by Sara Craven
Marin felt embarrassed colour flood her face, but she kept her voice steady. ‘Thanks for the advice, Mrs Halsay, but I think I’ll manage to keep afloat.’ She added lightly, ‘Besides, Jake’s not an easy man to refuse.’
I’ll probably have to pay for that, she thought with a soundless sigh as she turned away. I hope it was worth it.
She was in her room, replacing her dress in the wardrobe, when there was a knock on the door and Jake’s voice said, ‘Marin—a word, please.’
She hesitated. ‘Can’t it wait until tomorrow? I—I’m rather tired.’
‘I’d rather we spoke now.’ He paused, then added flatly, ‘I’ll count to three, then I’m coming in.’
To find her, she realised numbly, naked except for a pair of lace briefs.
She heard him say, ‘One…’ and called back, her voice strangled, ‘No, wait—please.’
Hastily she searched along the rail for the pretty ivory satin robe which Lynne had insisted should be added to their haul and dragged it from its hanger, thrusting her arms into its sleeves and knotting the sash firmly round her slender waist.
As she opened the door, Jake walked past her into the room and stood hands on hips, viewing her critically. ‘I must remember to tell Lynne that her taste is faultless,’ he commented.
She lifted her chin. ‘If that’s all you came to say, it could certainly have waited.’
‘I don’t do waiting,’ he said. ‘I thought you’d have picked up on that by now. But I wanted to talk about something else.’ He paused. ‘Clare Dawson, who’s taken a shine to you, told me quietly that you seemed to be having a minor confrontation with Diana just now, and she was afraid you could have retired hurt.’ He shook his head. ‘I should have been with you to draw her fire.’
Marin bit her lip. ‘No need.’ She forced a smile. ‘I think I actually came off best from the encounter—this time, at least.’
He said with a touch of harshness, ‘And I fear she’s just getting into her stride. Goddamn it, I should have said no to Graham’s invitation and insisted on a weekday meeting instead.’
Marin shrugged. ‘I’ve been in worse situations.’ She thought of Greg and her skin felt suddenly clammy.
‘Then you have my sympathy.’ His mouth twisted wryly. ‘However, you don’t have to take part in Diana’s swimming fest tomorrow, if you’d rather not. I can find some way of getting you out of it.’
‘After you’ve bought me a new swimsuit?’ Marin enquired coolly. ‘I wouldn’t dream of it. And I’ll try not to make a complete fool of myself.’
‘One more thing,’ he said softly. ‘Is there really a villa in Portugal?’
‘Yes, of course. I wouldn’t lie about a thing like that. Has Lynne never mentioned it?’
‘Maybe,’ he said. ‘Even—probably. Although we don’t share every facet of our lives.’
‘For which she must be eternally grateful.’ The thought translated itself into words and escaped aloud before she could stop herself.
His eyes narrowed. ‘Save your claws for when they’re needed,’ he directed coolly. ‘Don’t sharpen them on me.’ He paused. ‘I asked about Portugal only because I’m surprised you didn’t go there when the job went pear-shaped. Wouldn’t your parents have helped you?’
‘Yes,’ Marin said. ‘But I’ve always tried to remain independent. Manage alone, whatever happened.’ And if I’d even hinted about Greg’s behaviour, she thought, Derek would have gone looking for him with an axe.
‘But instead you turned to Lynne and fell into my evil clutches.’ His mouth twisted. ‘Portugal might have been the safer option, my sweet.’
‘Safer, but fraught with long-term difficulties, because they’d have wanted me to stay. Whereas in another thirty-six hours all this will be over, Mr Radley-Smith, and you and I will never have to meet again.’
She took a breath. ‘And, now that’s settled, I’m sure you’ll want to rejoin your friends downstairs.’
His brows lifted. ‘Not when you let it be known you were having an early night,’ he observed caustically. ‘That would be considered in most circles as a delicate hint to me to join you without delay.’
He added softly, ‘Believe me, sweetheart, they won’t be expecting to see either of us until we arrive exhausted but ecstatic at tomorrow’s breakfast table.’
