A Forbidden Temptation

by Anne Mather

  That was how he’d ended up at a strange pub. But the relief he’d been seeking wasn’t there. All he’d found was a curdling stomach and a pounding head. And more self-disgust than he could cope with.

  The sudden switching on of a light bewildered him.

  He was halfway up the stairs and he groped weakly for the banister, clinging to the wood for dear life.

  ‘Dammit, Lisa,’ he swore, even though she’d never accomplished such a thing before. ‘Give me a break!’

  ‘Oh, Jack!’

  The sympathetic voice was both familiar and unfamiliar. And when he looked up it was to find Debra Carrick standing at the top of the stairs, her hand still on the switch.

  ‘Oh, Jack,’ she said again, wrapping the folds of her cotton dressing gown more closely about her plump little body. ‘I thought you came here to get over Lisa. But it sounds to me as if it isn’t working.’

  Jack groaned.

  This was all he needed. Lisa’s little sister come to help him lick his wounds.

  Wounds he no longer had, he realised belatedly. Even without what had happened between him and Grace, the pain he’d felt when Lisa died had—like his late wife—passed away.

  ‘I’m good, Debs,’ he assured his sister-in-law firmly, straightening away from the banister.

  Or he would be, once he’d closed his bedroom door.

  ‘But you were calling for Lisa,’ she protested. ‘I heard you.’ Her eyes grew misty. ‘I told your mother you’d welcome some company despite what you said.’

  Jack blew out a breath.

  Was there any point in denying he’d used Lisa’s name?

  ‘You’re imagining things,’ he said. And then, in an attempt to divert her, ‘Anyway, what are you doing here?’ His brows drew together in sudden confusion. ‘How the hell did you get in?’

  ‘Oh—some woman was still here when I arrived,’ declared Debra easily. ‘I think she said her name was Honeyman. Is that right?’

  ‘Mrs Honeyman, yes.’ Jack frowned. ‘But she usually leaves at midday.’

  ‘She did.’ Debra started down the stairs towards him and Jack was obliged to back up himself to avoid her. ‘I’ve been here since about half past eleven. I flew into Newcastle this morning and got a taxi from the airport to the house.’

  Jack, who had been backing down the stairs, reached the bottom without warning. The sudden impact caused him to stagger a little and Debra hurried down the last few stairs to wrap her arms about his waist.

  ‘It’s okay,’ she said, as if he were some child in danger of falling. And then the alcohol on his breath caused her to step back in dismay.

  ‘You’ve been drinking,’ she exclaimed. ‘Oh, Jack, I’m so glad I didn’t take your mother’s advice and stay away.’

  You should have done!

  The words hovered on Jack’s tongue, but he didn’t utter them. Extricating himself from lingering fingers, he turned rather desperately towards the kitchen.

  His mother should have phoned, he thought. She should have warned him Debra was coming. Instead of leaving him to deal with a female who evidently thought he was in danger of falling apart.

  ‘D’you want coffee?’ he asked.

  ‘At this time of night?’ Debra had followed him into the kitchen, and Jack quickly put the island between them. ‘Oughtn’t you to have something to eat?’

  ‘I’m not hungry.’

  In actual fact, Jack hadn’t had anything to eat since breakfast. And right now, the thought of food nauseated him. But however unwelcome her arrival, Debra was a guest, and he was obliged to make the requisite response.

  ‘Have you eaten?’

  ‘Oh, yes.’ Debra nodded. ‘Mrs Honeyman made me some soup at lunchtime. And she said to tell you, she’s left a steak pie in the fridge.’ She shrugged. ‘I hope you don’t mind, I made myself an omelette at dinner time. I suppose I could have cooked the pie, but I didn’t know what time you’d be back.’

  Jack nodded. Knowing Mrs Honeyman as he did, he doubted she’d have been best pleased to find they had an unexpected visitor.

  Jack switched the coffee on and then turned to prop his hips rather wearily against the dishwasher.

  ‘So,’ he said, when she was unexpectedly silent. ‘Come on, Debs. Why are you here?’

  Debra’s lips, a fuller version of her sister’s, pursed defensively. ‘I should have thought that was obvious,’ she said, her expression showing she’d been hurt by the question. ‘We’re all worried about you.’

