Millionaire's Woman

by Helen Brooks

‘You sit by the fire and I’ll make it,’ he said promptly.

  ‘No, I’ll come with you. I need a chat with Bran.’

  ‘A fine thing,’ said Jack as they crossed the hall, ‘when a man is jealous of his own dog.’

  Kate chuckled. ‘He’s a very handsome chap.’

  Bran was wildly delighted to see them and after an interval of greeting and patting Kate perched on the table, swinging her feet, and Bran sat as near as he could get, gazing up at her in adoration.

  ‘Just a teabag in a mug will do,’ she told Jack as he filled the kettle. ‘Make it strong. I need it.’

  ‘I need something stronger than tea,’ he said with feeling. ‘I enjoyed my first shot at home entertaining, but next time I’ll ask a different pair to make up the six.’

  ‘You like Anna and Ben, then?’

  ‘I do, very much. Though I get the feeling that Anna would cut my liver out with a blunt spoon if I hurt you in any way. I assume she knows our past history?’

  ‘Afraid so.’

  ‘Including Dawn?’

  ‘Yes, but she won’t broadcast it.’

  ‘She doesn’t have to. The story of my marriage and divorce is well known.’

  ‘Do you mind?’

  ‘I was young enough to mind quite at lot at first, but I got over it.’ Jack turned to look at her. ‘Getting over you, Kate, was a damn sight harder. And my way of coping was a hard work no play lifestyle that did wonders for the company but nothing for me socially. At least,’ he added candidly, ‘not until we opened the London office. But that’s all in the past. From now on I’ll do more entertaining at home.’ He touched a hand to her cheek as he handed her the tea. ‘It felt so right to see you at the other end of my table, Katie.’

  She sipped carefully, trying to bypass the lump in her throat.

  ‘Did it feel right to you?’ he asked quietly.

  Kate looked up into his intent eyes. ‘Yes, Jack it did. But you can’t expect me to play hostess every time you entertain.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘I’m not getting into that kind of arrangement with you.’

  ‘You’re afraid of what people might think?’

  ‘I’m more concerned with what you might think, Jack.’ Kate put down her half empty mug and slid off the table. ‘Time I went home.’

  Jack caught her by the elbow, his touch burning through the velvet. ‘Stay.’

  ‘No,’ she said flatly.

  ‘I meant long enough to drink your tea,’ he said impatiently. ‘Come and sit by the fire for a few minutes. Bran can come as chaperon if you like.’

  ‘Jack, I want to go home,’ she said with such vehemence that he released her and went from the room. She pushed a hand through her hair, blinking hard, and crossed the room to tear a sheet from a roll of paper kitchen towel.

  ‘Katie!’ said Jack behind her.

  She buried her face in the paper towel, but he took her by the shoulders and turned her round until her face was against his shirt. Jack smoothed a hand over her hair and held her until the tears stopped He left her for a moment, then put his arms round her again.

  At last she drew away and scrubbed the sodden paper over her face. ‘Sorry,’ she said thickly.

  ‘So am I. I can’t handle it when you cry.’ Jack smoothed a strand of damp hair from her forehead. ‘I’ve brought your things if you really must go now.’

  ‘Right.’ She sniffed inelegantly. ‘Where’s Bran?’

  ‘He couldn’t handle it either. I put him in the boot room.’

  Kate looked up at Jack in remorse. ‘Poor Bran.’

  ‘Not poor Jack?’

  ‘That, too—sorry about your shirt,’ she added hoarsely, eyeing the mascara streaks and sodden patches on his chest.

  ‘The shirt will wash.’ Jack took her hand. ‘Stay until you feel better, Kate. I’ll make more tea, and we’ll take Bran in by the fire until you’re in good enough shape to drive home.’

  ‘All right,’ she said listlessly. ‘But I’ll just wash my face first.’

  A few minutes later, curled up in a corner of the sofa with Bran at her feet and a fresh mug of tea steaming at her elbow, Kate felt a little better. Jack settled beside her to finish his brandy, long legs stretched out in front of him.

  ‘I can guess why you cried,’ he said quietly.

  She gave him a narrowed, sidelong glance. ‘Can you?’

