At the moment they were still scouring the villages to find old shops selling brass and pewter stands, which they would present to the market-gardeners with whom Laura was dealing, in order to badger them into giving them plants they could place on all the radiators. During their travels they had even discovered amateur artists eager to give away their paintings, as long as they would be hung on walls where they could be seen; and though many had tactfully to be refused, they still had more than enough to meet their needs.
"Short of putting down wall-to-wall carpeting," she said to Robert one Saturday afternoon when they had finished hanging more pictures on the wall overlooking the directors' dining table, "I don't see what else we can do!"
"Thank heavens for that! I was beginning to think we'd never be finished."
Contritely she smiled at him. "You've been a wonderful help. I could never have managed without you."
"At least ten other men would have helped you try." Seeing her puzzlement, he grinned. "Everyone around here thinks you're a fabulous bit of homework! Half my office staff has been trying to bribe me to plead illness or overwork and let them have a chance of helping you!"
"I'd soon have tumbled to that one!" she retorted.
"Would you have been annoyed?"
"Oply at you for letting me down."
"I'll lever let you down. I hope you know that?"
"Of course I do." Embarrassed by his intensity, she deliberately kept her voice light. "You're the first friend I've made since I came to live here."
"I'd like to be more than a friend. From the moment I met you—"
"Don't," she interrupted. "Let's leave things the way they are. We've only known each other six weeks.''
"Don't you believe in love at first sight?"
"No. Sex at first sight, but not love!"
"Then I'll take the sex and wait for love to follow!"
"Not with me," she rejoined, and knew she had to make the position clear. It might not be the most tactful thing to do, in view of all the hard work he had done for her, but it would prevent the situation from developing into one she might not be able to control. "I like you as a friend, Robert, but nothing more."
"Then I'll be your friend and wait," he answered cheerfully. "I'm a patient chap."
"You're wasting your time. I like older men. I told you that the first time we met."
"I am older than you."
"In years, maybe; not in attitude."
Her tone, more than her words, made him realize she was serious. "Just because I act the fool doesn't mean I am one. I hold down a pretty responsible job and—"
"It's got nothing to do with that. I can't explain it but…"
"Try. Please, Laura."
"I suppose you remind me of Tim. You could so easily be a friend of his."
"Would that be wrong? I thought you were fond of your brother."
"I am. But I feel years older than him, too. In the same way I feel older than you."
"Then it's your attitude that needs changing—not mine."
Before she could stop him, he reached out and pulled her close. Thin and pale though he was, there was nothing weak in the way he held her, nor in the pressure of his mouth on hers. But it was a strength that left her unmoved, and her lack of response communicated itself to him and made him draw back in chagrin.
"Not one of my most successful conquests," he said with an effort at lightness. "I really do leave you cold, don't I?"
Distressed by his obvious hurt, she tried to soothe his feelings. "I wasn't as unmoved as you think," she lied. "I… I just don't want to be rushed."
"What are my chances of success if I make haste slowly?"
"I don't know."
"Are you in love with anyone else?"
"Ofcourse not!"
Satisfied by her emphatic response, his good humor returned. "Then I'll take my chances. Perhaps I'll be like a barnacle and grow on you!"
His humor eased the tension that had sprung up between them, and though she knew she would never feel anything for him other than a warm affection, she decided that at this juncture it would be more tactful to leave him in happy ignorance. No man could go on loving a girl who continually held him at arm's length— at least not if he were young, virile and sensible. Given a few more months, Robert was more than likely to start casting his eye elsewhere.
But during the following weeks Laura wondered if she had misjudged his tenacity, for no matter how much she tried to fob him off with pleas of tiredness, pressure of work and even family matters, he still visited her house at least twice a week, finding excuse after excuse to do so.
"You and Robert seem to be getting on fine," her father remarked one evening after Robert had come to see her on yet one more phony pretext. "I'm glad you've found someone you can talk to at last."
"But it's only talk, "she said lightly. "Don't read more into it than there is."
"You can't blame me for trying. You're going on for twenty-three."
"You sound as if you want to get rid of me!"
"Don't be silly. But most girls of your age are already married, and you've never even come anywhere near it."
"Two proposals," she reminded him.
"Both of which you turned down."
"You wouldn't want me to marry without love, would you?"
"You know the answer to that. But are you running away from it?"
"Why should I?"
He shrugged. "Maybe you don't want to lose your personal freedom. Maybe you enjoy being your own boss and don't want anyone else telling you what to do."
"I detect undertones of Mr. Andrews in that remark," she said tartly.
Her father looked genuinely surprised. "He's never so much as said a word about it."
"Not in words," she agreed. "But when he was here that first time, and some of the times he's been here since, he's gone out of his way to make me appear bossy."
"Well, you are."
"Dad!"
He grinned. "Sorry, Laura, but you rather asked for it. You're not bossy, really. I take that back. But you do act as if you know what's best for people, especially men."