‘Yes, that was what Mrs Halsay implied.’ Her face was burning again. ‘But I just wanted to get away. I—I wasn’t thinking when I said it.’
‘No?’ He smiled at her. ‘And I thought it was all part of some cunning plan.’
‘I don’t think I’m that devious,’ Marin said ruefully.
‘No,’ Jake said slowly. ‘I don’t think so, either.’ He walked over to her and stood looking down into her face, the blue eyes sombre as they searched hers. ‘I should never have involved you in all this,’ he said quietly. ‘I don’t often suffer from regrets, but this is one of those rare occasions.’
She was trembling inside, her voice husky as she said, ‘Well, it’s too late to turn back now.’
‘Yes,’ he said, and there was an odd almost bitter note in his voice. ‘I know it is.’ He framed her face in hands that felt as cool as water against her flushed skin and held her for a long moment. He said softly, ‘Goodnight, Marin. Sleep well.’
He let his gaze rest on her parted lips, then after an almost palpable hesitation stepped back, turning in the direction of his own room.
Motionless, she watched him go, heard the click as the door closed behind him, lifted a hand to touch the mouth she’d thought he was about to kiss. Knowing how much she’d wanted him to do precisely that.
Wondering if he’d known too—had guessed somehow—and decided to let her down lightly with his refusal.
And, if that was indeed so, trying quite desperately to feel grateful.
She spent a restless night, her sleep interspersed with fitful dreams, and woke all too early in a bed that looked as if it had been hit by a cyclone. She then had to decide whether to get up and re-make it, or simply get up. And, feeling hot, sticky and frazzled, she went for the latter option.
She trod over to the window and knelt on the seat, resting her forehead against the coolness of the glass. Everything was still, the sky a hazy blue, the sun already gathering strength.
A walk in the garden, she thought. Peace and quiet to bolster her for the day ahead, and the storm clouds hovering not far away which had nothing to do with the weather.
She showered swiftly, then dressed with equal speed in a pair of white linen cropped trousers, and a dark blue sleeveless top, keeping one eye on the communicating door as if expecting it to open at any moment. Which was ridiculous, bordering on paranoid, when it was still as firmly closed as it had been when Jake had left her the previous night.
I have to start trusting him, she thought as she brushed her hair, then paused, wondering uneasily if it could possibly be herself she didn’t trust as she remembered vague but embarrassing fragments of last night’s dreams.
But she couldn’t afford that kind of speculation. She had to think of the money, and only of the money she reminded herself as she made her way downstairs. If she concentrated on that and nothing else, in another twenty-four hours all this would be over and her life would be back under her own exclusive control once again.
As she reached the ground floor, the chink of crockery from the dining room and a murmur of voices indicated that the staff were already busy preparing for breakfast. The drawing room was deserted, however, the French windows standing wide open to air the room, and she slipped out noiselessly on to the terrace and went down the broad steps.
The lawn was damp with early dew, and the air had a clarity and freshness not discernible in the house.
Marin knew where the pool was, because Clare Dawson had been talking regretfully before dinner last night about the herb garden that had been destroyed to make way for it by Graham’s first wife. She followed the path down to a high brick wall and pushed open the wro
ught iron gate.
As she walked in, a bird rose from one of the climbing roses growing round the enclosing walls and flew away with a trill of warning, leaving only silence.
Whatever the charms of the herb garden might have been, Marin felt as she looked around her that the first Mrs Halsay had made a good job of the conversion. There was a wooden changing pavilion painted pale yellow at one end, while wrought iron tables with cushioned chairs and parasols in pastel colours that matched the roses were set in groups round the pool.
She stood for a long moment, eyes half-closed, breathing the scent of the flowers in the warm, still air. Then she moved across the flagstones to the side of the pool and knelt, dabbling an exploratory hand in the turquoise water.
‘Trying to get some secret practice, Miss Wade?’ Diana Halsay’s voice made her start.
Mentally cursing the premature loss of her solitude, and its cause, Marin got to her feet and turned to face her hostess who was standing a couple of yards away, glossy in grey linen trousers and a matching silky top.