  ‘I could have cried myself. This was how it should have been all along, the two of us as a couple, entertaining friends to dinner. And it’s how it would have been if I hadn’t made such a hellish mess of things.’ He turned to her in sudden urgency. ‘But it could be like that in future. I want you back, Kate. I’ve tried to be patient, not rush things, but we’ve wasted so much of our lives already.’

  ‘No!’ Kate tore her eyes away from the demand in Jack’s, and shook her head. ‘One can’t go back.’

  ‘But you did come back,’ he said quickly, his eyes triumphant. ‘And you knew from the magazine article that I was still here.’

  ‘Also still married, as far as I knew,’ she reminded him. ‘But the fact that you’re single again doesn’t change anything. It would be disastrous for us to get back together.’

  ‘Why?’ he demanded.

  ‘First and last and most important, I have responsibility for Joanna.’ Kate turned her head and met his eyes. ‘And secondly, Jack, I’m not the girl who was so hopelessly in love with you all those years ago. We’re both responsible adults now, so if you want me as a friend, fine. But I don’t want you as a lover.’

  Jack’s eyes turned to steel. ‘I don’t believe that. Last night your body responded to me just the way it used to—until your mind slammed on the brakes.’

  ‘That was chemistry. It doesn’t mean anything. You could always make me respond, Jack.’ Her mouth tightened. ‘You obviously had the same effect on Dawn.’

  ‘Which is the real obstacle,’ he said harshly.

  ‘Only one of the many.’ Kate stood up. ‘Time I went home. Where did you put my boots?’

  ‘In the kitchen. I’ll fetch them.’

  Kate bent to stroke the dog, blinking when she felt tears threaten again. She was tired, that was all. She’d been a fool to finish painting today after a virtually sleepless night. And, though she’d enjoyed the evening in some ways, in others it had been a strain, due partly to Lucy Beresford and her sniping, but not entirely. Jack was right. At the dinner table she had felt regret for what might have been. She sighed, and as though tuned in to her mood, Bran got up to push his head against her thigh in comfort.

  When Jack returned he waited in silence while she changed her shoes, then held her raincoat for her and went through the hall to open the main door. He frowned at the sheeting rain, but before he could put up the golf umbrella his phone rang, and he closed the door on the deluge to answer it.

  ‘No, Ben, she was just leaving.’ He listened intently for a moment, looking at Kate. ‘Sounds bad. I’ll hand you over. You’d better tell her yourself.’

  Kate snatched the phone from him. ‘Ben! Is something wrong with Anna?’

  ‘No, love, nothing like that. She’s worried to death about you. Thank God you haven’t left yet. The roads are flooded pretty much all the way from Mill House in to town. We only just made it home in George’s Range Rover, so you wouldn’t have a hope in your car—’ He broke off. ‘Hang on, Kate, Anna wants a word.’

  ‘Tell Jack either he must drive you or you stay the night,’ said Anna fiercely. ‘Don’t even think of trying to drive yourself. Lucy had hysterics when we hit the first flood water, so I had to take over.’

  ‘But you’re pregnant!’

  ‘There were loads of police about and the men were over the limit, so there was no choice. It was a slow journey, but with Ben as co-driver I was fine. But that was in a four wheel drive, Kate. Let me talk to Jack.’

  ‘Anna—’

  ‘No arguing; hand the phone back.’

  Kate gave Jack the phone a
nd stood watching his face as he spoke to Anna. At last he said goodnight and snapped the phone shut.

  ‘I’m sorry, Kate. I can’t drive you as I’m already over the limit.’ He gave a wry shrug. ‘No help for it, I’m afraid. You’ll have to spend the night in my guest room.’

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  KATE’S first instinct was to refuse point blank. Then common sense kicked in. It was her only option.‘ Thank you,’ she said reluctantly. ‘Sorry to be a nuisance.’

  ‘Not at all,’ said Jack politely. ‘I’ll show you where to sleep.’ He ordered Bran to his bed, and opened the door into the hall.

  In silence Kate followed him up the white-painted staircase to a room no bigger than her bedroom in Park Crescent. The furniture was plain and contemporary, and the curtains and bedcovers were white but, unlike the rest of the house, the room was painted a creamy shade of yellow.

  ‘Attractive,’ said Kate, so tired by this time she could hardly stand straight.

  ‘Sherbet,’ said Jack.

  She stared at him blankly.

  ‘You’re up on paint colours, Kate. This is Sherbet.’

