Old Desires/A Stranger's Kiss (2-in-1 edition) (31 page)

Tara sighed. ‘All right, Lisa. We’ll pay you for today and tomorrow.’

When she had gone she and Beth exchanged a glance. ‘It’s deliberate, isn’t it?’ Tara asked. ‘I’m not being paranoid?’

‘It’s deliberate. And off the top of my head I’d say Lisa has it about right. He wants you back. Although whether he knows it is a moot point.’

‘He...’ Her voice quivered. She cleared her throat. ‘Nonsense. Anyway, he can’t have me. And if he keeps this up he won’t have anyone.’ She pulled a pile of time sheets towards her.

‘You’re not going to telephone him?’ Beth asked.

‘No, I don’t think so. If he wants someone let him call us.’

‘Going to make him beg?’ Beth asked, slyly, with every appearance of innocence.

Tara shook her head. The thought of Adam Blackmore begging for anything was unimaginable.

The afternoon was devoted to the payroll, which required careful concentration and the phone was so busy that she soon forgot to jump every time it rang. It was a shock then to suddenly hear his voice, so close, against her ear.

There was no polite preamble. ‘Tara. I’ve been waiting for your call.’ She gripped the phone convulsively, quite unable to speak. ‘You must know by now that I need another secretary.’

‘Lisa did drop by on her way home. I’m afraid I shall have to invoice you for the full two days for her.’

‘Find me a decent secretary,’ he said, sharply, ‘and we’ll talk about it.’ He hung up.

Tara stared at the phone for a moment, then replaced it on the receiver. ‘Any ideas?’ she asked Beth with a sigh.

‘You know what I think.’

‘You’re wrong, Beth. He told me to go. That he didn’t want to see me again.’

‘Did he?’ Beth considered. ‘Then if you don’t mind me saying so, he’s going a funny way about it. Why don’t you take pity on the man?’

Tara lowered her thick dark lashes to conceal the sudden brightness in her eyes. ‘Beth, his last secretary has just had a baby. It’s her I’m taking pity on.’

‘Oh, my dear. I’m so sorry.’

‘Please don’t...’ But it was too late. The threatening tears spilled down her cheeks.

Beth busied herself with filing cards. ‘How about Mo? Her shorthand is good.’

Tara shook her head. ‘She doesn’t deserve it. None of them do.’

‘Oh, wait a minute. I’ve got the answer… Janice is our girl!’

‘But I thought she was working for that accountant on a permanent basis now.’

‘She called in on Monday to say she’s back in the market. She’s unflappable, takes one hundred and fifty words a minute without flinching and she’s not afraid to speak her mind.’ She chuckled. ‘It’s the nearest he’s going to get to you. Except in age.’

‘I wonder what her underwear is like?’

‘Tara?’ Beth was looking at her a little oddly.

‘Sorry, thinking out loud.’

‘I see. Well, leave Janice to me. I think you should run along home. You look fit to drop.’

‘You say the kindest things.’

Beth tilted an eyebrow at her. ‘I suppose it’s only polite to phone the man and let him know who to expect in the morning?’

She shook her head. ‘No, don’t do that. Let him sweat.’ And almost managed a smile.

* * *

Saturday dawned bright and clear. The first real warm spring day. Tara barely noticed. She cleaned her flat thoroughly, making sure her hands were occupied, but it didn’t help her head or her heart. Today she would have to face Jane and reassure her that she had no competition and she was trying very hard not to think about it.

After lunch, a sandwich that she barely touched, Tara went to change.

A plain grey skirt, an old but favourite white blouse from Laura Ashley, its collar fanned up like a ruff, a long black knitted edge to edge jacket. The barest touch of make-up. Her hair pulled back and tied with a neat red bow at the nape. She surveyed herself in the mirror. Very ordinary. Jane would never believe she was a threat in such an outfit.

She smiled at her reflection.

She must remember to smile.

On the final few steps to the front of the clinic she almost lost her nerve. She could always write... or phone... anything but this.

A friendly porter made a point of coming over. ‘First visit? Where do you want to go?’

‘Maternity,’ she almost croaked.

He pointed the way and stood and watched to make sure she followed his directions, nodding encouragement as she seemed to hesitate.

She found Jane’s room with a little help from a nurse and tapped at the door.

‘Come in.’ The voice was instantly recognisable.

