somehow, I doubt it.
‘What about you, Miss Wade?’ All eyes swivelled to Marin as Diana spoke, smiling. ‘I’m sure you must have hankered for your own special place in the sun.’
Which is why, she’s implying, that I’m dating a millionaire, thought Marin.
But she smiled back with the utmost tranquillity. ‘I’m very fortunate, Mrs Halsay. My parents have a home in Portugal, and I spend a lot of time with them there.’
Or I would, if I didn’t have to work so hard and so long in order to make a living.
‘Really?’ Diana said brightly. ‘How fascinating.’ And she changed the subject—and her target.
It was much later, while coffee was being served and she was taking a surreptitious look at her watch, that Marin found herself unexpectedly under her hostess’s spotlight again.
‘Do you swim at all, Miss Wade?’ Diana enquired sweetly from the foot of the table during a lull in the conversation. ‘Because my little Saturday morning gala is becoming quite a tradition. I do hope you’ll feel able to take part in it.’
Well, that explained the session with Lynne in the sports department, Marin thought drily. She debated whether to mention that she’d swum for her school, and in a junior county team, and decided to keep quiet.
‘Thank you,’ she responded calmly. ‘I shall look forward to it.’
‘Excellent.’ Diana’s smile wafted past her to Jake. ‘And I can’t wait to see if anyone can beat you, darling.’
‘I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed, my dear.’ Graham’s intervention was also smiling but brisk. ‘Jake and I have business to discuss tomorrow, which makes us both non-starters. I thought you understood that.’
There was a pause, then Diana sighed prettily. ‘Ah, well.’ She spread her hands in a humorous gesture of resignation. ‘This is what happens when you marry a workaholic. But I’m sure I don’t need to remind any of the wives present of that.’
She looked back at Marin. ‘Beware, Miss Wade, of becoming involved with a man who puts the job first.’
In fact, thought Marin, you’re really saying—don’t get involved with Jake. Full stop. And you’re addressing your own interests rather than mine.
She said composedly, ‘I’ll certainly bear your advice in mind, Mrs Halsa
y—if I’m ever tempted.’
As they left the dining room, Jake was momentarily detained by his host, and Marin found herself claimed by Sylvia Bannister.
‘You’ve turned out to be the surprise of the weekend.’ Her tone was faintly supercilious. ‘How did you and Jake Radley-Smith become such an item? Or is it indiscreet to ask?’
‘Certainly not,’ Marin returned. ‘We met through my sister. She works for him.’
‘Oh.’ The other woman was clearly surprised. ‘But you don’t?’
‘Heavens, no.’ Marin produced a mock shudder. ‘That would be terribly unwise. Don’t they say never mix business with pleasure?’
‘I’ve heard it mentioned.’ Mrs Bannister paused. ‘So how do you earn a crust, if I may ask?’
‘I work for the Ingram Organisation,’ Marin said coolly. ‘We supply a whole range of secretarial services for companies and private individuals.’
‘You must be good at your job. It certainly seems to pay very well.’ Sylvia Bannister ran a narrow-eyed glance over the Fenella Finch dress. ‘And when did you meet Jake?’
Marin shrugged. ‘A while back.’ She added nonchalantly, ‘But I seem to have known him for ever.’ And she realised with a little shiver of awareness that it was no more than the truth.
Mrs Bannister’s eyes narrowed. ‘Well,’ she said. ‘You’ve been his best-kept secret until now.’ She glanced towards Diana Halsay who was standing alone by the fireplace. ‘No wonder…’ She checked herself fsuddenly. ‘But that’s not important.’
‘No,’ Marin said gently. ‘It isn’t.’ She smiled politely and turned away, then after a brief hesitation walked over to Diana.
She said quietly, ‘I hope you’ll excuse me, Mrs Halsay, if I say goodnight. It’s been rather a long day.’ Nor do I want any more sessions with the Spanish Inquisition.
‘And will probably be a much longer night.’ Diana’s mouth smiled brightly, but her eyes were like stone. ‘Do make sure, my pet, that Jake allows you just a little rest. We don’t want to drag you out of the deep end tomorrow.’
