‘Yes, well…I didn’t sleep all that well with my foot…’
‘Which you said was definitely on the mend…’
‘On the mend but not quite there yet,’ Tessa informed him irritably, knowing that the foot was the last thing that had disturbed her sleep patterns.
‘Lucy said you went to bed early with a headache,’ Curtis remarked, and Tessa flinched at the intimacy implied in discussing her behind her back.
‘Your brother’s very nice.’ She changed the conversation abruptly and cast her eyes around him, scanning the room and hopefully giving off signals of restlessness. ‘He was telling me all about his house in Scotland and what it’s like living there…’
‘Riveting stuff.’ Curtis’s eyes were narrowed speculatively on her face. ‘Ground-breaking social repartee, I would say.’
‘I’d like to go and meet your mother.’ Tessa dodged the verbal missile that she knew was designed to stimulate a response in her. As was his body language, leaning into her, elbows resting on his thighs. When did he plan to tell her about Lucy? she wondered. Once she had been eased gently off the scene? ‘She’s caught my eye a couple of times. I must seem very rude coming here and then ignoring the hostess.’
‘I shouldn’t worry about it.’ Curtis could feel his irritation growing as she glanced across the room, cleverly avoiding the blue eyes that were trying to pin her down. ‘Right now, Mum’s as busy as the proverbial bee. It’s the same every Boxing Day. Mark and I tell her just to do something light and trouble free, beg her to get the caterers in…’
‘And…?’ Tessa reluctantly looked at him, charmed by the evident love in his voice when he discussed the members of his family.
‘And she agrees wholeheartedly. All through the month of November. At which point she begins letting slip the odd remark that people always preferred home-cooked food instead of all that plastic perfection that caterers were so good at, that light food was fine but that it had to be interesting light food. Then Boxing Day arrives and she’s rushed off her feet, even though Anna does her best to try and help out. Despite the distractions…’ They both looked at his daughter, who was now involved in amateurishly face-painting one of his brother’s children.
‘You let her wear the clothes she bought in London,’ Tessa couldn’t help remarking. ‘She looks beautiful.’
‘You can take the credit for that,’ Curtis said lazily. ‘Actually, you did me a favour. I was a little overprotective, thought I could keep her in strait-laced frocks suitable for the over forties when actually she would have asserted herself sooner or later. Better she asserted herself when she happened to be with you than later on, in the company of someone her own age with a taste for provocative clothing.’
‘Or Lucy, even,’ Tessa murmured, and when he frowned and leaned forward to catch what she had said, she smiled brightly and nodded in the direction of her sister. ‘I said, here’s Lucy!’
Curtis felt another spark of intense irritation and the uncomfortable feeling that she was somehow getting away, though there was no reason to think that. He would corner her later on, somehow, but in the meantime he smiled as Lucy approached and pulled a low, fabric-covered stool next to them.
‘I always wondered how Boxing Day things were conducted in the houses of the Great and Good,’ she exclaimed, grinning and flopping down on the stool, which was so low that she had to stretch her legs out in front of her at an angle.
‘The Great and Good. Hmm. Not sure too many of my family members would allow me into that particular club, but does it live up to expectations anyway?’
‘An awful lot of hard work, from what I see. Don’t you agree, Tess? I mean, on Boxing Day we normally run to a couple of people, left-over turkey sandwiches and drunken games of charades once we’ve polished off all the chocolates in the house.’
‘Which just goes to show how far apart our worlds are, Luce!’ It was an opportunity too good to pass up. The opportunity to project just the smallest of warnings to her sister that this man was definitely not all he cracked himself up to be. ‘This is Curtis’s reality, even though he does such a brilliant job at being one of the ordinary people!’
Lucy seemed stunned by this observation, but then giggled a little nervously. Curtis looked enraged. Quietly, darkly and silently enraged. Tessa smiled blandly at him, as though there were absolutely nothing wrong in stating the obvious.