She opened the door and stepped inside. There was no turning back.

Jane Townsend looked at her curiously for a moment. ‘Are you Tara Lambert?’ she asked, with apparent surprise. Then her face widened in a smile. ‘How kind of you to come.’

‘I...’ Her voice stuck. She offered the flowers she had bought. ‘I thought I should.’

Jane touched the furry yellow centres of the daisies. ‘Just like a bunch of sunshine. Thank you.’

She was older than Tara had expected. At least thirty, with a fine strand of silver in the neatly tied back hair. And her face seemed oddly familiar. But then she remembered the photograph in the newspaper.

‘Come and meet the son and heir.’

Almost numb, Tara moved around the bed. The baby was lying asleep in a small cot beside his mother, his fists bunched tightly against pink, downy cheeks.

‘His hair is blonde!’ The words were startled from her. She had been so afraid he would be like Adam, with a mop of dark hair and green eyes. Stupid. All babies had blue eyes. He opened them and seemed to smile at her.

‘Isn’t it gorgeous.’ Jane touched the soft curls. ‘It will darken later I suppose, but such fun.’

‘He’s beautiful.’

‘Pick him up if you like.’

She lifted the tiny bundle into her arms and cradled him, touching the small fingers letting them grip her own, comparatively huge one. She breathed the warm, milky smell of him and a wave of unbearable longing swept over her.

She glanced up to see Jane regarding her with great interest. ‘You seem to have made a good recovery,’ she said, quickly.

‘Oh, yes. Just as long as I don’t cough. It’s hell on the stitches.’

Tara had thought it would be easy to hate Jane Townsend, but it wasn’t. She was so natural, so easy to be with. ‘Tell me about Bahrain. Did you enjoy yourself? How is Hanna?’

‘He was very charming,’ she said, tactfully.

Jane laughed. ‘He kissed your hand and made you feel you were the most beautiful woman in the world?’

‘He kissed my hand a lot.’ But he couldn’t make her feel beautiful because she had known it was just an act. ‘I thought it was simply to annoy Adam.’

‘Did it?’ The question came so quickly that she immediately realised her mistake.

Conscious that Jane was watching her closely she forced a smile to her lips. ‘Of course not. Why should it?’

Jane’s eyes narrowed slightly. ‘Forgive me for being personal, Tara, but do you always dress like that?’

Tara glanced down at the monotone of her garments and remembered the red dress. ‘Not always.’

‘It’s odd. Adam said you were a widow, but I had anticipated something merrier.’ Tara started at the word but managed to keep the smile in place.

‘He just seems to catch me at my worst moments. He’s been something of a Galahad,’ she added, in an attempt to suggest that his motives had been entirely pure.

‘Adam is the sort of man any damsel in distress could trust with her life, her heart…’

Oh, God, this was so much worse than she had imagined!

‘Is he good?’ she asked, keeping her eyes fixed on the infant in her arms. ‘Charles Adam.’

‘It should have been the other way around…’ The door opened and she looked up. ‘Speak of the devil and he’s bound to appear. Hello, my darling.’

Adam stiffened in the doorway as he took in the sight of her sitting cradling the baby. ‘Tara?’

‘I asked her to come,’ Jane said, a little defiantly, Tara thought. ‘I wanted to meet her. I hope you’ve brought enough grapes for three.’

‘No.’ Tara rose to her feet and placed the baby gently in his crib. ‘I must go.’

‘Nonsense,’ Jane said. ‘Sit down, Tara. Adam won’t stay long and he’ll take you home if I ask him nicely. Won’t you, darling?’

Adam scowled at her. ‘If you insist.’ He was curt to the point of rudeness.

‘I do.’

He shrugged, not looking at her and she was forced to sit through agonies of embarrassment as he dropped a careless kiss on Jane’s cheek, painfully aware of how his voice softened for her.

‘How are you today?’

‘Desperate to go home. I hate this place.’

‘Next week,’ he said, firmly. ‘And the little tadpole?’ He leaned across and touched the baby’s cheek. ‘Hello, Charlie.’

‘Don’t call him that! His name is Charles!’ To Tara’s horror, Jane’s face suddenly crumpled. ‘Oh, Adam, I’m sorry, I just wish...’

‘Sssh. It won’t be long.’ He sat on the bed and gathered her into his arms to comfort her. ‘It won’t be long now, I promise.’