  ‘Oh, right.’

  ‘The bathroom—a very small one, is behind the door over there,’ he informed her. ‘I hope you sleep well.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  Jack said goodnight and closed the door and, with a sigh Kate collected some hangers from the wardrobe and went into the bathroom. It was small, as Jack warned, but wonderfully warm and fully equipped with everything a guest could need, best of all a towelling dressing gown. She undressed hurriedly and got into it, then hung her suit and camisole on the shower rail, rinsed out her underwear and arranged it on the radiator. She was squeezing toothpaste on to a brand-new toothbrush when Jack knocked on the bedroom door.

  Kate opened it to find him holding out one of his white T-shirts.

  ‘I thought you might need this.’

  ‘Thank you. I borrowed the dressing gown,’ she added unnecessarily.

  ‘So I see. Goodnight again.’

  ‘Goodnight, Jack.’

  Kate brushed her teeth, washed her face again, and did what she could with her hair. At last, almost dizzy with nervous strain and fatigue, she turned back the bedcovers, took off the dressing gown and laid it on a chair. She pulled the big T-shirt over her head and turned off the bedside lamps, then slid thankfully into bed. Bed and breakfast after all, was her last waking thought.

  She woke with a start, face wet and heart pounding at the sound of Jack’s frantic voice as he shook her gently. Her eyes widened in horror as she took in her surroundings. She was downstairs in the hall and Bran was barking frantically somewhere. Oh, God, she thought. Not now, not here!

  ‘I’m so s-sorry,’ she said through chattering teeth.

  Jack slid out of his dressing gown, his face haggard as he wrapped it round her. ‘Put that on while I sort the dog out. Don’t move an inch until I get back.’

  Kate tied the cord with shaking hands and found a handkerchief in one of the dressing gown pockets. She mopped her face and had composed herself slightly by the time Jack came back.

  ‘I left my bedroom door ajar, which is why I heard you crying,’ he said grimly. ‘You scared the hell out of me when I found you halfway down the stairs. But when you looked right through me my hair really stood on end. Tears were streaming down your face but your eyes were totally blank. Once I realised you were sleepwalking I was afraid to wake you, so I went down beside you, step by step, ready to grab you if you fell.’

  ‘I never fall,’ she said hoarsely.

  Jack’s eyes narrowed. ‘You do this often?’

  ‘Occasionally, in times of stress.’ She shrugged. ‘It’s my own fault. I hardly slept last night after—after you left,and then I worked all day to finish painting. I was tired even before I arrived. Lucy was bitchy, and I got uptight with you over times past and on top of that I couldn’t go home because of the floods and—’She hesitated, biting her lip.

  ‘And the final straw was spending the night in Bluebeard’s castle. So in your subconscious you tried to escape,’ said Jack grimly.

  She shook her head. ‘It’s nothing to do with this house, Jack, or escape.’

  ‘When did the sleepwalking start?’

  ‘Ages ago. But by the time I moved in with Anna I was more or less over it.’

  His face hardened into bitter lines. ‘But one hour in bed in my house and you wanted out.’

  Kate’s teeth began to chatter, and Jack’s eyes darkened with contrition. ‘You’re freezing. I’ll get you back to bed, then make you some more tea. Give me your hand.’

  She let him lead her up the stairs, feeling contrite herself when she realised that Jack’s only garment was a pair of boxers. ‘You must be cold, too.’

  ‘Only with fright.’ He took in a deep breath. ‘Once my pulse rate drops below a hundred again I’ll be fine.’

  When they reached the spare room Jack switched on the light and stared at the bed. The quilt and pillows were on the floor, the fitted bottom sheets snarled in a crumpled heap, and he swore under his breath when he picked up the pillows.

  ‘When you cry you really cry. These are damp.’ He turned to her and undid the dressing gown to touch the T-shirt. ‘Hell, this is, too. I’ll bring you another one with the clean sheets—’ He stopped suddenly and shot her a look. ‘Are you likely to do this again tonight?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said miserably.

  ‘Have you done any sleepwalking in Park Crescent?’

  ‘No.’ Not yet.

  He looked at her searchingly. ‘Did it start when we broke up? Is that why you won’t let me get close again?’

