by Anne Mather
Even so, the temptation was almost irresistible. To speak to him again, maybe even see him again. She wanted to so badly. Could she deprive herself of one last chance?
Yet remembering the last time they had spoken together, she felt her spirits plummet. What was the point of contacting Jake? He had made his feelings blatantly clear. All he had wanted from her was her body, an instrument on which to expunge all his pain and frustration. He didn’t love her. She doubted he had ever loved anyone, other than his small daughter, and Elizabeth’s defection had destroyed all human feeling inside him. He was not a man, he was a shell, a battle-scarred shell, without spirit or substance.
Nevertheless, argued her conscience, he deserved to be told where his daughter was. It was unfair and inhuman of her to keep such information from him, and no doubt he would arrange to take the child home with him. If he let Anya spend the night here, she could arrange with him to send the child over in a taxi in the morning, and she need not suffer the condemning censure of his impatience at the little girl’s disobedience.
With this upholding thought in mind, she dialled the digits Marcia had given her and waited apprehensively for him to answer. The purring buzz went on for several minutes before she realised she was wasting her time, that he was out, and with a feeling of intense and unreasonable disappointment she put down the receiver.
His absence from the fiat promoted the uneasy speculation as to where he might be. Had he managed to find another governess? Was he even at this moment entertaining some young woman to dinner, and assessing her ability at the same time? But no! Marcia had said he avoided hotels, and he was hardly likely to invite some strange woman, young or old, to eat dinner with him. Then where was he? And why did she feel this ridiculous sense of betrayal, when she had no earthly reason to expect his fidelity?
When the doorbell rang about half an hour later, she was already sunk in gloom, and even the possibility that as she was expecting no visitors it could be an intruder aroused no sense of alarm inside her. It was probably someone looking for one of the other flats, she thought wearily, dragging herself into the hall, and then sucked in her breath in astonishment and disbelief when she found Jake on the doorstep. He had filled her thoughts so completely a few minutes ago that she could not at first take in the realisation that he was actually here, and she gazed at him openmouthed, clinging to the door like a raft for survival.
‘I understand Anya’s here,’ he said, when she made no move to speak to him or invite him in, and she nodded almost blankly. ‘I’d like to see her if I may. I’m sorry she’s troubled you, and naturally I’ll pay for any inconvenience she’s caused. If—if you’ll just show me where she is, I’ll take her off your hands.’
‘Oh, Jake!’
It was too much. After the emotional trauma she had been through, Joanna’s composure just crumbled, and with a mute nod of her head she turned away and stumbled back into the living room.
She heard the outer door close and presently Jake’s cushioned tread as he traversed the hall carpet and entered the living room behind her. She guessed he was looking about him, absorbing his surroundings, but she remained where she was, by the window, dislodging the curtain as if intent on some object outside the lamplit-room.
‘Where is she?’
Jake’s question was not unexpected, and stifling a sniff with the back of her hand, she answered him in a low husky voice. ‘She—she’s asleep,’ she said, anticipating his disapproval. ‘She was exhausted. I—I fed her and put her to bed.’
‘I see.’
There was silence, and realising she was obliged to be civil to him, she turned, schooling the muscles of her face not to reveal how much his presence disturbed her. It was only then that she noticed how haggard he looked, the dark planes of his face hollowed and weary. He did not look like a man who had just rid himself of a particularly annoying employee, and she guessed Anya’s running away had affected him more than he thought. He had evidently shaved in a hurry before coming here, and there were little bloody scars on his chin, but his linen was immaculate, and the dark lounge suit had obviously been made by a master hand. He looked the same, and yet different, more sophisticated, and yet more vulnerable, and in spite of her resentment of his heartless approach, her own emotions were less controllable.
‘How—how are you?’ she asked, clutching at the banal utterance, in an effort to normalise the situation, but he merely ran probing fingers round the inside of his collar and glanced about with evident impatience.
‘I’m all right,’ he said shortly, and gaining a little confidence from his unease, she gestured towards the tray of drinks her mother had left on a nearby cabinet.
