by Maggie Cox
God, but she was beautiful when she was angry. Staring at his wife with all the intense concentration of a child gazing through a sweet-shop window, Mac endeavoured to get his rapid breathing under control. No matter how much he desired her, he thought fiercely, no matter how many ice-cold showers he had to endure over the next couple of months—it would be a small price to pay for him to know that Tara was absolutely healthy and out of any potential danger. No matter how persuasive her arguments—and he thrilled to the fact that she seemed to desire him as much as he did her—he wouldn’t jeopardise the baby just because he couldn’t keep his lust under control. This wasn’t a first pregnancy for Tara. Her first one had ended in the worst tragedy a mother could imagine. It was fine that the doctors had reassured her that the likelihood of it happening twice was rare indeed, but even a half-percent chance that it could happen again was greater odds than Mac wanted to contemplate.
‘We both have to be sensible, Tara…that’s all I’m saying. Now, if you don’t want tea, how about a drive over to Beth’s to see how she’s doing? I don’t like the idea of her being on her own in the shop in a wheelchair. I know Peter Trent said he’d keep an eye on things but I’m sure she could use some familiar company, aren’t you?’
Swallowing down her frustration, Tara swept past her husband to the door. ‘I just hate it when you’re so damned thoughtful and reasonable!’ she uttered and Mac heard her stomp up the stairs as if it was his head she’d like to be stomping on. Shaking his head with amusement, he mused in wonder at the complexities of living with a woman ruled by her hormones and decided that—apart from making love—the experience was the most fun he’d had in a very long time.
‘He’s been such a sweetie, I can’t tell you.’ Beth sipped her scented cup of Earl Grey tea, her smile guarded as she viewed them both across her desk, her gaze occasionally meandering distractedly out the window to the bookshop across the road. A small spurt of amazement made Tara lift her brows and look searchingly at Mac. He merely grinned and shrugged those powerful shoulders of his as if to say ‘your guess is as good as mine.’
‘We are talking about Peter Trent here? “Mr-boring-head-in-a-book-needing-a-personality-transplant wouldn’t-look-twice-if-a-woman-walked-into-his-shop-naked”? Your words, not mine, let me hasten to remind you.’
Blushing as delicately as a young girl, Beth placed her cup carefully in its decorative porcelain saucer and noisily cleared her throat. ‘Did I say that? Just goes to show, one should never judge a book by its cover—if you’ll pardon the pun. Anyway, let’s just say we had the opportunity to get to know each other a little better during his visits to the hospital. I don’t mind being the first to confess that I grossly misjudged the man. We’ve got quite a lot in common, if you really want to know…we like the same kind of films, we both love the theatre and of course the ballet—and we share a love of Thai cuisine. In fact, tomorrow evening Peter is taking me out to my favourite Thai restaurant in St Edmunds for dinner—so the pair of you can stop worrying unnecessarily about me and get on with your own lives. Peter’s just across the road and he checks in regularly to see if I need anything.’
‘Are you sure you’re ready to go out? You’ve not long got out of hospital.’ Glancing doubtfully at the thick plaster cast peeping out from beneath her aunt’s mid-calf-length dress, Tara had her reservations.
‘Peter says we shall manage quite nicely. If you can come over about an hour beforehand and help me into my best frock, I’ll be absolutely fine.’
‘Of course I’ll come and help you.’
‘Good. That’s settled, then.’
‘Well, great. That’s great, Beth. But if you should need anything in the meantime, anything at all—you know where we are.’ If uncertainty crept into her voice, Tara couldn’t help it. Things seemed to be changing so fast—things that a mere month ago she could never have dreamed. A girl needed a little time to acclimatise at least.
‘I notice you’re using the term “we” quite a lot.’ Beth’s eyes twinkled. ‘Do I take it all’s well in the Simmonsen household?’
‘Apart from Mac fussing over me like a mother hen, you mean?’ Endeavouring to sound nonchalant, Tara nevertheless slid her gaze tenderly across to Mac as he stood beside her. As he grinned back at her, she felt that familiar ‘where’s my parachute?’ drop in her stomach when his electric blue eyes collided warmly with hers.
