She set the stage carefully, going home early to shop and then prepare a meal. On the table she put a low flower arrangement with a stumpy candle in its centre. Even though it was still light outside, Tasha drew the curtains and lit only a couple of lamps. She plumped up the cushions on the settee and for good measure sprayed some of her French perfume in the air. Then she stood back and grinned with pleasure; the place looked like a film-set for a big seduction scene.
Brett arrived promptly, carrying a bouquet of flowers so large she could hardly see him behind it. Dropping it on the coffee-table, he swept her into his arms, lifting her off her feet, then laughed with sheer pleasure before kissing her deeply. It was a long time before he let her go, slowly lowering her until she was standing again but going on kissing her as if he never wanted to stop. Eventually, though, he raised his head and gave a long sigh of contentment. 'God, I needed that.' He smiled down at her, his eyes tender. 'You'll never know how much I've missed you.'
Tasha returned the smile, at the same time wondering how on earth she'd been so gullible. Was it his tough good looks or his air of worldly self- possession that had so seduced her? Or was it the wonderful way he made her feel when he kissed her? Even now, even though she knew him for the cheat he was, she had for a few minutes fallen under the spell of his kiss. His warmth and closeness got to her, making her remember how gloriously wonderful it had been when they made love. It took a huge effort to put those thoughts out of her mind, to feel instead the emotions that had been choking her since she'd found out the truth about him.
Inwardly she felt terribly angry and bitter. The anger was directed mostly at herself; she'd thought herself adult enough to judge character, but Brett had lied to her about his past almost from the first moment she'd met him, and she had believed every word he'd said. Well, then, let's see if she could be a good enough actress to deceive him in turn.
Playing with the hair at the back of his neck, she said huskily, 'Me, too. How are you? Are you OK?'
'Fine—except that I've scarcely stopped thinking about you every minute of the day. Here, these are for you.' Picking up the flowers, he gave them to her.
'Oh, how gorgeous!' Tasha buried her face in them so he couldn't see the malevolent look that came into her eyes. She had been right; such lavish flattery could only mean that he did want to use the rest of her notes.
They had dinner and Tasha was careful to keep the conversation light, impersonal. Brett, too, seemed to like it that way; he had every opportunity but he made no mention of the article that had appeared in the paper. He seemed on a high, laughing and smiling a lot, sometimes even smiling at his own thoughts. As well he might, if he thought that he was easily going to persuade her into letting him write a whole series based on her idea, her research, her contacts. Somehow Tasha managed to conceal her feelings. She cleared away after the meal and then Brett pulled her down to sit beside him on the settee.
'Don't you want to know what my surprise is?' he asked.
'Of course. But first…' Leaning forward, Tasha put her hands on either side of his face and kissed him lingeringly. Then said breathily, 'It was so wonderful when we were together down at your cottage.'
'The best,' he agreed. 'The most fantastic time in my life.'
He sounded so sincere, the hypocrite! Mentally fuming, Tasha nevertheless made herself sound anxious and in need of reassurance as she said, 'You do rare about me, don't you, darling?'
'You know I do.' His voice was thick. 'I want to share everything with you.'
But most of all my notes on the sexual exploitation programme, she thought vindictively. But somehow Tasha managed to smile and say, 'Why, that's marvellous. Because I have something I want to share with you.'
Putting his arm round her and looking deep into her eyes, Brett said intensely, 'I want us to be close, Tasha. Not just as lovers. I want us to be close in every way. As friends, companions, partners. To share everything. To work together, even. I just know we'd make a really good partnership. Together we can do anything, get anywhere we want to be.'
His voice, his eyes, were full of enthusiasm, and it was all Tasha could do not to show him up for the liar he was. But she pretended to be carried along with him, laughing with delight. 'Oh, yes! I'd love that too—especially now.'
'Now?'
'Because of my surprise that I have for you. It's really the most fantastic thing,' she said excitedly. 'At first I wasn't certain, but after what you've just said about sharing our lives I'm sure you're going to love it.'