"I do!" She grinned back at him. "And especially when it concerns you and Mr. Andrews. If I weren't careful, he'd be working you night and day."
"He does like work," her father conceded. "The only time he takes a night off is when he comes here."
"And talks shop with you until the minute he leaves? Honestly, dad!"
"We've had some pretty interesting talks even so," her father grunted. "He's well read and he has a good mind. He 'll be on the main board of the company pretty soon."
"Then he'd really be able to take care of his men, "she snapped.
Her father looked at her in such an amused manner that she blushed without knowing why. Feeling the color come into her face only increased her annoyance and made her even more snappy.
"What did I say that-was so hilarious?"
"Just the way you said it. I've never known a man get under your skin the way Jake has."
"That's because you've never seen anyone behave so arrogantly."
"He isn't arrogant. He's positive. That's quite different."
"He's always positive he's right,"she muttered.
"He generally is." John Winters waved his hand in the air to curtail her reply. "Seems to me you both rub each other the wrong way. Pity… I'd have thought you would have got on well."
Her father lapsed into silence and Laura continued working on some menus she had brought home with her. But it was difficult to concentrate; thoughts of Jake Andrews kept disturbing her, his face—handsome and assured—almost tangibly visual on the pages in front of her. Carefully she set the papers aside and looked into the bars of the electric fire, remembering their conversation the last time he had visited. It was nearly ten days ago but the memory of what he had said burned inside her with the same rage she had experienced when he had first said it.
He had come to dinner—the first time he had been invited to
a proper meal—and he had arrived promptly, carrying a bunch of flowers, which had surprised her, and wearing jeans and a sweater, which hadn't. All had gone well until she had served the coffee, when he had given a contented sigh and looked at her with satisfaction.
"You're a great cook, Miss Winters. You'll make some man a wonderful wife."
"Thank you," she had replied. "But I hope my husband, when I marry, won't have chosen me for that reason."
" I can think of a couple more!"
The way his eyes had moved slowly over her body had left her in no doubt about his meaning, and she had turned her head away. But he had refused to be put off.
"What reason would you like your husband to have for choosing you? "
"First of all I object to your use of the word 'choosing.' You make it sound as if a woman were a prize cow on sale to the highest bidder!"
"Aye. Maybe it weren't best word to use to a lass like you."
His accent was unexpectedly thick, and she glared at him, sure he was teasing her. But his answering look was innocent and she realized that when he was relaxed, or in a temper, the careful control he exercised over himself disappeared, and the voice of his youth returned.
"Forget the word, then," he said, "and just answer the question."
"Is it important that I do?"
"Aye, it is. I'd like to know what you think. You're a liberated woman and I don't often get the chance to talk to one!"
This time the look in his gray eyes left her in no doubt that she was being teased, but she carefully refrained from letting it bait her.
"I wouldn't want a man to marry me because I was a good cook. I want him to… to love me because we shared the same ideas, and the same tastes, the same political beliefs. If he—"
"Political beliefs?" It was a shout of amusement. "What has politics to do with love?"
"Far more than cooking!"
"I don't agree. You can always arrange not to discover your politics, but if a woman can't cook, her husband will soon go elsewhere to have his belly filled!"
"That depends on the man. If he's a pig—"
"Since when has a liking for food made a man a pig?"
She ignored the question. "It isn't hard to get a decent meal, but to find someone to share your ideals, all the things you believe in, that's far more important."
He shook his head. "I don't think it matters a damn whether a man and woman have the same opinions on anything!"
"Then your marriage will either be very noisy or very quiet."
He chuckled. "Noisy, I should think. I'd never be happy with a mouse."
"You'd never be happy with a woman who wasn't! You have to be boss. That's obvious."
"Aye. And the woman who loves me will want it that way. But that doesn't mean she must be a mouse.''
"No?"
"No. It means she must be clever enough to argue with me without making me feel how brilliant she is; and clever enough to give in without making me feel a bully."
"Sounds as if you want perfection."
"What's wrong with wanting the best?"
"Particularly as she'll be getting the best!"
White teeth flashed in his tanned face. "We agree on my value, then!"
With an effort she controlled her temper. "Your reasons for marrying are obviously not the same as mine."
"Only because I'm more honest with myself than you are. Why are you giving me bilge like having the same political beliefs and sharing the same ideas? Don't you know that the most important thing between a man and a woman is something that can't be put into words? It can only be felt… experienced."
"If you're going to put the conversation on that level…"
"On what level?" His voice was suddenly quiet; dangerously so. "On the level of sex, you mean?"
Quickly she glanced at her father, relieved to see he had fallen asleep in the armchair.
Jake Andrews followed her gaze and then raised one thick eyebrow. "You've lost your excuse not to answer me.
"I don't need an excuse." Her voice trembled. "You won't embarrass me by talking about sex. I merely find it…" She paused, then said deliberately, "I find it typical of you that you should think of marriage in those sort of terms."