Tara muttered an excuse and almost ran from the room. He caught her a hundred yards down the road. ‘Where do you think you’re going?’ he demanded, turning her back towards the car park. ‘I said I’d take you home.’

‘There’s no need. I need some fresh air. Hospitals make me feel queasy.’ At least this one did.

‘Really?’ He gave her a hard look. ‘Or was it just a ploy to get me to chase after you?’

‘Why on earth should I do that?’

‘I have no idea.’ He opened the car door for her and she got in quickly before he could touch her. ‘Why did you come here?’

‘Jane rang and asked me to come and see her.’

‘Why?’ He was relentless.

‘You’ll have to ask her that.’

But she knew. Jane hadn’t asked her to come to warn her off her man. She wanted to demonstrate to her rival that she had no chance. Wanted Tara to sit and hold the child that she and Adam had made, touch it, see how closely Adam was bound to her. She must have known that Adam would be visiting her this afternoon and had specified just the right time for Tara to call.

When the stage was set and all the players had been allocated their parts, she had produced the tears, turning the agony-screw, forcing her to witness Adam holding her, comforting her. Then she had thrown in the final humiliation, the consolation prize of a lift home. And Adam had accused her of being a good actress.

CHAPTER EIGHT

‘JANE sends her apologies for the tears.’ He glanced across at her as they waited at the exit to the car park for a gap in the traffic. ‘Apparently it’s quite common. The hormones go all to pieces.’

‘You’re quite the expert.’ Her voice was scratchy and she hated herself for it. She had lost her heart, the least she could do was hang onto her self-respect. He must never know how much she was hurting.

‘Hardly that,’ he said as he pulled out, neatly avoiding a cab that cut across him.

The journey continued for some time in silence, each of them deep in their thoughts. Tara closed her eyes in an effort to blot out the overpowering presence of the man she loved, edgily aware of the precarious nature of her self-control. But the faint scent of some citrus based cologne, mingled with the leather of the upholstery and something wholly insubstantial that called to her, focusing every nerve-ending, until she gave up the unequal struggle and turned to look at him.

She had thought, in the first second she had seen him that he was ruthless. And it was true, there was a drive, a dynamism that had carried him to a position of power and influence that he enjoyed without apology. But there was so much more. She had thought of him as a black knight, but that wasn’t right. He had his faults, heaven knew, but he was on the side of the angels. He might even now regret his affair with Jane. The way he had kissed her that last day in his office had been more than simple lust. He had wanted her as much as she wanted him and only her fingertip grasp on sanity had stopped them from making the most terrible mistake. But he was aware of his responsibilities to Jane and the baby and he would never desert her. That was right and she accepted it.

He turned suddenly and caught her staring. ‘You sent the pearls back.’ The unexpectedness of this statement, so far from her own thoughts, came as a shock. ‘Why?’ he demanded.

‘What did you expect?’ she asked. ‘You refused to do it for me.’

‘I thought you were being unnecessarily noble. Hanna could afford to be generous.’

‘That’s not the point.’

He glanced across at her again. ‘You’ve quite shaken Hanna’s faith in the avarice of women, you know.’

‘You’ve spoken to him?’

‘He telephoned in something of a panic, demanding to know what you wanted from him. What it would take to buy your silence. He assumed, you see, that returning the earrings was a very sophisticated form of blackmail. A suggestion that it wasn’t quite enough.’

Her eyes widened in horror. ‘No, Adam!’ He had to believe her.

‘I finally convinced him that if you had said you had forgiven him he could forget the whole thing. He’s a broken man, Tara. He’s not used to forgiveness without having pay for his misdeeds. His wife extracts jewels like a quack dentist.’ He half smiled. ‘No anaesthetic.’

She looked at her hands nervously pleating her skirt. She could cope with anything but that smile. ‘I could never have worn them.’

‘Well, you’ve done yourself no harm. He’s a powerful friend and he feels a debt of honour.’

‘A singularly inapt phrase, if I may say so.’

‘What? Oh, yes, I suppose it is.’ They were stationary in traffic and he drummed his fingers impatiently against the steering wheel.

Tara felt herself beginning to crack. It had been a dreadful day and being forced into his company this way was the most subtle form of torture. Looking out of the window she realised they were near a station.