He looked at her indulgently. 'And just what is this wonderful surprise?'
'I just know you're going to be absolutely over the moon.' She strung it out, enjoying herself, savouring the moment of revenge.
'What is it, then? Hey, come on, after all that buildup don't keep me in suspense.'
Smiling, watching his face, Tasha said, 'Why, it's simply that I'm pregnant, darling.'
CHAPTER EIGHT
Tasha watched as the smile became fixed on his face and the colour slowly drained from his cheeks.
'You—you're joking, of course.'
'Would I joke about something like that? Isn't it the most wonderful news?'
Taking his arm from round her shoulders, Brett sat back and looked at her. He blinked a couple of times, then said in a strangely odd voice, 'I thought that you had taken all the precautions necessary for this not to happen.'
'Did you? Obviously not.'
'Are you certain about this, Tasha?' His voice was stronger now, a little harsh at the flippancy of her answer.
'Quite certain.'
Brett could only stare at her, feeling completely devastated. All his senses seemed to have gone numb. He felt that he had stepped back in time, to an age when the Pill had never been invented. This was the kind of scenario that young men had nightmares about, but he had never thought of it happening to him; the women he knew were all too sophisticated and worldly wise to get caught in a trap like this. But maybe it was a trap that had been set for him. He looked searchingly into Tasha's face but could read no guilt there. She was watching him closely, studying his face to read his reactions, he supposed. He wasn't sure if he was behaving well or badly; it had been too much of a shock for him to start thinking straight yet.
Fumbling, he said, 'It must be early days yet. Isn't there a pill or something you could take to counteract it?'
'No, there's nothing I can take,' Tasha returned evenly.
Her eyes, so beautifully blue and clear, were still studying his face in an almost detached way.
Brett stood up, paced the floor a couple of times to try to start his brain functioning again, but the space was too confined. He felt like a prisoner in a padded cell and needed space and air. His tone abrupt, he said, 'I'm sorry, but you've given me a shock. I have to think about this. I'll be back.'
He strode out of the flat, yanking open the door and not bothering to shut it. Tasha could hear him running down the stairs, taking them two at a time as if all the devils of hell were after him, his steps fading until she heard the basement door slam closed behind him.
So it was over. Her ploy had worked far better even than she could have hoped. Going to the window, she saw that Brett was already passing under the streetlight at the corner, then he turned it and was out of sight. That would be the last of him, then; she would definitely never see him again. And he would five in fear of her pursuing him for child maintenance for years. It was exactly what she had expected to happen; Brett had behaved like the liar and the cheat he was, running away at the first sign of trouble.
Tasha sat down on the window-seat knowing that she should be feeling good, that she should be pleased to be rid of him and that he would feel hunted for a long time to come. But somehow she felt only as if someone had slammed a door in her face, slammed it violently after having first led her through it to see and taste of the wonders on the other side. Lowering her head onto her hands, she wept.
Brett just kept walking, not noticing where
he was going, but found that he had headed instinctively for the river. There were tourists strolling along, lovers holding hands, but he avoided them and leaned on the parapet, gazing unseeingly down at the lights reflected in the fast-flowing water. It occurred to him that he had gone to Tasha's flat today feeling better than he had done for years, certain that everything was going his way. He would tell her about the surprise he had for her, she would agree to the plan he had for the series on the sexual exploitation theme, and then they would go to bed together and make love.
He had thought about that so many times while he'd been away, his imagination heightened because he now knew every inch of her perfect body. In his mind he could hear her gasps of pleasure, even his own groans of overwhelming excitement. He had thrilled with anticipation as he thought about what he would do to her, how he would love her. But now… Sitting down on a bench, he put his head in his hands.
Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined this happening, especially not with Tasha. He began to think about what he knew or had heard about fatherhood: nights when you never got any sleep, smelly nappies, never being able to go out unless everything was planned weeks in advance. He remembered friends telling him bitterly of wives who suddenly lost interest in sex once they had a child, who were always too tired to make love. God, it sounded terrible! He saw his whole world changing, his freedom lost. He looked ahead, a bleak vision of the future coming into his mind. But then the vision changed a little and, slowly, his eyes widened and his gaze became transfixed. Brett let out a long sigh, turned, and began to stride quickly along the street.
Tasha had put on a CD but it had stopped playing long since. There were still only the lamps burning, but in a burst of rage she had flung open the window to get rid of the perfume that still hung in the air. Sarah had made her promise to call her, to let her know what had happened, but Tasha made no effort to do so. Her spirits were too low, too devastated for her to gloat with Sarah over the success of the trick she'd played. She was lying on the settee, leaning back against its arm, gazing up at the ceiling, wondering how the hell she always managed to mess up her life. It was men, she decided, without men life would be a doddle, a breeze. For a few months she had put her trust in a man and life had been good, but now she was back where she always seemed to be, walking that long, long corridor on her own, passing doors which this time she would certainly not even glance at let alone try and open.
She was so deep in her thoughts that she didn't hear Brett come up the stairs, didn't even realise he was there until he stood beside her. Tasha's eyes widened, but her voice was harsh as she said, 'What do you want?'
'To talk.' Squatting down, he took hold of her hand. 'I didn't walk out on you, if that's what you're thinking. I just needed some time and space to think. What you told me came as quite a shock.'
Taking her hand from his, Tasha swung her legs to the ground and folded her arms tightly across her chest. 'So?'
'So I want to know what you think about this. Whether you've decided what you want to do.'
'What do you think I ought to do?' she asked suspiciously.
'Well, I don't want to influence you in any way, but I—'
'Rubbish!' Pushing him aside, Tasha got to her feet and turned angrily to face him as he too rose. 'You've come back to persuade me to have an abortion.'
'I didn't say that. What I—'
'You didn't have to say it. The way you ran out of here—it was pathetic! You're just another man who grabs everything he can get from a woman and then takes off at the first hint of trouble. Oh, everything was fine when you finally persuaded me to have sex with you. You couldn't get enough of me then, could you? How many times a day was it? Or did you lose count? You certainly—'
Taking a swift step towards her, Brett said, 'Tasha, please stop this. I know you have a right to feel bitter but I—'
'Yes, I do damn well have the right,' she said angrily, thinking of her precious notes.
'Look, I'm sorry. I know I should have stayed, but I'm here now. Can't we talk? And before you say anything else, I want you to know that we'll do whatever you want in this. If you want to keep the baby, then that's fine by me.'
Tasha's eyes widened. 'Do you mean it?'
'Yes.' His voice was firm, but then a rueful look came into Brett's eyes. 'Though I have absolutely no idea what kind of a father I'll make.'
Tasha looked at him uncertainly, momentarily taken aback, but then an unwelcome suspicion came into her mind as she remembered that he still needed to use her material. So, playing for time, waiting for him to give himself away, she said, 'You would want to play a role in its life, then?'
'Of course.' Brett raised his eyebrows. 'You weren't expecting me to do anything else, were you?'
'I don't know. I don't know what to expect from you.' Looking at him, seeing the earnestness in his face, she couldn't believe he was the same man who had run away from the problem just hours earlier. Full of cynicism, she said, 'How—big a part do you want to play?' There was irony in her voice because Tasha didn't believe him. She was now convinced he really was playing a part, pretending to go along with her until he got what he wanted, when he would turn round and walk out again.
He gave a small shrug. 'The same as all fathers do, I suppose.' Crossing to her, he put his hands on her shoulders and looked down into her face. Smiling, he said, 'I see I have to spell it out to you. Which is understandable, I know.' His voice firm and earnest, he said, 'Yes, I do think that what's happened is wonderful, and I very much want to share it with you. I also happen to think that you are a very incredible woman, and there is no one I could possibly have chosen that I would rather have for the mother of my child.' His hands tightened a little and a look of deep tenderness came into his eyes. 'I've said that we will do whatever you want, but I very much hope that we'll set up home together as we planned.' He paused, then added deliberately, 'I want you to be happy, I want that more than anything in the world, and I very much hope that you'll marry me.'
