The Vengance Affair

by Carole Mortimer

  'Hey?' Beau was looking at her questioningly now. 'This sort of thing happens all the time,' he dismissed disinterestedly. 'It's the show. People know my face and, as such, think they know me.'

  Jaz wondered if he really didn't think that his dev­astating good looks could have had anything to do with Sharon's flirtatious behaviour towards him.

  She gave herself a mental shake, knowing she was reacting badly to the over-friendly manner of a silly woman she knew would take great delight in knowing she had scored a direct hit with her behaviour. Besides, Jaz chided herself impatiently, she wasn't out on a date with Beau Garrett, merely sharing a meal with him be­cause he hated to eat alone.

  She gave a nod. 'I think you underestimate your own attraction there, Beau,' she derided. 'But you're right about Sharon being friendly, in fact she's being delib­erately provocative because the two of us have never got on.'

  'Hey,' he chided, turning in his seat to lightly curve her jaw and raise her face to his. 'I didn't say it was all due to the show,' he drawled mockingly.

  Jaz laughed, as she knew she was supposed to. Beau may like to give the impression that he was cold and arrogant, but somehow Jaz thought that wasn't the whole story. He was self-confident, yes, self-sufficient too, and his often ruthless interviewing of the guests on his talk show proved that he really didn't suffer fools gladly either, but underneath that aloof exterior Jaz al­ready knew he was a much warmer, caring person than he would like people to believe.

  And she was rapidly becoming light-headed from the unaccustomed glass of red wine, the warmth from the fire, the good food, and the company of this attractive, sophisticated man.

  The touch of his hand against her jaw wasn't helping, either, his skin warm and firm against hers.

  'I should have asked earlier.' He spoke huskily, his gaze guarded now as it searched her flushed face. 'Is there anyone who is likely to object to your coming out to dinner with me like this?' He frowned darkly.

  'Anyone—? Oh.' Jaz could feel the warmth deepen in her cheeks as his meaning became clear. 'No,' she said abruptly. 'There's no one like that.'

  His gaze darkened intently. 'Has there ever been?'

  'No...' She swallowed hard, wondering exactly where this conversation was leading. If anywhere!

  He gave a disgusted shake of his head. 'Confirming my impression that there's a distinct lack of red-blooded men in Aberton!'

  Jaz spluttered with laughter at the unexpected remark. 'What makes you say that?'

  He grimaced. 'There was a definite difference in ratio of men to women at Madelaine's drinks party last week. I also had the feeling I was being assessed as regards suitable marriageable material. On several levels!' he added derisively. 'Not least of all by my hostess!'

  No doubt he had been, although Jaz, thankfully, had already left before that had started. She would hate to think that Beau thought of her as one of that number.

  'Poor Madelaine,' she murmured ruefully. 'She's very nice, don't you think?' Madelaine was one of the few people who had been kind to her after her mother ran off so abruptly. Far from what Jaz might have ex­pected, the older woman had in fact been one of the few people to be kind to her.

  'Oh, very nice,' he mimicked mockingly, his hand at last falling away from her chin as he lifted his glass and took a drink of his beer. 'You were right about this, by the way; it is good,' he assured appreciatively.

  End of that particular conversation, Jaz easily guessed, this man shying away from any suggestion that he might be looking for anything more than a home in Aberton.

  A warning to her as well as women like Sharon and Madelaine...? Probably not, she decided ruefully. She doubted he would have invited her to share a meal with him if he found her the teeniest little bit of a threat to his bachelor status.

  Well, that was a really confidence-boosting realiza­tion. She—

  'Hello, you two,' an over-jovial voice greeted intru­sively.

  Dennis Davis of all people, Jaz realized with a certain amount of dismay, her smile forced as she looked up at him.

  Her father's contemporary, as well as being an un­reliable builder, Dennis's job also allowed him to be one of the busiest gossips in the village. The chances of her shared meal with the new celebrity in the village escaping notice had already been slim, but with Dennis's appearance in the pub it was now non­existent! Jaz could guarantee that by five o'clock to­morrow evening every inhabitant of the village would know that John Logan's daughter had spent the evening with the famous Beau Garrett. Worse, that Janie Logan's daughter had been seen out with him!