‘I’m glad to hear it. That’s just what every mother-to-be needs—a good man.’ She looked pointedly at Mac and a kind of unspoken agreement flowed between them that Tara wasn’t privy to. ‘Don’t complain, darling. And by the way, I hope you’re taking all your vitamins and things and eating sensibly. Is she, Mac?’
‘You know that old saying? You can lead a horse to water but you can’t make it drink? I think that just about sums up the current situation.’ Smoothing back a drifting strand of gold from his forehead, he smiled wryly at both women.
‘I know she can be terrifically stubborn when she wants to be,’ Beth remarked fondly. ‘But now the baby’s coming I think she’ll agree she needs to be sensible.’
Tara grimaced. ‘Sensible? Do you know how much I’m beginning to loathe that word? I’m going to have a baby—not join a nunnery!’
‘Amen to that.’ Absorbing his wife’s indignant glare, Mac was gratified that he had a strong ally in her aunt. Maybe between the two of them they could get Tara to see that they were only acting in her best interests? Stealing a glance at her peeved expression, he could see they were seriously going to have their work cut out.
CHAPTER TWELVE
‘STOP scowling at me! You know it will give you major wrinkles when you’re older? Come on and dance. I haven’t dragged you up to town to spend the night propping up the bar.’
‘I should never have listened to you,’ Raj replied, his expression strained as he surveyed the packed dance floor in the club. ‘Sometimes you persuade me to act against my better judgement and this is definitely one of those times. What’s your husband going to think when I drop you home later?’
Squashing down the niggling spurt of anxiety that had been dogging her ever since she’d got the notion to ask Raj to take her dancing, Tara tossed her head dismissively, telling herself that Mac would just have to like it or lump it because she wasn’t going to curtail her very normal and natural impulses for anybody. OK, so she’d taken the coward’s way out and told him she was popping round a friend’s for a girly night in, watching a video or two. But sometimes a woman had to do what a woman had to do, and the mood Mac had been in lately he would only read her the Riot Act—especially if he found out she’d gone out with Raj. It didn’t matter that their friendship was strictly on the level. Mac simply didn’t believe that men and women could just be friends.
‘Why don’t you just let me worry about Mac?’ Pulling him to his feet, Tara urged Raj onto the dance floor. As the compulsive bass of one of the latest dance records throbbed loudly around the room, she surrendered to her need to move her body, conveniently banishing anything else to the far regions of her mind.
Raj switched off the car engine then swivelled in his seat to look at Tara. She’d slept pretty much most of the way home, snuggled up in the passenger seat beside him like a child, her soft blonde hair mussed and the skirt of her short black embroidered dress crinkled mid-thigh. Not for the first time Raj noticed that she had very good legs—the kind of legs that could make a man seriously hot under the collar. Without a doubt she’d been the prettiest girl at the club, eliciting a fiercely protective feeling in him whenever he spied an interested male homing in. Sighing deeply, he had to admit he was more than a little jealous of Mac. Perhaps that was why he had gone against his own better judgement and agreed to take her out tonight without her husband’s knowledge? His father, Sanjay, would kill him if he ever found out, but not before his mother’s fierce tirade burst his eardrums.
‘Tara? Tara, wake up! We’re home.’ He shook her a little desperately, his heart racing when she
peeled open those mesmerising, long-lashed green eyes and smiled.
‘Hmm.’ Stretching and yawning at the same time, she manoeuvred herself upright, peering through the windscreen at the large red-bricked house at the end of the gravel drive, Mac’s gleaming sedan parked sedately outside. Anxiety settled like a bowling ball in the pit of her stomach. Now she was for it. Unless, of course, Mac had gone to bed and was hopefully sound asleep. Yeah, and Queen Elizabeth would abdicate tomorrow…
‘Thank you, Raj. I had the best time. You are an angel.’ Leaning towards him, she gave him a generous peck on the cheek.