  Jack sighed. ‘Who’s we?’

  ‘Your father, your mother.’ She hesitated before adding, ‘Francis.’

  Jack sighed. ‘You’re wrong, Debs.’ He shook his head. ‘Ma and Pa aren’t worried about me. They know I’m happy here, doing what I want, making a life for myself somewhere new and different. And as for Francis...’ his brother ‘...he’s a priest. He doesn’t have time to worry about me.’

  ‘Maeve, then,’ retorted Debra tartly. ‘Did you know she’s pregnant? Again?’

  Jack hid a grin.

  ‘I think you’ve answered your own question there, Debs. My sister has a husband and two little girls to care about. Not to mention a new baby on the way. If her brother is too...bullheaded...or too selfish to keep in touch with her, she probably thinks he doesn’t deserve her.’

  ‘You know she doesn’t think like that.’

  ‘I know.’

  Jack knew that was true. Despite the distance between them, they’d always been a close family. Always there for each other when they were needed.

  But Debra wasn’t family. Not really. And he suspected Debra’s reasons for coming here weren’t entirely disinterested.

  ‘Anyway,’ he said, turning to pour himself a mug of coffee, ‘shouldn’t you be in school?’

  Debra snorted. ‘I’m at college, Jack.’ She was indignant. ‘And it’s summer break, as if you didn’t know.’

  Jack stifled a groan.

  ‘So—what?’ he said, turning back, deciding to take his coffee black to try to clear his head. ‘Is this the start of a European tour?’

  ‘No!’ Debra stared at him impatiently. ‘I’ve just told you, I’ve come to look after you, Jack. I’m sure you’re not looking after yourself properly.’

  Jack blew on his coffee before taking an unwary gulp. It was much too hot and it burned his mouth, but at least the pain achieved what a gallon of alcohol couldn’t.

  ‘You can’t stay here, Debs,’ he said, trying to sound mature and reasonable.

  But for pity’s sake, he didn’t want to be accused of taking advantage of a young girl. He had enough on his conscience as it was.

  Debra looked shocked now. ‘Why can’t I stay here?’ she exclaimed indignantly. ‘You need someone, Jack. Someone who knows you and cares about you.’

  ‘No.’ Jack was adamant. ‘No, I don’t.’ He paused and then added as gently as he could, ‘It would be different if we were related. But we’re not. And can you imagine what people would say if they found out I was living with an attractive young female like yourself?’

  Debra’s expression softened. ‘Do you think I’m attractive, Jack?’

  Jack blew out a weary breath.

  ‘Of course I think you’re attractive,’ he said. But when she would have moved towards him, he held up a hand to stop her. ‘But you’re Lisa’s little sister, Debs. I’m sorry. You’ll never mean more to me than that.’

  Debra looked sulky now. ‘How do you know?’

  ‘I just do.’

  ‘And since when have you cared what people think?’ she persisted, trying another approach. ‘Lisa said you never listened to gossip.’

  ‘I don’t—’

  ‘Then—’

  ‘But other people do,’ finished Jack flatly.
‘Come on, Debs. It’s not the end of the world. I can’t believe you came all this way just to tell me you cared about me.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because—well, because you’re too young, for one thing. And what about that boy you were seeing in Kilpheny? Wasn’t his name Brendan or something?’

  ‘Brendan Foyle,’ agreed Debra, plucking at the ends of her belt. ‘But like you said, he’s just a boy. I’m not interested in boys!’

  Jack felt horribly old suddenly.

  He was tired and the last thing he needed was to have to deal with a lovesick adolescent. Debra was—what? Nineteen? Twenty? Her parents should have had more sense than to let her come here.

  ‘I think I ought to give your mother a call in the morning and tell her you’re on your way home,’ he said at last.

  But Debra looked horrified at this suggestion.

  ‘Mummy doesn’t know I’m here,’ she exclaimed. ‘Nor does Daddy. I told them I was going to stay with your parents. I was going to tell them where I really was in a few days.’

  ‘Well, now you won’t have to,’ said Jack reasonably. ‘If you get a flight back to Dublin in the morning, they need never know you’ve been here. And I’m sure Ma and Pa will be only too happy to see you.’ He crossed his fingers as he said this. ‘And Maeve, too. I dare say she’d be glad of a babysitter.’