‘Can I offer you a drink, then? Scotch, gin—coffee?’
‘I don’t want anything.’ He moved his shoulders irritably. ‘Thank you.’
Joanna’s tongue circled her lips. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Oh, God, Joanna! This isn’t a social call! I came because Marcia rang and told me Anya was here. Now you tell me she’s in bed—asleep!’ His sigh was heavy. ‘I suppose I’d better go and come back in the morning.’
Joanna’s stomach tightened convulsively. ‘I—er—don’t you think we ought to talk?’
‘Talk?’ He was wary.
‘Yes, talk.’ Joanna moved to the couch and determinedly seated herself on its edge. ‘Won’t you sit down?’
Jake remained where he was, and wishing she was wearing something a little more feminine than a denim shirt and matching jeans, Joanna endeavoured to hide her trepidation.
‘Did you—that is—have you found another governess for Anya?’
He was silent for so long that her courage almost completely deserted her. Then, almost grudgingly, he said: ‘No.’ He paused. ‘Why?’
Joanna took an uneven breath. ‘But you—that is why you’re in London, isn’t it?’
‘Who told you that?’
‘Marcia—that is, your sister, told me you——’
‘I thought you didn’t know Marcia.’
‘I didn’t.’ Joanna sighed. ‘I met her the first night I got back. I had dinner with Aunt Lydia, and she was there.’
‘And when did she tell you I was in London?’ His eyes darkened. ‘Was it your idea or hers that Anya should come here?’
Joanna gasped. ‘It was no one’s idea! And—and she didn’t tell me you were in London. At least, not until I rang her this evening and explained what had happened.’
‘Really?’ He was sceptical.
‘It’s true.’ Joanna got to her feet then, unable to sit beneath his contemptuous gaze. ‘You don’t imagine your sister and I have got to know one another that well in so short a space of time?’
‘How do I know how long you’ve known her?’
‘Because I don’t tell lies!’ declared Joanna indignantly.
‘So Anya suddenly took it into her head to come looking for you?’
‘Yes.’ Joanna clenched her fists. ‘You don’t suppose we contrived this? That Anya should make that dangerous journey alone! In God’s name, what kind of a father are you?’
His face twisted. ‘An indifferent one, obviously,’ he muttered, long fingers massaging the nape of his neck. ‘I didn’t even know Anya knew where I had gone.’
‘She didn’t.’ Joanna hesitated, and then went on half reluctantly: ‘She came to ask me to go back with her. That’s all. She’ll be as shocked as I was when she learns you’re here.’
‘Will she?’
‘Of course.’ Joanna glanced helplessly about her. ‘Jake, why don’t you sit down and let us discuss this like civilised people——’
‘Because I don’t feel very civilised,’ he snapped, tawny eyes glittering in his ravaged features. ‘Joanna, I’m grateful to you for what you’ve done for Anya, but there’s no chance of my taking you back to Ravengarth, no chance at all!’
Joanna felt as if he had hit her. It wasn’t so much that the blow was unexpected, rather that it was delivered with such vehemence.
She had not known he disliked her quite so much, and the whole bottom seemed to drop out of her world.
Struggling to retain some semblance of self-possession, she sank down on to the couch again, realising her legs were unlikely to support her much longer. All she wanted now was for Jake to go, to leave her to her misery, and she hoped he would not prolong this one-sided combat.
‘Joanna …’ Almost inaudibly, her name came to her ears, and she forced herself to look up at him one last time.
‘Yes?’ she gulped, her voice breaking as she spoke, and with a groan of anguish he came down on his haunches beside her, grasping her hands in his and burying his face in her palms.
It was unbelievable that he should be doing this, that it should be Jake’s dark head bent at her knee, and she trembled violently in the grip of emotions long suppressed. She couldn’t move or respond. She just sat there, looking down at him, rapidly coming to the conclusion that she was hallucinating.
‘Oh, Joanna …’
There was that tormented cry again, and she blinked nervously as he lifted his head and impaled her with his smouldering gaze.