She wondered whether she should push the boat out with another ingenuous observation, but those narrowed, furious eyes, so far from the teasing charm that came naturally to him, made her think again. She stood up and excused herself.
‘I’m going to see if I can find your mum,’ she said, scanning the room. ‘If not, I think I’ll corner Anna again. I’ll leave you two to it. Oh, you can have a look at Lucy’s portfolio! She said you were interested in some of the stuff that she was doing!’ If the portfolio had been some kind of ruse, then too bad. Lucy would have to sit through an inspection and suffer any consequent embarrassment.
She saw them exchange a quick look and then Lucy hurried into speech, apologising in advance for the quality of her work but unable to suppress the excitement in her voice.
Tessa slowly walked off, head held high, feeling Curtis’s eyes boring into her from behind.
If she could spend the remainder of the time avoiding him, then she would.
It largely worked out that way. His relatives were all highly sociable people and she found that her foot was an immediate ice-breaker with them. The fact that she worked for Curtis was a further source of conversation, most of it highly entertaining. And Isobel, busy and flustered, was a delight, since Tessa had only ever thought of her as the embodiment of elegance and calm. It was nice to see this big family group, with their long-time friends, enjoying the fact of being together.
From wherever she was in the room, she was aware of Curtis with Lucy, aware of his eyes following her, trying to puzzle out her mood, was even aware when they disappeared for a short while, Lucy with her portfolio under her arm.
She saw them slip away, towards the middle of the afternoon, just when the curtains were being drawn and coffee was being served with liqueurs. Her heart seemed to stop beating for a few seconds and she was aware of the catch in her throat as she continued to chat to Anna and Isobel, while her mind swelled with images of what they might be getting up to.
A quick, cursory flick through some pictures and then what…? A kiss? One of those hungry, urgent kisses that she herself had been a victim of? A kiss aimed at catapulting down any barriers? Not that there would be any barriers between them. Lucy wasn’t a barrier kind of girl. Tessa didn’t think there would be any angst-filled questions, any doubts. She had to force herself back into the conversation, but her body was taut when they eventually emerged, both talking urgently together, his dark head inclined to meet her fair one.
Curtis spotted her immediately. She was sitting down on one of the plump chairs, foot resting on a small, velvet-covered footstool, chatting to old Colonel Watson, one of his parents’ friends. For a few seconds he just stared at her, drinking in that calm, serious expression as she listened to whatever George Watson was rambling on about. She had tucked her hair neatly behind her ears, but every time she moved her head some escaped and swished against her cheek and then she would automatically tuck it back into position.
Lucy had wandered off to play with the kids, and for a moment his eyes lingered between the two of them, musing on how physically different they were. Blonde and vivacious stacked against brunette and wary.
From across the room, Tessa caught that look as his eyes followed Lucy thoughtfully. He was comparing them. She read that as clearly as if he had it written in large script across his forehead. Comparing and contrasting. Or perhaps just contrasting. She couldn’t remember a time when she had been jealous of Lucy. Lucy was Lucy and her stream of boyfriends and adoring admirers had been a source of amusement for Tessa but nothing else. But now jealousy filled her like a poison and she closed her eyes for a few
fleeting seconds. When she opened them it was to find that Curtis had bridged the space between them and was standing by her, gazing down from his great height.
‘Oh!’ Tessa said, flustered that she had been speculating about him and now here he was, as if he had read her thoughts and decided to wander over to find out more. ‘You’re back.’
‘Back?’
‘From having a look at Lucy’s portfolio. What did you think of her work?’ She turned to the colonel and began explaining what her sister did, taking much longer with the explanation than was necessary, just to garner some self-control, while Curtis stood and stared down at her.
The colonel made one or two jocular remarks about his lack of artistic talent, his admiration for anyone who knew what to do with some charcoal or a paintbrush, and then excused himself to check up on Isobel, make sure she hadn’t collapsed from overexertion. Which left her all alone with Curtis.
