One Reckless Night (14 page)

 
'Better late than never.' She made herself meet his gaze. "That girl that night-in the house at Emplesham-she never existed. You must understand that. Accept it. I-I don't really know what happened.'

 
'Don't you?' His tone was almost reflective. 'At a guess, I'd say that life happened to you, Susie.'

 
'And please stop calling me that.' She punched her fist into the palm of her other hand in frustration. 'There is no "Susie". There never was.'

 
'I'm sorry to hear that. I shall miss her.' Another deliberate pause. 'Suzannah.'

 
'I never use that name either.'

 
'May I know why?'

 
'My mother's name was Susan. After she died my father found it too painful a reminder, so I became Zanna.' And why, she asked herself helplessly, have I told him all that?

 
'I'm sure you did,' he said quietly. 'Except for a few brief hours which you're now doing your damnedest to deny.'

 
'I have my reasons,' she said shortly. 'I'm sure I don't need to spell them out.'

 
'On the contrary,' Jake drawled. 'We might both find it-instructive. But I'll let you off, Ms Westcott, as we're being formal, on one condition.'

 
'Which is?' Zanna picked up her bag, prepared for flight.

 
'What I asked at the beginning of this somewhat tortuous interview. I want you to tell me what you were wishing for.'

 
'Easily done,' she said tautly. 'I was wishing that you and I had never met.'

 
There was a brief silence, then, 'How sad,' he said lightly, 'when we share such beautiful memories. And here's another for the collection.'

 
His hands descended on her shoulders, pulling her towards him, and his mouth covered hers in a swift, angry possession which left her breathless. It was a fierce ravishment, over as soon as it had begun, which left her treacherous, reeling senses crying out for more. She wanted to feel the warmth of his body against hers, the strength of his arms holding her, comforting her. And instead she was left with-nothing.

 
She stepped back, resisting the temptation to put a hand to her throbbing lips. Her words, it seemed, had caught him on the raw.

 
'Game over.' She was annoyed to hear the slight tremor in her voice. 'Goodbye, Mr Lantrell.'

 
His smile had all the charm in the world. 'Good riddance, Ms Westcott.'

 
He did not touch her again, but somehow she found herself ushered out, found herself negotiating the ramp to the ground floor, aware of the sidelong glances of the staff.

 
And the sound of his door, closing behind her, echoed in her brain with a curious finality all the way to the street.

 
The park was busy. As well as tourists, office and shop workers had brought their lunches into one of London's great open spaces and were picnicking on the grass, enjoying the warmth of the sun. And there were families too, playing ball and feeding crusts of bread to the ducks and swans on the lake.

 
Zanna, huddled in solitary state on a bench near the sparkling water, watched them with unseeing eyes. In spite of the heat, she felt deathly cold.

 
She was still trying to come to terms with the events of the past hour, to accept that Jake had been here in London, looking for her, at the same time as she'd been in Emplesham, trying to find him. Except it wasn't like that, she reminded herself fiercely.

 
Because Jake Brown, who'd teased her, infuriated her, warmed her and carried her away on a tide of undreamed-of passion, had never existed.

 
And in his place was a man more of an enigma than his sham counterpart had ever been.

 
Not that there was any real mystery about why he'd tried to find her, she acknowledged bitterly. She could guess the nature of their 'unfinished business' all too easily, in spite of his denial. He'd intended their relationship to resume where it had left off-in bed. He'd been intrigued by her summary departure sufficiently to pursue her, to discover her real identity-something he'd achieved without too many problems.

 
But thank God his investigations hadn't gone any deeper, she thought, laying a protective hand on her abdomen. At least he didn't know about the baby.

 
She hadn't been sure, even when she went back to Emplesham to find him, whether she would actually tell Jake Brown she was going to have his child. She knew without any doubt at all that she would keep it a secret from Jake Lantrell.

 
Even if he didn't react like that other man of power, her father, and suggest she had an abortion, he would insist on offering her money for the baby's upkeep, and that would entail a measure of control. Even worse, he might feel sorry for her, she thought, wincing as pain slashed through her.

 
Well, she wanted neither his pity, his money, nor his involvement in her life. And she could do without them.

 
She could cope.

 
It would probably mean leaving London, she acknowledged. She might also have to change her name, because she wasn't convinced he wouldn't come after her again. Jake Lantrell was hardly a man to take no for an answer, or to relish such a cavalier dismissal as she'd tried to inflict.

 
She would have to run, she told herself, and she would have to hide. And there was no more time to waste.

 
Shivering, she reached for her bag, then paused, transfixed, as she watched the group coming towards her. It was another family party, the man tall and dark, the woman shorter, slighter, fairer, and their child, just emerging from babyhood, toddling between them, clasping a hand of each. As they walked along the parents were swinging him gently into the air while he squealed with delight, demanding to be swung again as soon as his feet touched the ground.

 
Zanna saw the look they exchanged over the laughing child's head, proud, tender, adoring, and felt her throat tighten in response.

 
That, she thought, was how it should be. How, surely, it must be, rather than the lonely road she had chosen.

 
She knew now, clearly and without equivocation, why she'd tried so desperately to find Jake. Because for a few short hours she'd encountered her man, the other half of herself-or so she'd believed.