  ‘Part of it.’ She shrugged. ‘Stress acts in different ways on different people—migraine, anxiety attacks and so on. In my case it’s sleepwalking. But I hadn’t done it for years until Liz and Robert were killed. Then I had the row with Rupert and it happened again.’

  ‘And I caused this tonight by pestering you to come back to me,’ Jack said harshly. He picked up the towelling dressing gown and held it out. ‘Go in the bathroom and put this on while I strip the bed. You need sleep.’

  Kate splashed cold water on her swollen eyes, then went back into the bedroom.

  Jack looked up from the linen he was bundling together, his eyes strained. ‘I hope to God you don’t go walkabout again.’

  ‘If I could promise not to, I would,’ she said unhappily. ‘I hate doing it, Jack. Waking up somewhere else is pretty scary, believe me.’

  ‘I do.’ He stood very still, every muscle in his bare chest taut, then pulled on the dressing gown and tied the cord with unnecessary force. ‘There’s a remedy. For tonight, at least.’

  ‘Knockout drops?’ she said, trying to smile.

  ‘No.’ Jack eyed her in appeal.‘ Look, Kate, I make this offer with the best of intentions, so don’t panic. Come and sleep in my room. That way we might both get some sleep. At least I’d know if you took off again.’ He smiled a little. ‘I promise faithfully to keep to my side of the bed. It’s big enough to sleep four at a pinch, so no problem with over-crowding.’

  Not trusting her voice, she nodded slowly in assent.

  The master bedroom was at the other end of the upper corridor and the bed was vast, as Jack had promised. He turned back the covers on the far side, told her to get in, then searched in a chest between the tall windows. He tossed a thick white sweatshirt on the bed for her, then made for the door.

  ‘Where are you going?’ she demanded.

  ‘To make you that tea. You’re shivering, Kate. For God’s sake, get into bed and try to get warm.’

  Kate took off the dressing gown, pulled on the warm fleecy shirt, and slid under the covers, teeth chattering. This was probably a big mistake, but it was better than waking up in some other part of the house again, scaring Jack and waking Bran into the bargain.

  Jack came back with a tray and put it on the chest. He ordered Kate to sit up, propped pillows behi
nd her and then brought her a mug of tea. ‘I added a spoonful of something medicinal,’ he told her. ‘We need it.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, subdued, and sipped gratefully, feeling the warmth spread through her as the brandy and scalding tea did their work. When Jack slid in beside her with his own drink she shot him a rueful glance. ‘One way and another, you won’t forget your first official dinner party.’

  ‘True.’ He grinned suddenly. ‘If Lucy Beresford could only see us now!’

  ‘She’d be wild with jealousy.’

  ‘But certainly wouldn’t picture us drinking tea together! You’d better look out, Kate. I think she’s also jealous of your relationship with Anna Maitland,’ he warned.

  She pulled a face. ‘I’ll watch my back on two counts, then.’

  ‘If she gives you any trouble, let me know,’ said Jack grimly. ‘I’ll get George to sort her out. He may look easygoing but there’s steel underneath that sense of humour.’

  ‘I saw that for myself. I like him.’

  ‘You like Ben Maitland, too.’

  ‘I do. From the first day Anna introduced me to him I felt I’d known him all my life,’ Kate explained. ‘And he’s great with Joanna. She adores them both, and she’s thrilled to bits about the baby.’

  ‘Ben’s a lucky man,’ said Jack, and took her mug away. ‘Time you went to sleep, Kate.’

  ‘It seems hardly worth it.’

  ‘A couple of hours’ rest would do you good, so I’m putting out the light.’

  ‘Goodnight then, Jack. And thank you.’

  ‘No thanks necessary. Now give me your hand and try to relax.’

  Kate did as he said and slid down in the bed, smiling when she found there was almost a foot of space between them. But the hard, warm grasp of Jack’s outstretched hand gave her such a sense of security she felt herself relax, muscle by muscle, as she slid into mercifully dreamless sleep.

  CHAPTER NINE

  KATE woke slowly to pale daylight filtering below the Roman blinds and the discovery that Jack was close against her, his arm heavy on her waist. At some point in the night he’d moved close, holding her spoon fashion. She could feel his breath on her neck and kept perfectly still until a slight movement told her Jack was awake. She smiled to herself. It was a new experience to wake up with him like this. In their youth their sessions in bed had been all too brief, and never over-night.