She said composedly, ‘Just testing the waters, Mrs Halsay.’
‘You’re certainly an early riser,’ Diana commented. ‘Fresh as a rose too. You’ve really impressed my husband. He was saying last night that you were what the French call “belle-laide”. Not strictly a beauty, but with an odd kind of attraction just the same.’
‘How very flattering.’ Marin lifted her chin. ‘I didn’t know I warranted being a topic of conversation.’
Diana gave her an old-fashioned look. ‘Oh, come on, sweetie. Not even you can be that naïve. But understand this. Whatever game you’re playing with Jake isn’t fooling anyone, except perhaps poor old Graham, who thinks you’re a really nice girl.’
Marin said tautly, ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. There is no game.’
‘I hope not.’ Diana’s smile did not reach her eyes. ‘Because I promise that you’re in a strictly no-win situation.’
‘Trying to undermine the opposition, Diana?’ Jake asked from the gateway. ‘Isn’t that against the rules?’ He walked over to Marin, put a hand under her chin and bent to kiss her lightly on the lips. ‘You were missing when I woke up,’ he said softly. ‘That’s not allowed, either.’
‘One of the things we always had in common, darling,’ said Diana. ‘We both made our own rules and changed them whenever we wished. Maybe we should all remember that.’ She added, ‘Breakfast is being served—if either of you are interested.’
And, on that, she sauntered to the gate and disappeared, leaving them alone together.
CHAPTER SIX
JAKE’S HAND WAS still clasping Marin’s chin as he looked down into her eyes.
He said quietly, ‘Are you all right?’
‘Of course.’ She freed herself, stepping back. ‘How did you know where I was?’
‘I saw you from the bedroom, crossing the lawn. I wanted to talk to you anyway, but then I saw Diana following you and decided to hurry.’
She said stiltedly, ‘She doesn’t believe it. That we’re involved—having an affair.’
‘Did she say so?’
She looked past him. ‘Pretty much.’
‘Then we’ll have to try to be more convincing.’ He nodded at a wooden bench set against the wall. ‘Shall we sit down?’
She hesitated. ‘Shouldn’t we go back for breakfast?’
‘There’s plenty of time. Besides, we do need to talk, and this seems relatively neutral territory.’
‘Talk about what?’ she asked as she reluctantly took a seat beside him.
He shrugged. ‘Maybe explore the vast uncharted wastes of all the things we still don’t know about each other. I wouldn’t want to be caught out again by something like the house in Portugal.’
‘That’s hardly likely.’ She stared down at the flagstones. ‘Besides, I think we know enough to get us through the next twenty-four hours.’
‘After which?’
‘After which we revert to being strangers,’ Marin returned, ignoring the sudden thump of her heart. ‘Getting on with our very separate lives,’ she added with emphasis.
‘Well, there we differ,’ he said softly. ‘Because I think the mutual learning-process has just begun. And that our lives are going to be far from separate.’
Her glance was wary. ‘What do you mean?’
‘You’re currently occupying my property,’ he reminded her, his voice silky. ‘You must admit that creates a connection.’
‘If so, it’s a temporary one that I’m anxious to cut as soon as possible,’ Marin said grittily. Nor does it make me your property. ‘Now I still have a job, I can soon find alternative accommodation, and I shall.’
‘Tell me something,’ he said, after a pause. ‘Are you this prickly with all your clients?’
‘No,’ she said. ‘Anyway, you’re not a client.’
‘No?’ Jake queried, the blue eyes scanning her speculatively. ‘Even when, like them, I’m paying quite generously for your services, Miss Wade? So, how do you regard me, then?’
‘You’re Lynne’s boss.’ She swallowed. ‘That’s all. I—I don’t need to know anything else.’
‘If that’s true,’ he said slowly, ‘Why do I get the distinct impression I’ve been tried and found wanting?’
Marin glanced away. ‘Now you’re being absurd.’
‘I don’t think so,’ he returned. ‘So what’s the problem? I thought I’d made it clear you can trust me not to step out of line, except in dire emergency.’