 
Only now, she thought, he's gone forever. And she saw the shimmering water in front of her dissolve and blur as her eyes filled with tears she dared not shed.

 
CHAPTER EIGHT

 
ZANNA cut open the pack of moist pink ham and regarded it with distaste. Salad, she thought with a sigh, and new potatoes to prettify it, and plenty of pickle to mask its total lack of flavor. Or, better still, why didn't she forget the ham and simply empty the pickle jar?

 
Zanna Westcott, she reproached herself, do you want this child to be born with a permanently sour expression?

 
Certainly since she'd been pregnant her appetite for sharp and spicy foods had increased enormously. But this evening, she didn't have much of an appetite at all.

 
You have to eat, she told herself firmly. You've made decisions. You have plans. You need to keep your strength up.

 
On leaving the park, she'd caught one of the open-top tour buses and spent the afternoon riding round and round while she recovered her composure, looking at a London she'd barely known up to now. It was time she saw the sights and learned to appreciate some of its history and grandeur, she'd thought wryly, especially as she would be leaving very soon.

 
She'd decided to move to one of the big Northern cities-Manchester, perhaps, or Leeds. It would be easier to start again-make a new life in a place where she was completely unknown. It would be an adventure, she thought with determination.

 
She wondered what her chances were of reclaiming some of the rent she'd paid in advance from the landlord, and concluded ruefully that they were probably slim. Her room was clean, and decently furnished, but that was as far as his philanthropy went. However, she'd written to him, to hand in her notice, leaving her letter in his post box downstairs.

 
She considered her dwindling financial resources and grimaced. She'd travel by coach, because it was cheaper than the train, find the cheapest possible digs and sign on with every employment agency she could find. She'd take any job she was offered and save every penny she could towards a decent flat for when the baby was born. And when she couldn't work any longer she'd claim maternity benefit. It was all perfectly straightforward, she told herself resolutely.

 
And Jake Lantrell could spend as much time as he liked searching London for her. Until, of course, he got fed up and decided to call off his dogs.

 
'Another problem solved,' she said under her breath as she filled a saucepan with water for the potatoes and set it to boil on her tiny gas stove.

 
The knock at her door surprised her. It must be the landlord coming to check she hadn't done a flit with everything she could carry, she decided grimly as she went to answer it.

 
She said coolly, 'I didn't expect such an immediate reaction...' and stopped dead, gasping, as she saw who was waiting outside.

 
'I hope you're not going to faint again.' Jake held up a carrier bag and a wrapped bottle of wine. 'As you see, my hands are full this time, and I won't be able to catch you.'

 
She said grittily, 'What the hell are you doing here?'

 
'I asked you to have dinner with me. You refused, so I'm here to have dinner with you. I've even brought the food, which I reckon makes me the perfect guest.'

 
'I'm sure you think you're very amusing.' Her face
 
was stony. 'But I regard this as harassment, and I want you to leave. Now.'

 
Jake shook his head sadly. 'Hospitality isn't what it was.'

 
'I think,' she said, 'that you're supposed to wait till it's offered.'

 
'Maybe,' he agreed. 'But I had the feeling it might be a long wait.'

 
'Until hell freezes over,' Zanna corroborated. She wished he would go, and quickly. Because the smell from the carrier bag was utterly delectable. Chinese, she thought hungrily, her mouth beginning to water.

 
'Are you sure I can't persuade you to dine with me?' He looked past her to the small table, where that damned ham was already pessimistically curling at the corners. 'Although what you're having looks delicious, of course,' he added smoothly.

 
'Are you sure you won't just leave the food and go?' she retorted.

 
'No way, Susie.' His grin was appreciative. 'This is a take-away special dinner for two. You have to learn to share.'

 
She hesitated. 'I thought I'd made it clear I didn't want to see you again.'

 
'You made it crystal-clear that you didn't want to pick up where we left off,' he said crisply. 'But that doesn't mean we can't be friends. Let's say that we didn't part on the best of terms this morning, and I'd like to make amends.'

 
She gave him a troubled look. 'This is not a good idea.'

 
'Neither is eating alone in this grisly hole.' Jake gave his surroundings a scathing look. 'Is this the best you could do?'

 
She shrugged. 'You tell me,' she countered. 'You seem to be the self-appointed expert on my affairs. And you should see some of the places I turned down.'

 
'No thanks. It might put me off my food. Speaking of which...' Jake held up the carrier bag, sending more delicious scents wafting towards her. 'Are you going to let me in, or is all this wonderful crispy duck and pork and prawn and black bean sauce just going to waste?'

 
She stood aside grudgingly. 'Well-OK.'

 
 
'There's my gracious hostess.' He began to unpack foil cartons onto the table. 'Does this establishment run to two plates? I've brought chopsticks. And this.' He handed her a short length of rope, tied in a coil.

 
'What's this for?' Zanna looked at it, mystified.

 
'I thought you might want the additional assurance of tying my hands behind my back,' he said. 'Of course, you'd have to feed me.'

 
Her lips curved into a reluctant smile. 'Don't be a fool. Besides, what makes you think I wouldn't tie you up and eat the lot in front of you?'

 
'Zanna might,' he said. 'But Susie? Never.'

 
'I wish you'd stop this,' she protested. 'You make me feel like a split personality.'