  'Davis.' Beau nodded aloofly to the other man.

  Dennis grinned unabashedly. 'I've just called in for a pint on my way home from work.'

  Beau's brows rose over mocking grey eyes. 'I thought you packed in for the day two hours ago?'

  'On your roof, yes,' Dennis confirmed brightly, still wearing the paint-daubed overalls he had been working in earlier. 'Can't work on a roof once it's dark, but there are plenty of other inside jobs I can be getting on with.'

  As far as Jaz was aware, the only 'inside job' Dennis got on with at five o'clock was to visit a certain married lady in a village five miles away. Dennis lived in a cottage with his spinster sister, Margaret, and the ar­rangement suited him as well as his sister. But that didn't mean he couldn't have a 'friend', especially a married one who wasn't in a position to make any de­mands on him.

  Dennis was what the village called a character, ex­cusing his less-than-reputable behaviour on those grounds. Jaz, in view of how her mother had behaved, had a totally different name for him!

  'I see,' Beau returned dryly, seeming to already know the older man well enough to realize it wasn't work that had delayed Dennis's arrival home. 'Well, don't let us keep you from your "pint",' he added pointedly as the other man seemed inclined to linger.

  Dennis nodded reluctantly. 'I'll leave you two alone, then.' He shot Jaz a totally speculative look before leav­ing.

  'Oh, dear,' Jaz grimaced once the other man had left. 'Our innocent meal out together will have become something totally different by the time Dennis gets through talking about it,' she explained at Beau's ques­tioning look.

  'Let it,' he rasped scathingly. 'Maybe it will help to keep other women off my back!'

  In other words, she could be used as a shield for this man against any relationship-minded women in the area!

  Not exactly flattering. Considering her naivety, and Beau's obvious air of sophistication, not exactly believ­able, either. And certainly no good for her reputation.

  'I don't think it was your "back" they were inter­ested in,' she came back waspishly.

  His expression became grim, his eyes cold as he raised a hand to the livid scar down the right side of his face. 'The front isn't exactly pretty,' he rasped harshly.

  They all had their sensitive points, it seemed...

  Jaz gave him a calm, considering look. 'I'm sure you could have plastic surgery to lessen the scar, if it bothers you that much.'

  His gaze became glacial now. 'It doesn't "bother" me,' he bit out coldly, stiffly aloof now.

  'But your television programme—'

  'I said it doesn't bother me,' he rasped.

  'But—'

  'If you've finished your meal we may as well leave,' he cut in icily, pushing his own plate away as he pre­pared to go.

  It may not bother him, but it was obviously a sore point, one that Jaz, in view of their abrupt departure, was now sorry she had pursued.

  'I've finished,' she confirmed evenly. 'And I'll be quite happy to walk back if you—'

  'Don't be ridiculous,' he cut in scathingly, standing up abruptly. 'I brought you here, I'll take you home.'

  'This isn't London, Beau—'

  'I'm well aware of that!' he snapped enigmatically.

  'I'll be quite safe walking home—'

  'It isn't a question of safety,' Beau rasped. 'Although it's certainly a factor.'

  Jaz wrapped her scarf
about her neck before follow­ing him outside into the cold night air. 'What is it a question of, then?' she teased, hoping to lighten his mood somewhat.

  They had been getting along just fine until the subject of his scar had been introduced to the conversation. Her own fault for pursuing it, she accepted, but the truth was she had enjoyed herself this evening more than she had for a long time. It would be a pity for them to part on bad terms now.

  He glanced back at her in the semi-darkness of the car park. 'You really want to know?'

  Her stomach gave an uncomfortable lurch at his re­luctance to answer her; he didn't appear to be a man who suffered from that emotion too often. 'I really want to know,' she told him firmly.

  Beau stopped to turn to her. 'Okay, then. The truth is, you look too tired to make it the half a mile back to your home!'

  Well, that was certainly honest, Jaz accepted ruefully. Not exactly flattering, but honest.

  She gave a self-derisive smile. 'I really am much stronger than I look, you know.'

