by Helen Brooks
By the time they had transferred to the big function room where the party was being held and the other guests had started arriving, Cory knew she liked Nick’s family very much. His two sisters were as different as Nick had indicated, as were their husbands, but underlying their dissimilarity Cory sensed a bond that was unbreakable.
Catherine Morgan was very much the matriarch of the family but in the nicest possible way, and her respect for her children and their individuality was obvious. That each child adored their mother was also obvious, and as Cory noticed the easy relationship Catherine had with both her sons-in-law she reflected that Nick’s mother was a wise as well as loving mother.
The nibbles Nick had spoken of turned out to be a fullscale buffet at ten o’clock, and as Nick had paid for an open bar all night everyone was enjoying themselves to the full—some a little too much. But everyone was pleasant and happy and the band was excellent, and as far as Cory was concerned it was wonderful to be in Nick’s arms again on the dance floor.
She had danced with Nick’s brothers-in-law and he had danced with his sisters a couple of times, as well as his mother, but Cory noticed he hadn’t asked Margaret to dance. Margaret had stuck to their table like glue, slipping into a seat on the other side of Nick when folk had first begun to occupy the tables scattered around the dance floor.
It was around one o’clock in the morning, when Nick was having a last dance with his mother—Catherine having stated a minute or so before that she had called a taxi to take her home but that the rest of them must continue enjoying themselves—that Cory found herself in a conversation about Margaret with Jenny. Nick’s sister was standing at the buffet table idly chewing on a stick of celery when Cory joined her, with her eyes fixed on her husband and Margaret, together on the dance floor.
‘Look at her,’ Jenny said in an undertone, with the candidness that was typical of her. ‘She can’t resist trying to bewitch every man who crosses her path. Poor Rod looks scared to death. He’s not used to dancing with a praying mantis. And it was me who told him to ask her to dance, with her not having a partner. He’ll never forgive me.’
Cory couldn’t help laughing. Jenny’s husband did have a hunted expression on his face. ‘Why didn’t she bring someone? I can’t imagine she’d have any problem in finding a date.’
‘Because of Nick, of course.’ And then Jenny clapped her hand over her mouth. ‘Sorry, that was incredibly tactless.’
Cory’s stomach had done a flip but she managed to keep her voice casual. ‘No, it’s all right. I’d gathered she likes him.’
‘Likes him?’ Jenny eyed her grimly. ‘She’s like a leech at any family do but with her parents being great friends of ours Margaret’s always been around. Funnily enough, her mum and dad are really nice. You’d like them. They’re away in the Caribbean at the moment, though.’
Cory nodded. She wasn’t interested in Margaret’s parents.
‘Look, let me explain something.’ Jenny took her arm, leading her to a quiet corner. ‘Nick would kill me if he knew I was talking like this so don’t let on, but I think it’s better you should know. So you don’t get the wrong idea.’
Cory kept her face bland even as her heart sank like a stone. She wasn’t going to like this, whatever it was.
‘Margaret’s always had a thing for Nick, right from when we were all kids together. She’s Rosie’s age and with our parents all being friends she was always at our house, supposedly to play with Rosie and me but in reality to traipse after Nick and his pals. When Nick married Joanna, well…’ Jenny paused as if not knowing how to go on.
‘Margaret didn’t like it?’ Cory put in.
‘That’s putting it mildly. She was nearly eighteen when we heard Nick and Joanna had done one of these sudden registry office things but even at that age she thought she was the cat’s whiskers. I honestly don’t think it had occurred to her that Nick might not want her. Then Joanna was killed.’ Jenny shook her head. ‘It was a bad time.’
‘I can imagine.’ His shock and grief must have been terrible.
‘Nick came home for a while, more to decide where his life went from that point than anything else, but Margaret was never off the doorstep. It must have driven him mad. It certainly drove him away,’ she added bitterly.
‘That’s a shame.’ He would have needed his family desperately.