He sat down in the colonel’s chair. When he spoke, his voice was normal enough but his blue eyes were watchful and assessing. Assessing what? Assessing how she would react to his budding involvement with her sister? The sickening, faint feeling that had plagued her since she had first overheard that conversation was replaced by a dead, still, cold calm.
He was asking her something about whether she was having fun. Tessa nearly laughed aloud at that one.
‘Absolutely,’ she said neutrally. ‘Your relatives are all so nice and it’s great seeing Anna again. She looks wonderful.’
‘In her twenty-first-century clothing.’ Curtis grinned, trying unsuccessfully to drag her from her zoned-out state. ‘I think she’s done a ritual burning of the old-fashioned frocks and Alice bands.’
‘She hasn’t, has she?’ Tessa gasped, momentarily distracted, and he laughed and touched her cheek with one brown finger.
‘I hope not. Those clothes cost quite a bit. I’ve told her that the least she could do is give them to charity. I’m keeping my fingers crossed that she doesn’t interpret that as free rein to go and buy whatever she wants in the expectation that I now have no right to object.’
Where he had touched her had left a hot, stinging trail. It was all she could do not to wipe it away with the back of her fist.
‘I’m sure she’s far too sensible to do that,’ Tessa said obligingly, and he gave her another quick, frustrated look from under his lashes.
‘Tessa, what’s goi—’
‘Lord, is that the time?’ she interrupted quickly, before he could start on any difficult conversations. ‘Work tomorrow. We really must go. I wonder if your mother needs any help with the clearing up?’
‘No, she definitely doesn’t need any help with any clearing up,’ he grated, catching her by her wrist as she began to stand. ‘She might insist on doing all the cooking but she does relent when it comes to the aftermath. She has people come in to do that for her. We’ve barely exchanged two words all day, do you realise that?’
‘It’s difficult at something like this,’ Tessa said on a note of desperation. Caught in mid-motion, she didn’t know whether to sit back down or wrestle her hand out of his vice-like grip. ‘So many people around,’ she elaborated vaguely.
‘You should try my mother’s New Year’s Eve parties.’ Curtis relaxed enough to grin. ‘Always starts small, just a few close friends, and by the time December the thirty-first has come round, the few close friends has always managed to swell into eighty-odd and counting. We have to talk. There’s something I need to tell you…’ The grin got a little wider and Tessa felt panic hit her like a fist right in her stomach. She just knew, with sudden foreboding, that somewhere in his next sentence her sister’s name would be mentioned.
‘It’s about Lucy…’
CHAPTER NINE
REFLECTING back, Tessa was amazed that those three little words, unintentionally aimed straight at her heart, hadn’t resulted in an immediate breakdown. Right there, half standing, half sitting, with Curtis’s firm hand closed over her wrist. In fact, her utter composure had been a great reminder to her that she would be able to get through this and put it behind her. An ability to keep up appearances was everything. After all, didn’t you eventually believe the myths you started creating about yourself? Show the world that you were strong, that you hadn’t been hurt, and sooner or later you would find yourself no longer having to pretend.
She had smiled brightly and exclaimed that there was no need to launch into this particular conversation about her sister, that she already knew. And then, when he had still been in his stunned phase, she had managed to release herself from his fingers and return to the noisy bustle of the party, where several people had conveniently been paying their respects to the hostess before taking their leave.
She and Lucy had managed to slip out before she could be cornered again by him and forced to hear the quiet let-down, the rueful sheepishness that her sister’s attractions were just so much greater and more inviting. She had even managed to avoid the worst-case scenario, which was being asked, urgently and passionately, whether she would mind not saying anything about what they had got up to just in case it jeopardised his chances with her sister.
However, she had known what she had to do.
Nevertheless, she could feel a wave of nauseous nervousness sweep through her as she walked through the familiar doors of the office building.
The feeling intensified on the ride up, where she maintained a glassy-eyed, fixed stare in front of her, ignoring every other person in the lift.