‘Jake …’ she began shakily, and then the probing pressure of his mouth smothered the rest of her uncertain speech.
He held her face between his hands so that there was no chance of her escaping him, even had she wanted to. Long fingers probed the hollows of her ears, finding areas of erotic sensitivity, and his lips moulded hers, stroking them apart and invading the moist sweetness within.
Darkness overwhelmed her, and her limbs melted beneath the passionate hunger of his kiss. She was drowning in deep, sensual feeling, and her hands groped for him in eager surrender. His searching mouth made her blood run like fire along her veins, and her inflamed senses aroused a strong sexual awareness that struggled for expression.
The pressure of his thigh against hers made her realise he was on the couch beside her, and hardly aware of what she was doing, she pushed his jacket off his shoulders. It was an instinctive thing, a need to get closer to him, and Jake was too bemused by the responsive softness of her lips to resist her. He slid his arms out of the jacket and allowed it to fall unheeded to the floor, and then pressed her back against the cushions, allowing the whole weight of his body to imprison her.
‘Do you know what you’re doing?’ he groaned, parting the lapels of her shirt and exposing the rose-tipped peaks of her breasts to his hungry gaze. ‘Joanna, this wasn’t what I intended when I came here.’
‘Wasn’t it?’ She unbuttoned the collar of his shirt with eager familiarity. ‘But you don’t mind, do you?’ Her tongue appeared in sudden anxiety. ‘You’re not going to send me away again?’
‘Send you away——’ Jake closed his eyes for a moment and then opened them again to absorb the yielding beauty of her body. ‘Joanna, Joanna, I have to tell you. I lied to you …’
Her brows descended briefly. ‘Lied to me?’
‘Yes. Oh, yes.’ Unable to resist, he bent his head and allowed his tongue to coax her tender nipples to hardness. ‘Oh, God, Joanna, I can’t let you do this——’
He would have drawn away then, but her arms were suddenly tight around his neck, and her eyes were wide and determined as they gazed up at him.
‘You can’t stop me,’ she exclaimed, resisting his attempts to release himself. ‘Jake, what is it? Why are you doing this? What’s wrong with me?’
He slumped then, almost knocking the breath out of her as he relaxed on top of her, burying his face in the soft warmth of her neck and cupping her rounded breast with undeniably possessive fingers.
‘There’s nothing wrong with you,’ he muttered heavily. ‘Nothing at all. It’s me. Me! And you know it. How can I—a useless hulk of human refuse—ask you to share my life and my inadequacies? It would be wild enough if I was whole—if I had something to offer you. But I’m not, and I’m too old into the bargain, with a daughter that most women would find daunting in the first place.’
‘Oh, Jake …’ Joanna’s anxieties dissolved into weak relief. ‘Jake, don’t be a fool! You know I love you——’
‘I know you’re infatuated by the idea,’ he retorted harshly. ‘You probably see yourself as Jane Eyre to my Rochester, but life’s not like that.’
Joanna’s laughter was soft and tremulous. ‘Darling, I don’t see you as Mr Rochester at all. And I’m no heroine, as you once pointed out. Why do you find it so hard to believe that I love you for what you are, not for what you might be? Believe it or not, I wouldn’t want you any other way.’
Jake levered himself up on his elbow. ‘You’re crazy——’
‘Do you mind?’
He shook his head. ‘I can’t let you do this. Not yet, at any rate.’
She frowned. ‘What do you mean—not yet?’
He sighed, allowing his fingers to play with a strand of her silky hair. ‘You haven’t asked how I lied to you?’
‘Then tell me.’
He hesitated. ‘It’s not easy.’
‘Why not?’ Concern darkened her eyes again. ‘You’re not ill, are you? Oh, Jake, you didn’t come to London to see doctors!’
‘Calm down, relax …’ He soothed her anxious expression with gentle fingers, and she caught his hand and drew it to her mouth. It was a sensuous arousal, and he was not immune to it, and with a helpless groan he sought her lips with his. They opened beneath his caress, inviting the intimacy he had taught her, and the urgency of her response drove him to the limits of his endurance. ‘I want you,’ he murmured huskily, his breathing as laboured as hers was, ‘but first of all we have to talk, and you’re not making it easy.’