‘Then, all of a sudden, she was off to university and seeing this boy and that. I mean she really put it around,’ Jenny said darkly. ‘She got a First, went on to greater and greater things, got married, then divorced, and we all thought she was over Nick. Then a couple of years ago she and Nick had a bit of a fling over the summer. Just a no strings attached type of affair. She actually told me herself that’s what they had decided. She’d got this terrific job at the university—I mean she’s brilliant, quite brilliant—and Nick’s always made it plain where he stands on commitment.’
Jenny stopped abruptly, looking at her anxiously.
‘It’s all right.’ Cory forced a smile. ‘He’s made it plain to me too.’
‘But since then she’s been…odd. She’s trying to get him back, I’d swear it.’ Jenny sighed deeply. ‘So just watch out for her, that’s all I’d say. I wouldn’t trust her an inch.’
‘You don’t like her.’ Cory stated the obvious.
‘Loathe her.’ Jenny shrugged. ‘But she’s Mum’s goddaughter and Mum likes her. Feels sorry for her a bit, I think. The thing is, if someone thinks your child is the bee’s knees you can’t help liking them, I suppose.’
Great. Had Nick’s mother always hoped he’d marry Margaret so everything in the garden would be hunkydory? If so, she’d view all his girlfriends as obstacles.
As Jenny bounced away to rescue Rod as the dance ended, Cory’s mouth drooped. She watched Jenny join Margaret and Rod, who were walking off the dance floor with Nick and his mother, and Catherine had one arm through Margaret’s and the other through Nick’s. It looked cosy. Natural. Happy families.
Nick’s eyes were searching the room and then as he saw her he lifted his hand and waved, leaving the others. She couldn’t see the expression on Catherine’s face as she was obscured by a young couple walking by, but Margaret looked straight at her, her eyes deadly.
Then Nick reached her, taking her in his arms as he murmured, ‘I’ve missed you. We’ve been apart for five whole minutes. Mum’s going now; come and say goodbye till tomorrow.’ All the family were going to Catherine’s for Sunday lunch.
For the next hour or so until the party finally broke up Cory said and did all the right things. She laughed and joked with the others, danced with Nick and avoided Margaret’s lethal green gaze.
On the way home she pleaded exhaustion when Nick asked her why she was so quiet, and, refusing a nightcap—which would be much more than a mere liqueur coffee if Nick’s smouldering gaze was anything to go by—went straight up to her room. And then regretted bitterly that she hadn’t stayed with him.
She sat down on the bed with a little sigh, feeling as flat as a pancake. Which was crazy when she thought about it because nothing had changed. Nick had said he loved her. Fine. He had probably loved all his women, or the longterm ones at least. She knew that, so what difference did it make if he and Margaret had slept together a couple of summers ago and Catherine Morgan would like her goddaughter as a daughter-in-law too? He wasn’t going to marry Margaret any more than he was going to marry her, so feeling upset and jealous and put-out was plain stupid.
It didn’t matter if she was here on sufferance as far as Nick’s mother was concerned. It didn’t matter that Margaret was far more a part of Nick’s life long-term than she was. It didn’t even matter that Margaret was going to be at Nick’s mother’s tomorrow where she’d no doubt be a limpet attached to his side.
None of it mattered. She burst into tears.
One good cry, a scrub of her face and a brush of her teeth later, Cory climbed into bed, the exhaustion she’d spoken of real. It had been a long day
after just a couple of hours’ sleep the night before. She was asleep as soon as her head touched the pillow.
CHAPTER EIGHT
A GOOD night’s sleep worked wonders. Cory awoke wide awake and alert—not a normal occurrence for her—at nine the next morning, and she was in a different frame of mind entirely. Climbing out of bed, she walked across and drew the curtains and immediately bright sunlight flooded the room. It was another gorgeous day. Flinging the windows wide, she leaned on the sill and breathed in the scent of the climbing roses beneath her, their heady, rich scent a wonderful start to the day.
She wasn’t going to let all this about Margaret get her down. She turned from the window, staring across the room. She wished she’d stayed downstairs with Nick last night but there you were, she hadn’t. She groaned softly. No use crying over spilt milk. But today was another day. And she was here in his home and Margaret wasn’t.
