Marriage Under Suspicion (11 page)

I know it could be the grand passion of his life.

But she couldn't let herself think in those terms. It hurt too much.

'Have a nice lunch? Is it somewhere we can use?' Louie asked brightly, coming in to

collect a file.

Kate concealed a shudder. 'The food was good, but I didn't think it was big on

atmosphere,' she returned rather wanly.

Louie played an elaborate game with some paperclips. 'Talking of food, as neither of us

are working on Saturday, I wondered if you and Ryan would like to come to dinner? It—

it's a farewell banquet for Neil.'

Kate looked at her, startled. Neil had been a regular item in Louie's life for the past three

months. 'Farewell?'

'He's taken a two-year contract in Saudi Arabia. It's quite understandable. He much

prefers working in the field to pushing a pen at head office.'

Kate bit her lip. 'But don't you—mind?'

Louie shrugged. 'If only I did,' she responded candidly. 'It wasn't until he told me he was

going that I realised how little involved we really were. Second-best was probably as

good as it was ever going to get.'

'Are you sure about that?' Kate asked wistfully.

Louie nodded. 'Certain,' she said levelly. 'Neil was still fixated on his previous girlfriend.'

'Oh, Lou, I'm sorry.'

'Don't be.' Lou sounded brisk. 'I was just as bad— hankering after someone I couldn't

have either. We were both using each other as smokescreens to hide what we really

wanted.'

Kate stared at her. 'I didn't know that,' she said slowly.

'It isn't something I was keen to spread about,' Louie said wryly. 'But I've realised life is

too short to put on hold while someone decides whether or not his marriage is going to

work. I don't have to settle for that.'

Kate winced. 'Of course you don't,' she said quietly. 'And I'm sure Saturday evening will

be fine. I'd better check with Ryan, and call you this evening to confirm.'

That is, she reminded herself flatly, if Ryan ever speaks to me again.

When she let herself into the apartment, he was sitting facing the open windows, reading,

a glass of wine on a table beside him.

From the kitchen came a tantalising aroma of tomatoes, garlic and herbs, and in spite of

her jangled nerves, and uncertain stomach, Kate's nose twitched appreciatively.

Striving for normality—until the storm burst, anyway—she said, 'Something smells

good.'

'I've made some meatballs to go with the pasta.' His tone was calm, even friendly. His

face gave nothing away. But then it never had. Kate could remember a former colleague

who'd worked with him in the City talking about Ryan's poker-face. 'It's what makes him

such a great gambler,' he'd said.

But this time he was gambling with their marriage—their future together.

'I thought you could do with some solid food,' he added dryly. 'You didn't eat a great deal

at lunch.'

She bit her lip. She'd thought he'd been too engrossed in his discussion with Penny

Barnes to notice.

She said tautly, 'Well, that's hardly a surprise, is it?' She put down her bag and briefcase

and came to stand directly in front of him. Her heart felt like a stone. 'Ryan—you've

obviously got something to say.

‘Why don't you just get it over with? I'm a big girl. I can take it.'

There was a pause, then he said, 'I liked the dress.'

'So did I,' she said. 'And I hope its next owner will be just as pleased. I gave it to a charity

shop.'

His brows lifted. 'A little drastic, isn't it?'

She shook her head. 'I'd never have worn it again. I hardly want a reminder of my less

than finest hour.'

'I suppose not.' He paused again. 'As a matter of interest, why did you come in with all

guns blazing?'

She swallowed. 'I—I was expecting to find you with Joe. Seeing you with—Penny threw

me completely.'

'You don't usually overreact like that.' His eyes were cool and watchful. 'It was—

spectacular.'

'Don't you laugh at me,' she said fiercely. 'Don't you dare bloody laugh, damn you.'

'Don't fool yourself, lady,' he bit back. He got to his feet in one lithe movement, and

stood, hands on hips. 'I'm a long way from amusement, I promise you.'

