by Penny Jordan
She didn’t want to see him tomorrow. She didn’t want to see anyone. She wanted to hide herself protectively away. She wanted to escape from the dreadful nightmare her life had suddenly become.
So why then, when she did eventually fall asleep, did she dream so vividly about him…about the sensation of his mouth moving against her own…about the sensation of his hands against her skin, holding her, loving her with the old haunting tenderness? She woke up aching with need, her face damp with tears as her dreams had turned the key in the lock she had refused to open, and once again she had been that sixteen-year-old who had given herself so eagerly and completely, who had given herself with love and been given love in return.
Now, when it was over twenty years too late, she allowed herself to recognise that there could have been no way he could have manufactured his responses to her…his need for her…his tender, loving initiation of her, once she had whispered to him that he would be the first…
She moved uncomfortably in her bed. Not just the first, but the only. Her composure suddenly broke apart under the strain of all that had happened and she turned her face into her pillow, crying as though she was once again that heartbroken, devastated girl, and not a woman of thirty-seven with a grown-up daughter of her own, and a life-style which she had deliberately chosen to exclude the male sex.
CHAPTER FOUR
KATE tensed as she heard a car pull into the drive and over the gravel. It was almost ten o’clock, and despite the fact that physically she was exhausted she had been unable to sleep any later than half-past six. And what sleep she had managed had not really been restorative. Her dreams had been too haunted by images from the past, by feelings and sensations she had thought long ago dead and buried.
The cumulative effect of the shocks of Joss’s unexpected reappearance in her life and the discovery that he had not, after all, cold-bloodedly deceived her had had an undermining effect on her self-control.
It was ridiculous to feel like this, she derided herself, as jumpy and apprehensive as a teenager, both dreading and longing for her first date. And anyway Joss was not coming to see her…he was coming to talk about Sophy.
She tensed as she heard male footsteps on the gravel, and then relaxed as she saw James’s familiar silver-grey head come into view.
It was just as well that she and Lucy had arranged that she would have the weekend off, she reflected tiredly as she went to let him in. She didn’t know how she would have coped with Joss’s appearance if she had been committed to organising catering for a major event as well.
‘I was just driving past and I thought I’d call in and see if you’d heard anything from the newlyweds yet,’ James told her as she invited him into the kitchen.
‘Sophy telephoned earlier in the week to let me know they’d arrived safely and that they were enjoying themselves,’ Kate told him, offering him a cup of coffee.
He shook his head. ‘No time, I’m afraid. You’re pushing yourself too hard, Kate,’ he warned her, looking directly at her. ‘Try to slow down. You’re not…’
‘Getting any younger,’ she supplied drily for him, wondering why all at once that knowledge should hurt her.
‘That wasn’t what I was about to say,’ he reproved her. ‘What I was going to say was that you aren’t physically overstrong anyway. You’re losing too much weight,’ he told her bluntly. ‘What’s wrong?’
She gnawed on her bottom lip, wishing she could tell him the truth, but feeling that it was unfair to burden him with her problems. She was old enough to be able to deal with them herself, or at least she ought to be.
‘Post-wedding blues, I suppose,’ she fibbed, avoiding looking at him, her heart suddenly somersaulting as she heard another car pull up in the drive.
A confusing mixture of sensations flooded her. She wanted to turn and run and hide, and yet at the same time her pulses were leaping in anticipation. Her breath locked in her throat, and a soft blush of colour touched her skin, her fingers clenching on the worktop as she stared wordlessly towards the window.
Only when Joss actually stepped into view did she acknowledge that a part of her had feared that he might change his mind and simply go back to wherever he had come from.
Feared? She examined her choice of verb uneasily, while behind her James studied her reactions with frowning concern.
She went to let Joss in, and saw him check as he looked across the room at James.
She introduced them, suddenly feeling ill at ease and uncomfortable—aware of a tension leaping between them, but not knowing what had caused it, and guessing that James must be wondering who Joss was and why he was visiting her.