That was when the idea came to her. Nick had brought her tea in bed yesterday morning. OK, why didn’t she return the compliment? And once she was in his bedroom…
She hurried into the bathroom, had a quick shower and then brushed her hair until it shone with health. After putting a coat of mascara on her eyelashes and a dab of perfume behind each ear, she cleaned her teeth. She hoped he wasn’t up yet but they had been terribly late last night and it was a Sunday. He was probably still dead to the world.
Her nightie was a floaty negligée type which consisted of very little, another gift from her aunt a couple of Christmases ago. She knew it was one of those horribly expensive designer things but she had never worn it until this weekend. She considered herself critically in the mirror. What the transparent film did to her body would have been enough to make her love her aunt for life if she didn’t already.
Cory sped down to the kitchen with wings on her heels, hoping Nick wasn’t already there. He wasn’t. She made a pot of tea in record time, setting a tray with two cups and saucers, sugar bowl and milk jug, and adding a little plate of biscuits for good luck.
She had actually got to the door of the master suite when she stopped abruptly. What was she doing? Was this a good idea? She was going against all reason here. Hadn’t she told herself that if she once got totally involved with Nick it would be emotional suicide? What would she do when he left her? And one day he would leave her.
It was too late anyway. She answered herself with total honesty. She loved him. Utterly and absolutely. She wanted to be with him for as long as he would stay with her. It was as simple as that. It probably was the biggest mistake she would ever make in the overall scheme of things because she didn’t know how she’d survive when she had to do without him, but that was the future. This was the present. And the present was all that mattered.
She opened the door to the bedroom very quietly, tiptoeing into the room and over to the enormous bed. It was empty. She stared at it, utterly taken aback. And then she heard whistling in the bathroom.
Putting the tray on a small table which was half covered with Formula One magazines, she walked over to the bathroom door, which was open a chink. She didn’t think about what she was doing, she was just drawn there by an invisible cord.
Nick had obviously just stepped out of the shower and was drying himself down. He was nude. Cory’s heart did the sort of giant leap for mankind the astronauts had spoken of.
Six foot plus of lithe, tanned muscle and he was breathtaking, that was the only word for it. The wide shoulders and broad chest were strong and sinewy, his lean hips and hard buttocks unashamedly male. The hair on his chest narrowed to a thin line bisecting his flat stomach before forming a thick black mass wherein his masculinity stood out in startling white. He was a perfect specimen of manhood. A male in his prime.
Cory had stopped breathing. She was just looking. And looking. And then it dawned on her just what she was doing. Invading his privacy, spying on him, behaving like the worst sort of peeping Tom. What would she say if the tables were turned and she had caught him sneaking up on her?
She swallowed, panic rising up hot and strong as shame overwhelmed her. Stepping backwards, she stood trembling and weak, her cheeks flaming but her senses still stirred by the magnificence of him. She had to get out of here. She would die, die on the spot if he found her ogling him like a lovesick adolescent.
As the whistling stopped it prompted her to the door like a silent rocket and she shot along to her room with her feet hardly touching the ground. Once inside, she flung off the nightie, pulling on the first clothes which came to hand, which happened to be jeans and a T-shirt. Stopping just long enough to pull her hair back into a ponytail, she hightailed it back down to the kitchen.
She had to be cooking breakfast when he came down. He had to think she had just put the tray in his room and come down here. And then she groaned. Two cups. Two cups of tea on the tray. Well, she’d just say she thought he was probably thirsty in the mornings. She shut her eyes tightly. He would think she was mad but that was better than thinking she was some sort of sex-starved nymphomaniac!
She got busy cracking eggs into a bowl and putting bacon and tomatoes under the grill with a couple of minute steaks she found in the fridge. The toaster doing its job, the coffee pot bubbling and fresh juice on the table, she relaxed for a second. Her hands were shaking.
What had she been doing creeping about up there? That wasn’t her; she wasn’t like that. But that was the trouble, she didn’t know what she was like any more. Since she had met Nick her whole world had been turned upside down and she didn’t know if she was coming or going most of the time. And thinking she could seduce him with a flimsy nightie and a tray of tea! She groaned softly.