  'I hope so, for your sake,' he returned grimly. 'Oth­erwise you may not make it to the end of the week!'

  Not only did he sound as if he didn't have a lot of faith in her landscape gardening abilities, his remark was also extremely patronizing. She had never not com­pleted a job, and he had already heard the praises of her satisfied customers to prove it.

  Jaz eyed him frowningly. 'Is that why you invited me out to dinner?'

  'What do you think?' He eyed her coldly now.

  Jaz opened her mouth to make a cutting reply, stop­ping as a car swung into the car park, its headlights briefly illuminating the two of them as they faced each other like antagonists.

  Because that's exactly how Jaz felt at this moment. She wasn't some charity case he needed to bestow his largesse upon. In fact, she had offered to pay for her own meal earlier and been very firmly verbally slapped down.

  It had seemed petty at the time to argue the point with him, as it was just as impossible now with other people getting out of their parked vehicle, but that didn't mean he had heard the last on the subject!

  'Jaz! How lovely to see you,' greeted a voice that Jaz instantly recognized as being Madelaine Wilder's.

  She turned to see the other woman just getting out of her Jaguar saloon, the figure emerging from the pas­senger side of the vehicle identifying itself as the major.

  'And Beau too,' the other woman realized delight­edly, a fragile blonde with beautiful china-doll features that belied her forty-five years, looking very attractive in a silky suit of pale mauve. 'How wonderful—we can all have dinner together!' Blue eyes glowed with pleas­ure as she strolled over to join them.

  'I'm afraid not,' Beau was the one to answer evenly, stepping forward to take a proprietal hold of Jaz's arm. 'Jaz and I have already eaten,' he added with what, to Jaz at least, definitely sounded like relief.

  'Oh, what a pity...' Madelaine's smoothly perfect features echoed the disappointment in her voice. 'But perhaps you could join us for a drink before you go?' she invited hopefully.

  'Yes, do join us for a drink, old boy. You too, Jaz,' the major added somewhat belatedly.

  Quite what he was a major of, no one, not even the biggest gossips, had actually been able to ascertain in the twenty years he had lived in the village, although he occasionally dropped remarks into the conversation about his 'time in India'...

  Jaz looked at the other couple, both the major and Madelaine very smartly dressed, the major in blazer and grey trousers, a regimental tie knotted precisely at his throat, and from experience, Madelaine's silk suit would have a designer label. Even Beau was looking expen­sively casual, but Jaz, in her disreputable jumper and patched jeans, was definitely out of their league.

  'I'm really sorry—' once again Beau was the one to answer for the both of them '—but I have some work to do.'

  'Really?' Madelaine's beautiful face lit up with in­terest. 'What are you—?'

  'I'm afraid we really do have to go,' Beau cut in firmly, his fingers tightening pointedly on Jaz's arm.

  'Yes,' she put in brightly. 'I—have some things to do myself.' She wasn't lying, either, she always had 'some things to do'. 'Maybe next time,' she added warmly to take some of the sting out of Beau's abrupt­ness.

  'Of course,' the major accepted smoothly.

  Aged in his mid-sixties, twenty years older than Madelaine, he had obviously been waging some sort of romantic campaign in her direction the last couple of years. To no avail as far as Madelaine was concerned. With the possible exception of when Madelaine needed a male escort to some social function or other.

  Not that Jaz could exactly blame the other woman for feeling that way. Madelaine was a very attractive and wealthy widow of only forty-five, whereas the major, although pleasant enough, was definitely some­thing of an old duffer. But 'harmless enough', as Madelaine had once girlishly confided in Jaz.

  Although he was obviously pleased that she and Beau—especially Beau, Jaz suspected!—weren't about to intrude on his evening out with Madelaine.

  'Lovely to have seen you again, Beau,' Madelaine stood on tiptoe to kiss him lightly on his left cheek. 'Jaz,' she added affectionately before repeating the ges­ture, at once enveloping Jaz in the waft of her expensive perfume.