‘James was just about to leave,’ she said awkwardly, trying to fill the thick silence.
She saw James’s eyebrows lift a little.
‘So I was,’ he agreed, and as he walked past her he patted her arm and said warningly, ‘Try not to forget what I said, will you, Kate?’
‘What exactly did he say?’ Joss asked her curtly after they had both watched him walk past the window in silence. ‘That you weren’t to have anything to do with me?’
Kate’s jaw dropped as she turned and stared at him, confused by the biting challenge in his voice. Last night he had been as caught off balance by the truth as she had herself; this morning he was different; this morning he was once again the man of the churchyard: distant…faintly austere, very much in control of the situation and himself, displaying no hint of any vulnerability.
‘No…why on earth should he say that?’
There was a moment’s silence, and then Joss taunted softly, ‘He’s your lover, isn’t he?’
Kate was staggered. ‘No, he is not!’ she said indignantly. ‘He’s my doctor, and Sophy’s godfather.’ Pink colour stained her skin as she gave vent to her anger. ‘If you must know, his comment had nothing whatsoever to do with you.’
‘Your doctor?’ Joss repeated frowningly. ‘You’re not ill, are you?’
‘Not ill, no,’ she responded absently, still trying to come to terms with the fact that he had thought James was her lover.
‘Then what?’ Joss pounced, startling her into looking up at him, her expression registering her confusion. ‘You said he was your doctor. He was obviously here for a reason. You say that you aren’t ill…’
‘He’s also my friend,’ Kate pointed out drily. ‘He’d simply called round to see me, that’s all.’ But she knew she wasn’t sounding convincing and, exasperated both by his questions and her own reaction to them, she said tartly, ‘If you must know—not that it’s any of your business—he thinks I’m overdoing things, losing too much weight. I told him it was simply because of the build-up to Sophy’s wedding.’ She grimaced wryly. ‘Most women of my age seem to have a problem keeping their weight down, not building it up. I suppose I should be grateful…’
‘What exactly are you trying to imply, Kate? That you’re middle-aged and menopausal?’ he asked acidly. ‘Come off it. You’re thirty-seven years old and you look closer to twenty-seven. More like Sophy’s peer than her parent…’ He ran his hand through his hair, ruffling its sleek darkness and suddenly looking less austere, more approachable. ‘I couldn’t believe it when I saw you last week. I thought at first I must be hallucinating…either that or you had a younger sister almost identical to you… Why have you never married?’ he asked her abruptly.
The question caught her off guard. She had thought he was coming here to discuss Sophy, not her.
‘I…I don’t know,’ she fibbed, and then, seeing the ironic look he gave her, added defensively, ‘There aren’t that many men who want to take on a woman with a child, you know.’
‘No?’ He came towards her, surprising her with the speed at which he moved. She was trapped between his body and the wall behind her, panic clawing through her at his proximity. When he reached out and put his palm against the side of her face, she flinched back from him. Immediately his hand was removed and he said curtly, ‘Look in the mirror, Kate—or are y
ou blind? Last week at the wedding there were at least a round dozen men eyeing you in much the same way as a dog eyes a particularly juicy bone.’
Mingled with her shock was the realisation that when he’d touched her he had simply been going to turn her head in the direction of the wall mirror, and her face stung with hot colour as she realised how ridiculous her behaviour must appear.
‘Maybe,’ she agreed bitingly. ‘But I doubt very much that marriage was what they had in mind. I don’t go in for cheap affairs,’ she told him icily, drawing herself up and glaring at him. ‘Besides, my private life is hardly any of your concern, is it?’ she demanded challengingly, and then surprised herself by asking curtly, ‘Have you told your…your secretary about Sophy?’
His eyebrows drew together in a deep frown as he stepped back from her and then studied her.
‘No,’ he said urbanely. ‘Ought I to have done so?’
Sensing that he was mocking her, Kate compressed her lips. ‘I don’t know,’ she told him coldly. ‘I suppose it depends on exactly how…personal your relationship with her is.’