Joanna allowed him to draw back from her, but only to the length of her arm away, and with determination he released her lingering fingers. ‘Listen to me,’ he said, putting tender fingers over her lips, ‘I didn’t come to London to find a new governess, and I didn’t come to have medical treatment either. However, I have seen doctors, I’m not denying that,’ and silencing her instinctive reaction, he went on: ‘but only to find out exactly how serious my mental block was.’
Joanna moved her head in a helpless gesture, and eventually succeeded in removing his hand. ‘I’ve told you,’ she protested, ‘it doesn’t matter!’ but Jake assured her firmly that it did matter to him.
‘So what did they say?’ she asked at last, when it became obvious he was adamant, and he shrugged his shoulders with characteristic scepticism.
‘They told me I’m cured, as cured as I’ll ever be, I guess. The fact is, that isn’t good enough.’
‘Jake——’ Joanna’s face was perplexed, but once again he silenced her.
‘Let’s start at the beginning, shall we?’ he suggested, drawing the folds of her shirt about her, as if unable to concentrate while her silky flesh was enticing him. ‘I came because I had to know the worst, I had to assure myself that there really was no hope, and I guess you could say I wasn’t disappointed.’
Joanna felt bereft when he drew back from her, lounging on the couch beside her, his expression growing more remote as he told her what had happened.
‘They were very kind. They even suggested I go and see Gordon Blakeney, but they were wasting my time and theirs.’
Joanna shook her head. ‘Who is Gordon Blakeney?’
‘Blakeney?’ Jake looked sideways at her. ‘You’ve heard of Blakeney Electronics, haven’t you?’
‘You mean—they were the people who used to employ you.’
‘That’s right.’
‘And—you went to see him?’
Jake nodded. ‘I did.’
‘And?’
He shook his head. ‘What do you think?’
‘You couldn’t get your old job back again.’
His laugh was cynical. ‘Oh, Joanna! If only it were that simple.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘Nor do I. That’s the trouble!’
At last she began to see what he was getting at. ‘You mean—you couldn’t cope with the mec
hanics of it?’
‘Mechanics?’ He gave her a wry look. ‘We’re not talking about mechanics, Joanna. We’re talking about electronics. Gordon—he gave me a circuit layout of a new calculator they’re designing, and you know what? It was like Greek to me!’ He shook his head. ‘Greek!’
‘Does it matter?’
She looked at him appealingly, and he had to drag his eyes away from the yielding temptation she represented. ‘It matters to me,’ he said violently. ‘It matters to me.’
‘Why?’
‘Why?’ He was forced to look at her then. ‘Joanna, don’t make this any harder. I have little enough to offer you, God knows, but I thought, if I could take up my work, be able to offer you a decent home, a decent standard of living——’
Joanna stared at him. ‘You mean—you mean you came down to London because of me? Because you wanted to prove yourself to me!’
‘Haven’t I just said so?’ he muttered heavily. ‘God knows, I tried not to think about you, but after you’d gone, I thought I was going out of my mind!’
Joanna shook her head. ‘You really came here because of me?’
Jake bent his head. ‘What do you want me to do? Draw you a picture?’
‘No!’ Joanna was near to tears. ‘Just—just tell me that you love me. That’s the only thing that matters.’
Jake’s eyes lingered on the tremulous curve of her mouth. ‘You know I love you,’ he said, though the words were dragged from him. ‘Why the hell else did I send you away?’ Joanna pushed herself towards him, pressing her face into the muscular expanse of his chest, fingers probing the buttons of his shirt. ‘That’s not a good enough reason for me,’ she exclaimed, sniffing uncontrollably. ‘Oh, Jake, I won’t let you ruin both our lives, just for the sake of a stupid micro-circuit! If we have to live in a barn, I don’t care just so long as it’s with you, so stop killing yourself and me by being so—so stubborn!’