  'Whew!' Beau muttered thankfully once the two of them were at last seated in his Range Rover. 'I don't know what it is about that woman—she's certainly pleasant enough—but I just want to take to the hills every time I see her!'

  Jaz's eyes widened at the admission as she stared at him in the semi-darkness, knowing by the look of con­fused self-disgust on his face that he meant what he said. Even if he didn't understand the feeling.

  She chuckled softly. 'Coward!' She shook her head disbelievingly.

  'Without doubt,' he confirmed unabashedly, turning the key in the ignition. 'I came here to get away from well-meaning, predatory females, not meet more of them!' he added grimly before turning his concentration towards his driving.

  Leaving Jaz to wonder what he thought she was. Obviously not predatory. But did Beau not see her as female, either?

  Doubtful, she acknowledged self-derisively. Or, if he did, it was something in the way of a little sister, some­one who needed looking after. In any case, it was ob­vious Beau didn't see her as any sort of threat to his solitary existence.

  She hadn't thought she was, either. But not for the reason Beau obviously did. She simply wasn't inter­ested in the complications of loving someone enough to give over her future happiness into their hands. A cliché perhaps, a direct result of her parents broken marriage, but it was nonetheless the way she felt about love and marriage.

  Then why did she feel this sense of disappointment that Beau didn't even see her as female, let alone at­tractive...?

  'What did I say or do now?' Beau sighed wearily, obviously aware of her preoccupation, if not the reason for it.

  'Absolutely nothing,' she assured him crisply, an­noyed with herself for even thinking such things. 'So you are here to work, after all?' she prompted interest­edly.

  'No, I'm not,' he answered flatly. 'I only said that to get away from "the Odd Couple".'

  Jaz gave a reproving frown at his description of Madelaine and the major. 'You can be extremely cutting when you want, can't you?' she told Beau as he gave her a questioning glance. 'Madelaine is one of the nicest people I know, and the major is—well, he's harmless enough, to quote Madelaine! And they aren't a couple,' she added defensively, knowing Madelaine wouldn't like this highly eligible man to think that they were.

  Beau's mouth twisted derisively. 'She just feels sorry for him every now and then and throws him a few crumbs of human kindness, is that it?' he rasped harshly.

  Jaz gasped. 'I take back what I said just now,' she told him breathlessly as he parked the Range Rover out­side the garden centre. 'You aren't just cutting—you're deliberately nasty!' She glared at him accusingly.

  After all, what did he really know about any of them
? The major. Madelaine. Even her. Nothing really, and yet he had already sat in judgement of them all—and found them wanting!

  Beau turned in his seat to look at her, his arm resting on the steering wheel, a mocking smile now curving his lips. 'That's been said before,' he drawled unconcern­edly. '"Sticks and stones", Jaz.' He shrugged dismis­sively.

  'Not at all,' she told him emotionally. 'And if it's been said before, don't you think it might actually have some merit?'

  He gave a dismissive grimace. 'I've never tried to win any popularity contests.'

  That was obvious from the guests he chose for his television programme, and the way he interviewed them, both guaranteed to be controversial. 'Compulsive viewing', Jaz vaguely remembered one reviewer en­thusing approvingly. Maybe so, but it was ultimately Beau Garrett they were referring to and not his guests.

  'What's the matter, Jaz?' Beau cut tauntingly into her thoughts. 'Decided I'm really not a nice person, after all?'

  'I'm not sure that I have ever said I thought other­wise!' she was stung into replying.

  He shrugged unconcernedly, eyes glittering in the darkness. 'Then one more insult isn't going to matter, is it?' he dismissed derisively, and before Jaz could even begin to guess what he meant by that remark he had reached out to clasp her upper arms and pull her towards him, his mouth claiming hers with punishing determination.

  At which point Jaz knew that the last thing she felt was insulted! Dazed. Surprised. Mesmerized, even. But she was too stunned by the unexpectedness of the kiss to feel insulted.

  Following that initial surprise she found herself filled with a glowing warmth, trembling from head to foot, her whole body liquifying as she leaned into him weakly, lips burning as Beau kissed her with a thor­oughness that was completely beyond her experience, his arms firmly holding her body curved against the hardness of his.