The frown darkened. ‘Meaning what, exactly?’
Oh, he didn’t like it when she questioned him about his personal life, yet he obviously thought it was perfectly in order for him to make odious assumptions about her own relationships.
‘Meaning that, last week, she was pointed out to me as the future Mrs Bennett, and naturally, in those circumstances, I would assume that you have discussed with her your discovery that Sophy is your daughter.’
He looked at her coldly, so coldly that she felt as though the temperature in the room had actually dropped, and then he said cuttingly, ‘If you’re inferring that she is my mistress, then you’re wrong. My relationship with her is a purely business relationship.’
The biting contempt in his eyes stung her into retaliating sharply, ‘Oh—does she know that?’
And then, abruptly, the fight went out of her. What on earth was she doing? She was reacting like a jealous adolescent…and why? She had no right to be in the least curious about his relationship with the redhead…no right at all, and still less to question him about it.
‘I’m sorry,’ she apologised tautly, turning her back on him. ‘Of course it’s none of my business—’
‘But, mother-like, you want to ensure that your child is not exposed to any undesirable influences,’ he mocked her acidly. ‘Kate, Sophy is almost twenty-one years old. She’s an adult, not a child.’
Thank heaven she had her back to him. Did he really believe her comments had arisen from maternal desire to protect Sophy?
It seemed he did, because he went on grimly, ‘I know you’re her mother, but there comes a time when every parent has to cut the apron strings. You could drive her away, you know, by being too possessive. If I were you…’
It really was too much. She swung round, her eyes brilliant with pain and anger.
‘But you aren’t, are you?’ she threw at him, balling her fists. ‘How dare you walk in here and tell me how to relate to my daughter…give me lectures on being an over-possessive mother? For your information, I am not over-possessive, and I need no help from you…’
To her humiliation, her voice became suspended as she struggled against the tide of emotion threatening her and was swamped by it. Hot tears sprung from her eyes and rolled down her cheeks and, furious both with herself and with him, she made to dash them away with one balled fist.
‘Kate… Oh, lord, I didn’t mean to upset you.’
‘Don’t touch me,’ she warned him, but it was too late. She was already in his arms, her face pillowed against his hard torso while her tears soaked his shirt.
She could feel the heat of his hands against her spine through the fine cotton of her shirt. One of them dropped to her waist, resting on the thicker fabric of her jeans as though he was about to curve her into his body in the old familiar way, and immediately she tensed, realising.
‘Let me go,’ she demanded shakily, pulling back from him. It was too dangerous standing so close to him like this, breathing in the warm man-scent of him, being made dizzy by a thousand sensations and memories she had forgotten ever existed. Her heart was beating far too fast, her nerve-endings so intensely aware of him that they were practically sizzling. Her pulse was beating frantically and she could feel the familiar curling sensation gripping her stomach, rendering her achingly aware of him.
He didn’t release her. Instead he slid one lean hand into her hair and tugged gently on it, so that she was forced to tilt her head back and look up at him.
‘Look at you,’ he said softly. ‘I think you must be some kind of enchantress. You look more like a little girl than a grown-up woman.’
Fear flashed through her as he lowered his head. He saw its reflection in her eyes and tensed.
‘What’s wrong, Kate? You’re not frightened of me, are you?’
‘No,’ she told him truthfully. It wasn’t him that she feared, but herself. ‘I’m just not used to being manhandled against my will. I asked you to let me go, remember?’ she said acidly.
He released her immediately, stepping back from her, apologising formally. ‘I’m sorry. For a moment I forgot.’
Kate ignored the half-murmured comment.
‘You wanted to talk to me about Sophy,’ she reminded him. ‘If you’d like to come through into the sitting-room—’
That was better. That cool distance in her voice informed him that, whatever might have linked them together in the past, whatever she might have once felt for him, the present was different. She was different.