She had decided to arrive as early as possible, in the hope that she would get to the office before him. Time for a strong cup of coffee and a few stern lectures to herself before she had to face the reality of his overwhelming presence.
As luck would have it, he was there. Tessa spotted him the minute she walked into her office, through the open door that led to his. He was sprawled back in his chair, legs propped up on the desk, surveying something on his computer. His jeans were faded to almost white in patches and he was wearing a long-sleeved black tee shirt. Conservative dressing by his standards and he looked shockingly sexy.
‘God, you’re early!’ His eyes crinkled in an appreciative smile. ‘Half the staff are off for a couple more days and the other half will be taking their time getting here.’ He beckoned her with one finger and, though he was still smiling, his eyes were serious.
Just in case he was thinking of continuing the conversation he had been obliged to abort the evening before, Tessa rooted through her bag and carefully placed the envelope on the desk in front of him.
He looked at it for a few seconds, then said brusquely, ‘What’s this?’
‘Open it and you’ll find out. Can I get you some coffee?’
‘No, you can stay right there until I see what you’ve given me.’ He dropped his feet to the ground, leaned forward and took the envelope, opening it in one swift movement as he slid back into his reclining position.
Tessa didn’t look at him as he read, and re-read and re-read again. She focused on her fingers instead, spread clammily on her skirt.
‘It’s a letter of resignation,’ Curtis said eventually, his voice devoid of any intonation, and this time she did look at him. His lips were narrowed in a thin line and he was frowning, but not in a puzzled way. More in a savagely grim way.
‘I know what it is. I wrote it.’
‘Mind telling me why? Or do I have to guess?’
‘Well, as I mentioned in the letter, the job is brilliant, but it’s just not for me.’
‘Why not?’
‘We did say from the start that there would be a three-month probationary period,’ Tessa hedged. ‘You would be free to give me my walking papers if you didn’t like what you got and I would be free to do the same.’
‘And you’ve decided to go down that route even though you’ve spent, let’s see now, eight lines extolling the fabulous nature of the work.’ He leaned back, folded his hands behind his head and proceeded to give her the full benefit of his attention. It was
like being hosed down in freezing water. His eyes were chips of ice.
In her head, Tessa had imagined that her resignation, after the first few platitudes of regret and maybe a token attempt to tempt her to stay, would be happily accepted. After all, wasn’t she freeing him up to commence a full-blown affair with Lucy, without having her around like a guilty conscience draped round his neck?
She hadn’t thought that she would have to account for her decision.
‘Do you mind if I sit down?’
For a few seconds, he looked as though he might just insist that she remain standing, but eventually he nodded briefly at the chair in front of his desk and she sank into it with a feeling of relief.
‘So…you were about to explain why you feel the need to leave this job even though…’ he picked up the letter lying on his desk and quoted from it “‘…It is enjoyable and invigorating and has provided an invaluable window of experience which will prove very influential when seeking a new position elsewhere…”’
‘I just think…’ What did she think? Quoting her own resignation letter back to her had been a dirty trick. Now she was supposed to come up with some plausible reason why she was quitting a supposed dream job. And she could hardly start waffling on about the money because the money was just another dreamy aspect of it.
‘Cut the crap, Tessa. We both know why you’ve suddenly decided that you have to quit.’
Silence. Tessa cringed into her chair and stared firmly down at the tips of her shoes. So, she had managed to dodge the inevitable let-down chat the evening before and now she was going to have it drummed into her head.
She didn’t notice him vacating his chair and wasn’t aware of what he was doing until he was leaning right over her, hands gripping the sides of her chair, his face thrust aggressively close to hers.
‘I just want to hear you say it,’ he grated softly.
That did it. This time she looked him straight in the eye, her rising anger matching his own.
As if it wasn’t enough that she knew what he was up to! Oh, no, he was determined to have it out in the open so that they could discuss it! Presumably like two adults. Maybe he needed to talk about it so that he could put any tiny speck of conscience he had to bed.
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