Her companion retreated as if he’d been stung. ‘Don’t do that! Your husband might see.’ He craned his neck to see if Mac was looking out of one of several leaded windows. The house was large and impressive—the kind of house that he intended to have one day for himself and his new wife.
‘What’s to see?’ she asked, shrugging. ‘He knows we’re only friends.’
‘Sometimes, Tara, you take too much for granted.’ Beneath his smooth dark skin, heat shaded Raj’s jaw.
‘What? You’re saying you’re not my friend?’
‘Don’t twist my words!’ Clearly frustrated, he slammed the centre of the steering wheel with the flat of his hand. ‘What I’m saying is you make too familiar with me sometimes. I’m only a man when all is said and done and you’re an extremely attractive woman. Such familiarity can lead to dangerous situations if people aren’t careful.’
She knew what he was saying and even felt slightly ashamed that she had put him in a potentially compromising position, but first of all she heard his clear admonishment for restraint and she saw red. It had been over a week now since her husband had made love to her and sexual frustration and pure driving need for more intimate contact was slowly driving her round the bend. Now her best friend and supposed ally was suggesting even more self-control. Tara decided she just couldn’t handle any of it.
‘You know something, Raj? Sometimes in life you just have to take risks. Would Ellen MacArthur have sailed solo round the globe if she’d been “careful”? Would Edmund Hillary have got to the top of Mount Everest? Would I be having another baby with Mac if I didn’t risk my heart and my pride? Think about it. Thanks for bringing me home. I’ll be seeing you.’
Standing outside the oak front door, Tara waved as Raj pulled away and drove through the black and gold railings back onto the road, her mouth dry and trepidation knotting her spine. It was one thing being bold on a whim—quite another facing the consequences of that boldness. Especially when she now had deep reservations about her actions. Mac was only trying to do what was best for her. He wasn’t deliberately trying to make life difficult because he suggested she slow down a little. He was thinking about her and the baby. The least he deserved was the truth about where she’d been. ‘So much for bravado.’ Muttering disparagingly to herself, she slid her key into the lock and let herself in.
The house was in silence except for the comforting tick of the Victorian mantel clock that Beth had given them as a housewarming present emanating from the front room. Leaving her purse on a handy side-table, Tara kicked off her shoes, deposited her coat on the staircase balustrade then ventured slowly towards the sound.
‘So you finally decided to come home?’
His deceptively velvet tones announced Mac’s presence as surely as if someone had come up to her and rung a bell in her ear. Heart thudding, Tara threaded her fingers through her already tousled fringe, staring in shocked disbelief at his seated figure in one of the winged armchairs by the fireplace. Back-lit by the glowing embers of the fire, his skin appeared almost golden, his eyes a spellbindingly sapphire blue. He was dressed in faded blue denims and a dove-grey T-shirt that highlighted the steely cords of muscle in his biceps; he looked arrogantly, fiercely male, and Tara couldn’t prevent the small shiver of purely female appreciation that slipped like golden syrup down her spine.
‘You didn’t have to wait up.’ Was that her voice? Or had Minnie Mouse taken possession of her vocal cords?
‘No?’ Rising to his feet, he stood in front of the fire, jeans riding low on his lean, tight hips, expression inexorably austere. ‘Tell me…did you have a good time with your…friend?’
Her aching feet could easily attest to that, Tara thought, grimacing. She’d all but danced her legs off. Even Raj had complained she’d hardly sat down all night. But that was what music did for her: it touched her soul, made her want to move to its beat—once a dancer, always a dancer. ‘Yeah, I had a good time. But now I’m tired, so if you don’t mind I think I’ll go to bed.’
‘Not so fast.’
As she moved towards the door Mac sprung like a panther, reaching her in an instant, his hand locking onto her arm and spinning her back round. ‘Tell me where you really were, Tara, because I know damn well you didn’t wear that dress to spend the evening in front of a girlfriend’s TV, watching videos.’