The change was so sudden it rocked her, and she took a quick step backwards. He saw

the reaction, and let his hands drop to his sides, his mouth twisting ruefully.

He said, 'Is there anything I could say that you haven't told yourself already?'

Kate bit her lip. 'I—shouldn't think so. And I'm truly sorry. I hope I haven't rocked any

boats.'

'I think my sales figures can probably absorb the shock waves.' He spoke lightly, but she

wasn't fooled. 'Now, sit down, relax and have a glass of wine. Dinner will be about

twenty minutes.'

She accepted the glass he handed to her with a small, tight smile then sat down on the

sofa opposite, smoothing her skirt decorously over her knees.

'One thing intrigues me,' Ryan commented, refilling his own glass. 'How did you know

where to find us?'

Kate groaned inwardly. Then, 'Elementary, my dear Watson,' she returned with an

insouciance she was far from feeling. 'Remember that Hitchcock film festival we went

to? When Gary Grant wanted to follow Eva Marie Saint in North by Northwest!'

'I do indeed,' Ryan said slowly. 'Well, well.' He lifted his glass to her in a mocking toast.

'If ever Special Occasions begins to pall, you could always take up private detection.'

Kate swallowed some wine. 'I don't think I'd be very good at it,' she returned. 'Too prone

to jump to the wrong conclusions.'

'But why go to all that trouble? Even if I'd been meeting Joe instead of Penny, it was still

just a business lunch. You don't usually bother.'

Now, if ever, was the moment to tell him about the anonymous letter. About all her

doubts and fears ever since. About the even bleaker fear that their marriage was slipping

away somehow. That the distance between them, widening every day, might soon be im-

possible to bridge.

Instead, she said, 'But I'm interested in your work. I always have been. I—I read the first

one while you were writing it—remember?'

He smiled slowly, his gaze touching her with sudden frankly sensual reminiscence,

making her skin tingle, and the breath catch softly in her throat. 'Yes,' he said. 'I

remember.' Ryan working at the table, she thought. Herself stretched out behind him on

the old chaise lounge, with its rubbed velvet and dented mahogany, that they'd bought for

a song at auction and instantly dubbed the Casting Couch. Her eyes avidly scanning

every page as it came from the printer.

Waiting for the moment when he would switch off the computer, and turn to her. 'What

do you think?'

'I think it's brilliant, and you're wonderful.' She had no real idea whether it was or not.

She could only hope. Tell him what he needed to hear, her arms reaching out to him,

drawing him down to her in love and laughter, feeling the adrenalin that charged him, and

reacting to it with eager passion. Her hands teasing, subtle as their bodies entwined...

'But you've read none of the others since.' The flat statement brought her hurtling back to

the here and now. 'At least not in manuscript.'

'Well—there's been no need,' she said lamely. 'After all, you were an instant bestseller.

An enormous success. And then you had Quentin—and Joe to discuss your work with.

People who knew what they were talking about.'

He said softly, 'But they couldn't match your individual input, Katie.' He paused, then

added with a certain deliberation, 'I'm amazed the old couch survived.'

To her own amazement, she realised she was blushing, her whole body suddenly charged

by the memories he was evoking.

She said hurriedly, 'And of course I had my own career to think about too. And then we

moved here.' Her laugh sounded almost nervous. 'Everything— changed.'

There was a silence, then Ryan said quietly, 'I guess it did.' He put down his glass. 'I'll

check on dinner.'

'Well?' There was a faint smile in Ryan's eyes as Kate put down her knife and fork with a

sigh of repletion.

'Better than that,' she said. 'It was a terrific meal, Ryan. Thank you.'

'My pleasure. Just fresh fruit for dessert, I'm afraid..' He pushed a platter of nectarines,

apricots and grapes towards her.

'I don't know whether I can.' Kate selected a nectarine and began to cut it into quarters,

then paused. 'I nearly forgot. Louie wants us to go to dinner on Saturday. It seems Neil's

going abroad to work, and this is a goodbye bash.'