Tasha's amazing eyes widened incredulously. 'Marry you?'
A rueful look came into his face at her astonishment. 'That is what I said.'
For a long moment she continued to stare at him, but then pushed him agitatedly away. 'That—that isn't necessary.'
'No one said it was. But it's what I want. I want it very much. And not just because of the baby, Tasha, but because I love you. I think I always have, from the moment I saw you dancing at Guy's party. You fascinated me then, and you grow more fascinating every minute.'
Whatever she had expected it certainly wasn't this. Her mouth had dropped open and Brett laughed a little as he bent to gently touch her lips with his.
'Is it so amazing?'
'Yes,' Tasha answered baldly. She had never expected him to go to these lengths. For a moment she was filled with doubt; could she possibly be wrong about him? Did he really mean it? But then she remembered his lies and the article and she grew hopelessly confused again. 'Marriage isn't an option,' she said shortly.
'Isn't it? Why not?'
'It's old-fashioned. Dated. No one needs to get married nowadays.'
'Not even if they're in love? Not even if they want to spend the rest of their lives together? Not even if they have a family?'
'No! That way you don't have the bother of a divorce when you split up.'
There was amusement in his eyes and he wasn't taking her seriously. 'What makes you think we might split up?'
'Everybody splits up, sooner or later.'
'No, they don't.' He tried to put his arms round her but she moved away. 'We'll be the exception. We have everything going for us, Tasha. We're good together.'
'The sex is good, you mean,' she said mockingly.
'Yes, it is,' Brett said evenly. 'But just being together is wonderful too. You know I want to be with you; I asked you to move in with me before. We make a good team.'
'Oh, really?'
Hearing the bitterness in her voice, Brett said, 'What is it, Tasha? Ar
e you angry with me for making you pregnant?'
Her eyes went to his face. 'Perhaps.'
'It takes two, you know,' he pointed out evenly.
'You're blaming me.'
'It isn't a question of blame.' Brett said it as though he meant it, although inwardly he felt the innocent party in all this. 'It's happened. Maybe it was meant to be. I'm certainly very pleased about it now. I thought that you were too. I hope you are.' She looked away, wouldn't meet his eyes, so he added, 'I meant what I said, darling. I do love you. And I know that we'll be happy together.'
'You made me tell you I loved you; I didn't say it of my own free will.'
'I know that. But I think you do.'
'Why?' There was a jeering note in her voice.
Brett frowned, not understanding, but said, 'You said I was special.'
Ignoring that, Tasha said, 'And I didn't say I'd move in with you.'
Frowning again a little, he said, 'I thought that had been all agreed before we left Cornwall.'
'No. You said it was what you wanted; I didn't say I definitely would.'
He didn't agree with her, just said, 'Well, OK, but it would be the practical thing to do, wouldn't it?'
'And I certainly haven't said that I'll marry you.'
With a smile, Brett said, 'But you haven't said that you won't.'
She looked at him, thinking that this was all wrong, he hadn't been supposed to react like this. Abruptly, she said, 'I'd like you to go.'
'Without an answer?'
'You said that I gave you a shock and you had to go away and think about it. Well, you've given me an equal shock and now it's my turn to want to think.'
He nodded. 'Fair enough. But there is one thing I'd like to be sure of, Tasha; you do intend to keep this baby, don't you?'
Her mouth thinned. 'Why, is your proposal dependent on my having it?'
'No. I want to marry you whatever you decide.' He gave a grin, almost as if he was surprised at himself. 'But the idea of fatherhood is growing on me by the minute.'
Tasha flushed and lowered her eyes, not knowing what to believe, but then she raised her head and said with irony, 'I promise you, you'll be the first to know.'
Sally Wentworth - A Typical Male Page 13