If he had seen the dress before she’d left Tara would never have left the house. As it was she’d had the foresight to slip on her long black coat when she’d bid him goodbye for the evening.
Knowing lying wasn’t an option and despising herself for even considering it, she pulled angrily at her captive arm, scowling fiercely at Mac when he wouldn’t let go. ‘I don’t know why you’re making such a big deal out of this! I was with Raj, OK? My friend. Since I’ve become pregnant you won’t let me do a damn thing and I’ve had all this pent-up energy I didn’t know what to do with so I asked Raj to take me to London to a nightclub. All I wanted to do was listen to some music and dance. Is that such a crime?’
‘You lied to me.’
‘Not deliberately. I just didn’t want you to get upset.’
‘And I’m not upset now?’ His question was remarkably restrained, considering the muscle that ticked in his jaw. Tara wasn’t so foolish as to underestimate him. She knew underneath that deceptively calm façade he was seething…and rightly so.
‘I can see you’re not happy.’ Her arm was tingling where he held it—little sparks of electricity shooting into her bloodstream, making her feel slightly giddy. Blast! What a time to feel aroused.
‘Damn right I’m not happy. You’re pregnant, Tara. You need to take care of yourself, to rest. Going to a nightclub and dancing the night away flouts everything the doctor said about taking things easier. Just what the devil got into you? And to get another man to take you… What the hell did he think he was playing at?’ Her ‘friend,’ she’d called him, and Mac’s heart had gone wild with jealousy. What exactly did that mean? He didn’t care if it was true the guy had some arranged marriage in India—if he had testosterone pumping through his veins he had every chance of being attracted to Tara. In that sexy little black dress she was wearing with its generous V-neck front and back, the woman looked like an angelic blonde siren. The man who didn’t find her appealing would have to be dead.
‘Don’t go blaming Raj.’
‘You seem pretty eager to jump to his defence. No man in his right mind would even contemplate taking another man’s wife out dancing without his knowledge! Does your “friendship” extend to sharing his bed? Or maybe you made out in the car? Answer me, Tara! I want to know.’
She went very quiet. Inside her mind was racing. ‘I don’t believe you just said that. How can you turn something so innocent into something so…so dirty? I despise you for that!’
‘You don’t wriggle out of it so easily,’ he replied, voice deadly calm. ‘Answer the question.’
The force of her emotions made her tremble. ‘No! I do not sleep—and have never slept—with Raj Singh! I’m the fool who’s been celibate for five years—I know for a fact you can’t attest to the same self-restraint! But this isn’t about blaming and accusations, is it, Mac? This is about trust—or lack of it. I’ve trusted you enough to move in with you again, to believe we can have a real marriage. How can we ever expect to achieve that when you clearly don’t even trust me to leave the house on my own? And to
even entertain such a crass notion as Raj and me sleeping together! Didn’t you hear what I said about him being engaged to be married? It all points to the fact that you don’t even trust me to take care of myself! You’ve been treating me like a child since I told you about the baby. Do you really believe I’d do something reckless that might endanger this pregnancy? I know how to take care of things, Mac. What do you think I’ve been doing for the past five years? Did you think I’d just stop living because you walked out the door? My life may not seem terribly exciting to you but I’m the one who makes the choices in it. I’m a grown woman—not a little girl.’
A muscle pulsed in the side of Mac’s temple. Registering her passionate words, he knew he’d made a gross error. She’d never given him the slightest reason to mistrust her. The Tara he knew had always been delightfully open and honest—even if sometimes he didn’t like hearing what she had to say because he knew it reflected badly on him. The fact that she’d lied to him tonight about where she was going must mean he’d pushed her into such a corner that she’d had no alternative but to act as she did.
‘Raj only took me because I begged him. If dancing makes me happy, how can it hurt anything? It’s part of who I am, Mac. Would you want me to change that? I can’t just sit at home and play the little woman. I did that to some extent the first time round, sitting at home night after night—giving up my social life in deference to your work. I don’t intend to do that a second time. I have to burn off some of this excess energy some way.’