There was a pause. Then, 'Is she very upset?' Ryan leaned back in his chair, his fingers

playing with the stem of his glass. 'Was he the man of her dreams?'

'Apparently not.' Kate bit her lip. 'It seems that all this time she's been secretly in love

with a married man—and I never guessed.' She shook her head. 'I can hardly believe it. I

thought I knew her better than anybody.'

'How much do any of us really know about each other?' There was an odd note in his

voice. 'Did she tell you who it was?'

'No. That stays a secret. I got the feeling that he's been stringing her along. Letting her

think he might leave his wife.' She sighed. 'Poor Louie.'

'Well, perhaps he will.' Ryan drew the fruit bowl towards him and took a bunch of grapes.

'Maybe he's just waiting for the right moment—if there is such a thing.'

Kate stared at him. 'Are you serious? You think he should walk out on his marriage?'

He shrugged. 'It sounds as if he's done that already. Having an affair is a kind of

desertion.'

Her throat tightened. 'Yes—but if it was just a passing fling the marriage might survive.'

'I wonder if that's possible.' Ryan sounded meditative.

'I'm sure it is.' Kate spoke passionately. 'With goodwill on both sides.'

His brows lifted mockingly. 'Why, darling, are you defending this errant husband?'

'By no means,' she said, huskily. 'I'm on the side of the wife.'

'Without knowing the circumstances?' He tutted. 'She might be equally to blame if the

relationship isn't working.'

'Or she might simply be living in a fool's paradise, without a clue what's going on,' Kate

snapped.

'I thought your sympathy was actually with Louie,' he said mildly.

'Well, so it is,' she said hurriedly. 'I just wish she could meet the right man, and—and

settle down.'

'Are you sure that's what you want?' His tone was dispassionate.

She put down the dissected nectarine and wiped her ringers on her napkin, staring at him.

'What on earth do you mean?'

He shrugged. 'I was thinking of your earlier comment—about everything changing.

Perhaps the consequences might not altogether please you.'

'Nonsense,' Kate said roundly. 'I want Louie to be happy, that's all. Where's the harm in

that?"

Ryan helped himself to another handful of grapes, his expression enigmatic. 'No harm at

all. Anyway, we'll go round on Saturday and wave Neil off into oblivion. Let's lose no

time about it.'

Kate hesitated. 'I understand that there isn't much to lose—before you go off to

Yorkshire.'

His brows lifted appreciatively. 'The girl detective strikes again. Although I was planning

to tell you this evening, anyway.'

'Tell me,' she said slowly. 'Not—ask me. Ask if I minded.'

Ryan shrugged. 'You lead such a busy life, darling. I didn't think you'd even notice my

absence.' He paused. 'Besides, a short time apart could even be therapeutic. Give us both

some space—some thinking time.'

Kate felt as if she'd been touched by an icy hand.

'Is that what you want?'

'I think it's what we both need.' His face was closed. She could not read his expression, or

guess his ultimate intentions.

Why do you want space? she cried out silently. When we're already a thousand miles

apart? And what do you need time to consider?

She wanted to ask if he was going alone, but her courage failed her.

Instead: 'Was this why you cooked the meal?' she enquired with forced lightness. 'To

keep me sweet when the blow fell?'

Ryan shrugged again. 'Perhaps I'm just worried about your sudden loss of appetite,' he

countered.

'A hangover from lunchtime,' she said. 'It's difficult to eat with one's foot wedged firmly

in one's mouth.' She paused. 'Ryan—you won't say anything to Louie, will you? I mean

about her lover. I don't think she meant to tell me.'

'I won't say a word,' he said lightly. 'Now sit down, and I'll bring you some coffee.'

'Such service.' She flashed him a smile. 'Maybe you should go away more often.'

His own grin was oblique. 'Maybe I will.'

He turned and went into the kitchen. Kate watched him go, aware that her heart was

thudding, and that the ground seemed suddenly to be sliding away from under her feet.

Had he just issued a warning? she wondered. Was he telling her their marriage, too, was