She remembered the warm weight of his body pressing her down into the bed, the glide of his fingers uncovering, discovering her exposed flesh. And all for Diana, watching from the doorway with her fixed, unsmiling smile.
No, she thought. He didn’t cross the line even then. I could have been a waxwork—or even one of those blow-up dolls.
‘Maybe I feel that convincing you I’m reliable is a big step towards proving to Graham that he has nothing to fear from me, either.’
He added bleakly, ‘And my need to do that has no connection with his being a client.’
She said, ‘You really like Mr Halsay, don’t you?’
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘And I admire him too, apart from his unerring ability to pick the wrong women.’
She gasped. ‘Are you saying your own choices have always been impeccable?’
‘No.’ Jake’s tone held a touch of chill. ‘But I don’t marry my mistakes.’
Or at all, she thought. Which is why you’d rather pretend to be close to me instead of raising the hopes of any of the girls you’re seeing, like Celia Forrest. Because you know there’s no danger of me taking you seriously—of being fooled by the way you seem to look at me sometimes, the warmth I think I hear in your voice.
Because I don’t need to be reminded that I’m your paid employee, and compared to Diana Halsay, I don’t even feature.
Yet you still can’t resist trying to make me respond even marginally to your charm. Because it’s all technique—the seducer’s check-list, and as natural to you as breathing. Nothing else.
Which means that all the real resistance has to come from me, and fighting you mentally and emotionally, as I know I must, is becoming so difficult that it scares me. Makes me dread what could happen to me if I don’t take care.
Aloud, she said tautly, ‘But then, Mr Radley-Smith, you’re not interested in marrying anyone. So maybe you should make allowances for lesser mortals.’
She rose to her feet. ‘Now, unless you have anything further to discuss, I’m going back to the house. I need some food to build up my stamina for the swimathon.’
He stood too. ‘I’m going to stay here for a while. I have some thinking to do.’ He paused. ‘I’m sorry I shan’t be around to cheer you on, but this meeting with Graham is important.’
She said quietly, ‘I know it is. And it’s why I’m here. The only reason.’
‘Not quite,’ he said. ‘You seem to be forgetting the money. And that would never d
o.’ He sent her a brief, impersonal smile. ‘I’ll see you later.’
‘Yes,’ Marin said, and walked away from him. She didn’t look back, even when she reached the gate and thought she heard him say her name.
It was scorchingly hot, and Marin was glad of the shade of the parasol as she waited tensely for the final race. The men had swum first and Chaz had eventually beaten Rob Bannister to emerge the winner.
When it was the turn of the women, Clare Dawson had declared firmly, like her husband, that she was no swimmer and would watch. In the first heat, Diana had an easy win over Fiona Stratton, and Marin had little trouble beating Sylvia Bannister, a good but showy swimmer, in the second.
But the real battle of the morning was about to take place, and everyone round the pool knew it—and also knew it had little to do with being the fastest swimmer.
Diana was powerful and sinuous in the water, rather like an anaconda, thought Marin. And the white bikini the older woman was wearing was frankly minimal, showing off her sexy figure to the limit.
By contrast, Marin was well aware that her simple black swimsuit would not win many prizes for its seductive qualities. And, judging by the smiles that Sylvia and Diana could not be bothered to hide, they totally agreed with her. But her suit’s sleek, untrammelled lines were just what she needed in the water, her long hair pinned up into a neat knot.
Rob Bannister was loudly offering odds on Diana to win, and Fiona’s husband, Chaz, was also backing his hostess.
‘We’re supporting you, dear,’ Clare Dawson whispered to Marin. ‘Don’t let us down now.’
Marin slid into the water and waited for Diana to join her. Her eventual arrival was greeted with applause and shouted encouragement.
Then the signal was given and they were off, Diana powering her way recklessly through the water, and Marin’s controlled, easy crawl keeping her just about on level terms. She’d known from the beginning that it would all depend on the turn, and so it proved. She touched the tiled surround at the far end then kicked off strongly, giving it everything she’d got, propelling herself into the lead while the other woman was still floundering.