‘Look, I’m sorry you were lumbered with me, Adam. There’s a station over there, I’ll make my own way home from here.’ She moved to unfasten her seat belt.

‘Stay where you are, the traffic’s about to move.’

‘Well could you just pull over and let me out?’

He stared at her. ‘Is my company really so abhorrent to you?’ The traffic began to move, but he stayed put and in seconds an angry chorus of horns began to sound behind them.

‘Adam!’

‘Answer me!’

She couldn’t lie. ‘You said you didn’t want to see me again. Ever.’

‘Which just goes to show how much I know,’ he said, bitterly. He glanced in his mirror and raised a placating hand to those behind before moving off.

‘Please, Adam,’ she implored.

He ignored her, accelerating away as the traffic cleared in front of them and the station was left far behind. ‘Surely it’s not too much to ask for your company for a few miles? You don’t have to talk to me if that’s a problem.’

She didn’t answer. There was no point now. Apparently satisfied that this was a positive response, he slid a disk into the deck and the strains of Tchaikovsky’s Violin Concerto filled the car, putting an end to the verbal sparring.

Tara closed her eyes, allowing the music to lift her and carry her where it would. She didn’t open them, even when they came to a halt, assuming that it was simply traffic lights until he cut the engine and the silence flooded back.

Dragged back to reality, she looked around her. They were parked alongside the river. ‘Where are we?’

‘Somewhere in Buckinghamshire,’ he said, enigmatically. ‘Does it matter? I just felt like a walk. I’ve been chained to my desk all week and I’d like to blow the cobwebs away.’

‘Won’t it be dark soon?’ she protested.

‘Not for an hour. We’ll just take a gentle stroll down by the river. Nothing strenuous.’ He offered his arm. For a moment she held back. But he had been forced to bring her in order to indulge Jane’s need to control him, and it would be churlish to insist on being taken straight home when he clearly wanted some fresh air. Truth to tell, she could do with some herself.

She slipped her hand under his arm and allowed him to lead her down to the waterside. They walked for a while along the bank. It was peaceful. The river was running smooth and strong, trailing out the willows, and the coots and mallards were busy about the bank. The warm spring evening had tempted out quite a few people, but as the light began to fade they all seemed to be heading in one direction. Adam followed them and Tara found herself being led into the warm interior of an ancient inn. He ducked under a low beam and approached the bar.

He turned back to her. ‘What would you like?’ It was the normality of it all that was so bizarre. He seemed completely unaware of the oddity of their situation. Perhaps that was the best way. Keep up the pretence of normality.

‘A glass of white wine, please.’

He ordered a tomato juice for himself and led the way to small table in the corner. For a moment he said nothing, just looked at her as if trying to make a decision.

‘What did you think of Jane? Did you like her?’ The question had an odd ring to it, as if her answer was important to him. There was no likelihood of their ever being friends. She hoped never to have to meet the woman again.

Her hand trembled as she lifted the glass to her lips.

‘Our acquaintance was very brief,’ she hedged. Then with more determination. ‘The talk was mostly about the baby.’

A muscle in his jaw tightened as this reminder of his elevation to the ranks of fatherhood. ‘You looked very beautiful with a baby in your arms, Tara.’

She felt the slow burn of colour rising to her cheeks. There was no mistaking the look in his eyes.

‘I’m not in the market for babies, Adam. I have a career.’

He leaned forward, taking her hand in his and she was powerless to stop him. ‘Are you so determined on it? A life alone with only a pampered lapdog to lavish your affection on in your old age? Your husband died, Tara, but the world didn’t end. It was a long time ago and it’s time you started living again. You should be loved, cherished. Let me—’

Not the end of the world? He would never know how near to the end of the world it was. To have misjudged him so completely. Her voice was hoarse, but her meaning was crystal. ‘I can’t help you, Adam.’

He sat back as if slapped. ‘Then it’s true. You’re still in love with him.’

‘I will always love him. Is that so strange?’ Not like I loved you, she thought, but at least Nigel had never hurt her.

His eyes snapped contemptuously. ‘Even when you begged me to love you?’

The desire to strike back, to cause him pain to match her own was overwhelming. ‘We all have our needs, Adam. You were simply replacing my chosen partner for the evening. You were the one who backed out.’

‘You little bitch!’

‘What’s the matter, Adam?’ She felt utterly reckless because nothing mattered any more. ‘Surely you didn’t think only men could enjoy themselves in bed without any emotional commitment?’