"I happen to consider sex extremely important," he said calmly. "If there's no sexual attraction, there can be no real marriage. No matter what ideas and hopes you share, if you don't have the same depth of passion, you won't be deeply happy."
"And sexual attraction will make up for all the areas of disagreement? On that basis an atheist could be happy with a religious fanatic or an Arab could marry a Jew!"
"If they loved one another… yes. And loving each other they would learn to accept and understand their differences. Not perhaps in the two cases you've cited," he admitted. "But they were rather extreme ones. On certain fundamental issues there has to be a mutual understanding. But political opinions aren't fundamental. When a man and woman want each other, their political views won't keep them apart."
Still trying to prevent herself from hitting him, she said, "Then what are the fundamental issues—in your opinion?"
"I've just told you. The same attitude toward sex. It's no good a warm-blooded man marrying a frigid woman, or vice versa. They should also agree on racial issues— that's way above ordinary politics—and they should have the same values when it comes to honesty, kindness and ethics. Does that answer your question?"
"It could hardly fail! With agreement on honesty, kindness and ethics, you've covered the spectrum of human behavior!"
"Then we're agreed at last! So perhaps you'll concede that one doesn't have to have the same opinions on the little things?"
Speechless, she looked at him. Different scathing retorts came into her mind but she dismissed them all. There was nothing she could say that would deflate this man.
"Mind you, cooking doesn't come into any of the categories I've listed," he went on. "It's so important that it stands by itself!"
Only then did she think of a remark that might silence him. "What would you do if you fell in love with a—" She stopped and then said firmly, "I mean if you were so sexually attracted to a girl that you wanted to marry her, and then found she hated cooking?"
"I'd run like hell!"
She gave him a cynical smile. "I should think a man with your beliefs would find it hard to resist pure sex appeal!"
"I've managed up till now," he said calmly. "And if you'll forgive me saying so, I never said I didn't believe in love. Only that sexual attraction was a part of it."
Glancing momentarily at her father, she remembered the tender relationship that had existed between him and her mother, and could not equate anything Jake Andrews had said with anything she had seen in her parents' attitude toward each other.
"What would you do if your wife suddenly became an invalid?" she asked quietly. "Leave her for someone else or have a girl friend on the side?"
Red stained his cheeks; so intense was the color that his tan paled by comparison, making him look as though her question had hurt rather than embarrassed him. For a moment so brief that she was not sure it had existed, she felt compassion for him. But his reply to her question drove all compassion away, leaving her angrier than ever.
"Sick women should be treated like horses," he said flatly."Shoot'em!"
"Shoot what?" Waking up, John Winters came into the conversation with that sprightly air people adopt when they are trying to pretend they have only had their eyes closed and have been following the conversation the whole time except for this momentary lapse.
"Sick women and horses!" Jake Andrews said. "Waste of money to keep them!"
Laura looked at her father, annoyed to find him laughing. "I don't see what's so funny about it," she said.
"Jake's pulling your leg. Surely you can tell?"
"I don't know Mr. Andrews well enough to know his moods."
"We can soon remedy that." Jake Andrews was laughing at her, too. "I was going to suggest our going out one
night. I'd like to repay you for your hospitality."
"I don't need repaying."
"That was a clumsy way for me to have put it." He ignored the coolness of her tone. "Which evening would suit you?"
"I'm rather busy at the moment."
"Okay," he said easily; so easily that she was irritated even more. "Let me know when you're available and we can fix it up."
"Penny for your thoughts, Laura." Her father's voice brought her back to the present and she shook her head.
"They're worth more than that."
"Thinking of Jake?"
"What gave you that idea?"
"Because you looked as if you were spoiling for a fight. And it's a look you generally wear when he's around!''
"That's just your imagination," she said smoothly. "Which reminds me, he hasn't been around lately. Does that mean he's returned to normal working hours at last?"
"He didn't come to talk shop," came the reply. "He came to sample your cooking."
She blushed, glad that her earlier thoughts were not known. "Then he must have found a better cook than me. He hasn't been here for ten days."
"He's been in London all the week. But I understand he's coming back tonight."
Though her father's words explained Jake Andrews's absence from their house, she could not help wondering if he would frequent it, on his return, as often as he had done before their quarrel. Yet perhaps he had been too thick-skinned to recognize that they had quarreled. Indeed, he was sufficiently pigheaded to have seen it as a victory!
Gathering the blank menu cards, she forced herself to concentrate on them. She had already wasted far too much time on Jake Andrews.
CHAPTER FOUR
Laura could not help experiencing a sense of irony when she went into her office the next morning and found a note from Jake Andrews, asking her to come and see him.
It was almost as if she had conjured him up from her own thoughts.
It was the first time he had asked to see her officially since she had started to work for the company, and wondering if it was a routine meeting or heralded something more, she decided to see him at once. She would have no peace of mind until she did.
Rachel Lindsay - Rough Diamond Lover Page 5