She led him, not into the comfortable sitting-room, but into the more formal drawing-room which she and Sophy rarely used, indicating a large armchair to one side of the fire.
He subsided into it, looking far more at ease in the formal room in his elegant dark grey business suit than she did in her jeans and shirt.
She hadn’t bothered doing anything more than pull a brush through her curls when she’d got up, and dab on her customary eyegloss and lipstick, determined not to make any special effort on his behalf. No doubt now the lipstick and the eyegloss were all gone and her eyes were looking as pink and screwed up as a rabbit’s, she thought wryly, her mouth relaxing into a half-smile as she remembered the pains she had once taken to dress up for him and impress him.
‘Coffee?’ she offered, silently suppressing the memories.
He shook his head, and said tersely, ‘Kate, I’d like to ask you if you have any objection to Sophy knowing who I am and why I haven’t been around,’ he added bleakly.
It was exactly what she had been expecting, and surely there was no real need for her heart to start pounding like this, as though she was a threatened animal, desperately seeking cover?
‘No comment?’ he said lightly when she said nothing.
She shook her head, not yet trusting herself to speak. When she did, her voice sounded rusty and strained. ‘What is there to say? We both know that I can’t stop you.’
‘But you’d prefer me not to, is that what you’re saying? You’d prefer me to stay out of your lives?’ he pressed.
Their lives. Didn’t he mean Sophy’s life? She struggled between the truth and the knowledge that she had no right to deny Sophy the opportunity to get to know him.
‘That isn’t my decision to make,’ she said painfully at last. ‘In the circumstances…after what came to light last night, there is no justifiable reason why Sophy shouldn’t know the truth.’ She couldn’t sustain the level, thoughtful look he was giving her.
‘You’ll have her address, of course…John’s mother…’
‘Would doubtless give it to me if I asked,’ he agreed curtly. ‘But that isn’t what I have in mind. For Pete’s sake, Kate, do you really think I’d be so crass as to simply arrive unannounced; knock on her door and say, “Oh, hello, I’m your father…”—or is that what you’re hoping I’d do?’ he accused softly. His face took on a bitter, brooding look. ‘I suppose it’s only n
atural that you should feel like that…after all, looking at it from your point of view, I’ve hardly given you any reason to feel kindly towards me—’
‘You could feel exactly the same way about me,’ honesty compelled her to interrupt.
Joss shook his head. ‘No, Kate. I don’t blame you at all. If anything…’ He sighed faintly. ‘Look, I know all this has been a shock for you, but bear in mind that it’s been just as much of a shock to me. To discover after all this time that…’
‘That you have a daughter,’ Kate supplemented for him. ‘Yes, I can understand that.’
Something seemed to flicker in his eyes…some private sadness she couldn’t understand.
‘I was going to ask you if you could bring yourself to break the news to Sophy for me,’ he said heavily, standing up. ‘Selfish of me, I know, but I thought if you told her…’ He gave her a brief, twisted smile. ‘I don’t want to shock her, you see, and—’
‘You want me to tell her.’ She got up and paced the room in agitation, her heart pounding, and yet wasn’t what he was suggesting the best way of breaking the news to Sophy? Wouldn’t it be better for her to hear the news from her…for her to explain to Sophy just what had happened?
‘I’d have to invent some reason for visiting them,’ she said awkwardly. ‘They live in London.’
‘Yes, I know,’ he said calmly. ‘And so do I. Perhaps a shopping trip…or a visit to friends.’
‘A shopping trip!’ Kate frowned doubtfully. ‘Sophy’s always urging me to spend some money on myself. It would mean staying over for a weekend. I’d have to find a hotel…’
‘Leave all that to me,’ Joss told her, adding quietly, ‘Does that mean that you’d be willing to do it, Kate?’
She wanted to refuse; her own sense of self-preservation demanded that she refuse, but when she looked into his face what she saw there made her swallow back her own feelings, unable to stop herself reacting from the need she could see in him.
‘Yes,’ she said huskily. ‘Yes, I’ll do it.’