‘What’s the matter; are you feeling ill?’
She swung round, knocking a pile of toast on the floor in the process. ‘You made me jump,’ she said breathlessly, trying to see him as he was—clothed in jeans and a shirt—rather than stark naked.
‘Sorry, but you made a sound as though—’
‘I was thinking about a case I’m working on.’ She was lying more and more since she had met him too. She wasn’t even getting any better at it if the look on his face and his raised eyebrows were anything to go by.
‘Right.’ Thankfully he didn’t pursue the matter. ‘Do you want me to do the scrambled eggs because the bacon’s burning,’ he said helpfully.
‘Damn!’ She couldn’t even cook a simple breakfast now.
Between them they salvaged the bacon and cooked the eggs, and once they were sitting down Nick reached across and took her hand. ‘The tea in bed was nice of you,’ he said softly, ‘but I was hoping the other cup had been intended for you.’
Cory forced a brittle smile. ‘Of course it wasn’t.’ She knew her cheeks were fiery and hoped he’d put it down to the mad scramble with the food. ‘I wanted to cook breakfast for you. You did it yesterday, remember.’
‘So I did.’
‘And I thought we wouldn’t want to eat too late if we’re going to your mother’s for half-twelve.’
‘Quite right.’
‘So that’s why I got going on it.’
‘Yes, you don’t have to spell it out. I’ve got the idea.’
She was gabbling. She crammed a piece of bacon into her mouth to stop herself saying anything more. It was hot, burning hot. She spat it out as her tongue caught fire and then said, ‘I’m sorry, that’s awful, but it was hot and—’
‘Cory, have I missed something this morning?’
‘What?’ She stared at him, horrified. ‘What do you mean?’
‘You’re like a cat on a hot tin roof.’
She relaxed slightly. ‘It’s sleeping in a strange bed,’ she improvised hurriedly. ‘I never sleep well in a strange bed and then when I wake up I tend to be a bit…jumpy.’
‘Oh, I see.’ He took a bite of steak and chewed it slowly, swallowing before he said lazily, ‘I thought it was because you saw me in the shower.’
She stared at him, utterly bereft of words.
&n
bsp; ‘I didn’t mind,’ he added calmly, reaching for a slice of toast and spooning some scrambled egg on it. ‘In fact, I think I rather enjoyed it. Of course I’d have preferred you to stay, but by the time I came into the bedroom, you’d vanished.’
He knew. She prayed for the ground to open up and swallow her, or at least for her to be able to think of something to say rather than sitting staring at him with her mouth open like a stranded fish.
Eventually she managed to croak, ‘It’s not what you think.’
‘I don’t think anything.’ The blue eyes held hers and they were glittering with suppressed laughter. ‘This is an excellent steak, by the way. You’ve cooked it just how I like it.’
Blow the steak. Cory swallowed. ‘I thought I’d give you a cup of tea in bed as you’d brought me one yesterday,’ she said stiffly. ‘As I was leaving, the door was ajar and I just happened…’
‘Ah, I thought that might be the case.’
She stared at him. ‘You didn’t actually see me then?’
‘Of course not.’ He smiled serenely. ‘Do you think I wouldn’t have pulled you in there with me if I’d seen you?’
‘Then how…?’
‘The two cups of tea were something of a give-away.’ He was positively smug. ‘I just put two and two together.’
Cory called him a name which nice, well brought up ladies didn’t say—not often, anyway.
‘What’s the matter?’ He looked at her with an injured expression. ‘It was me in the nude, not you.’
‘I know that,’ she said through gritted teeth.
‘So why are you the one complaining?’
‘I’m not complaining,’ she said icily, her voice in stark contrast to her cheeks, which felt as though they were melting. ‘I just don’t like being tricked, that’s all.’
‘But if I hadn’t got it out of you you’d have been suffering a guilty conscience all day,’ he said with insufferable complacency. ‘This way we’ve cleared the air and everything is back to normal.’ He took another bite of toast as he added, ‘Did you like what you saw, by the way?’