A vein was beating fiercely at his temple. ‘No, Tara. But I was fool enough to hope...’ His smile was deadly. ‘It doesn’t matter.’ He stood up, seizing her elbow and pulling her after him out into the darkness of the river bank. When he stopped in darker shadows of an ancient willow, he turned quickly and dragged her into his arms. ‘If it’s simply fun you want, Tara. I’m as game as the next man.’

‘No!’ She pushed violently at his chest with her hands, but he had expected that and was unmoved. He pulled her closer, fitting the curves of her body to his, letting her feel his arousal. Tara began to tremble. She had goaded him beyond endurance and now he was going to take her, here on the cold, damp grass in the darkness beside the river. Tears began to flow unchecked down her cheeks. ‘Please, don’t,’ her voice broke on a sob.

He raised his hand to her cheek and felt the wetness. ‘Tears?’ He swore then and tore away from her. ‘My God, Tara, you drive me to the edge of insanity. I want you so much that sometimes I think I hate you.’ His breath was coming in short gasps. ‘Don’t you feel it? This... electricity.’ He reached out as if to shake an answer from her, but she flinched away and he stepped back, holding his hands high where she could see them, as if that would make her feel safe. ‘Why do you deny it?’

‘I need a little more than electricity to switch me on, Adam. I need someone who will love me all the time. Not just in the gaps between visiting Jane and her baby.’

‘Jane? What on earth has she got to do with us?’

‘Everything. That’s why she wanted to see me today, Adam. She needed reassurance.’

‘About what, precisely?’ His voice jarred against her breast bone. He was angry now, but there was nothing she could do about that. Jane would have to deal with him herself. She seemed more than capable.

‘You’re the expert on hormones, Adam. She’s just had a baby. She feels vulnerable. She wanted to be sure that I was no threat to her. I did my best which, heaven knows, is more than you deserve.’

His sudden harsh laughter was like a knife. ‘Is that why you’re dressed like a dowd?’ She made no answer. ‘It doesn’t work, my lady. Don’t you know that would turn heads dressed in a sack?’ Without warning he reached across and tugged the ribbon free from her hair, loosening it with his hands, his fingertips kindling hot trails of sensation, sparking dangerous desire that raced through her bloodstream like vintage champagne.

‘No!’ She wrenched herself away and ran back into the inn, ignoring his bellow of rage at her escape.

The landlady took one look at her face when she asked to use to the telephone and ushered her through to her sitting room to call a taxi, then left her tactfully alone to repair the damage to her tearstained face, brush out her hair.

She sat in the back of the cab as the miles flew past trying not to think. But her mind seemed to have gone into overdrive and the only thing on it was Adam Blackmore. Vivid images flashed before her in an endless procession. His eyes as he launched an attack on an unwary opponent across the boardroom table; his eyes burning her up with desire. His hands firmly gripping a steering wheel; his hand touching a baby’s cheek; his hand against her skin.

‘Is this it, miss?’

The driver’s voice jerked her back to the reality, the pain of now. ‘Oh, yes. Thanks. How much do I owe you?’

‘The gentleman paid, miss.’

‘Gentleman? But how did he know...?’ She saw the driver’s expression alter to one of interest and stopped. It must have been obvious what she would do. Or maybe the landlady had told him. ‘Can you tell me how much it was so that I can repay him?’

She passed Frank on her way into the mews reporting all was well into his radio and he raised his hand in greeting. She responded vaguely. Adam had apparently ignored her polite little note demanding his withdrawal. Well, he was hardly likely to worry about her safety after the dreadful things she had said to him this evening.

Her face burned at the recollection.

She had portrayed herself as the wanton he had believed her to be. Some wanton, who cried because the man she loved lusted after her. Her hand flew to her mouth and she ran for the bathroom.

* * *

It didn’t take her long to pack. Her godmother was always too distracted with her own affairs to be over-interested in anyone else’s. A week with her would clear the air and give her breathing space to get herself under control.

She had telephoned Beth, who sensing Tara’s distress, but keeping any curiosity to herself, offered her car for the journey.

‘It’ll take forever on the train. And don’t worry about the office,’ she forestalled her. ‘I’ll get someone in if I need help.’ She paused. ‘I take it you don’t want your address given to anyone who might ask?’