  Debra looked mutinous. ‘You don’t care about me at all, do you? I’m just a nuisance, turning up like this. Well, I was going to tell you something that might make you feel a bit better, but now I don’t think I will.’

  Jack shook his head. ‘I doubt if anything you told me could make me feel better,’ he said bitterly.

  After the day he’d had, even being told he’d won the lottery wouldn’t cut it.

  ‘It was about Lisa.’

  Debra clearly had no intention of keeping the information to herself.

  But did Jack really want to hear it?

  ‘So—what about Lisa?’ he asked at last, realising Debra wasn’t about to go to bed without delivering her message. ‘If it’s something to do with the accident, I’d really rather not hear another version of how it was all her fault—’

  ‘She wasn’t alone,’ said Debra impulsively, and Jack could only stare at her with uncomprehending eyes.

  ‘What do you mean, she wasn’t alone? Of course she was alone. My God, didn’t I have to listen to all that testimony at the inquest? The details of how they’d found only one person’s remains in the ashes of the car? Don’t you think they’d have told me if there’d been more than one fatality? For God’s sake, Debra, your sister’s dead. Leave it be.’

  ‘She wasn’t alone,’ persisted Debra doggedly. ‘You can rail at me all you want, but I’m not lying.’ She licked her lips. ‘The man—the man she was with was thrown clear. Just like that sandal they found that belonged to Lisa.’ She took a deep breath. ‘She was having an affair, Jack. And I thought you deserved to know the truth.’

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  A WEEK LATER, Grace got a phone call from Sean.

  It was five weeks since she’d seen him; five weeks since he’d returned to London, ostensibly to set up the website Jack Connolly had invested in.

  Grace had spent part of the time looking for an apartment in Rothburn. She could have got one in Alnwick easily enough, but she wanted to be near her parents if they needed her.

  That part of her reason for moving north hadn’t changed. Even if so much else in her life had.

  Unfortunately, she hadn’t been successful. Apartments in Rothburn were hard to find. And she’d had to contend with both her mother and her father assuring her that she could stay at the pub for the foreseeable future. They’d even talked about adding a small extension if the deal her father had with Sean was a success.

  For her part, Grace had been in no hurry to hear from him again, unless it was to say he had managed to recover her parents’ investment. Goodness knew the money Jack had given him would have gone a long way to repaying the mortgage on the pub. But she could have hardly said that to him without sounding as if she wanted a share.

  And she really didn’t want to be in Jack’s debt.

  She hadn’t heard from Jack in the past week, either. But that hadn’t surprised her. Despite the thrill the memory of that scene on the beach still caused, common sense told her that entertaining any real feelings for a man who was still mourning the death of his wife was plain stupid.

  Besides, she was kidding herself if she thought he cared about her. If he’d had any respect for her feelings, he’d never have seduced her when he believed she was still involved with Sean.

  But had she given him a choice?

  How tempted she’d been to tell Jack the truth about her and Sean’s relationship. To admit that the man was selfish, egotistical, that he’d lied about everything she’d ever believed about him.

  She would have liked to tell Jack about the so-called business trips abroad that Sean had said would advance his knowledge of computer gaming. That it was only by chance that she’d discovered his latest trip to Las Vegas had not been made alone.

  He’d been stringing her a line, and she’d been too stupid—or too naïve—to realise it. It wasn’t until she’d actually found him in bed with one of her girlfriends that she’d realised he’d been using her, just as he’d used everyone else.

  That was when she’d told him she was going back to Rothburn. She couldn’t go on living with a man who had no respect for her at all. He’d objected, of course, and when his pleas for her forgiveness had come to nothing, he’d threatened to tell her parents that he was broke.

  That news had sickened her. Despite her contempt for the way he’d behaved, she’d still believed he was trying to get his business off the ground. He’d insisted that he was still making progress, but learning that he’d spent her parents’ money as well as hers was devastating.

  Consequently, she couldn’t explain why she didn’t break up with Sean without admitting how her father had been cheated. And with her mother only now recovering from what might have been a terminal illness, how could she risk Tom Spencer finding out?

  Just recently, her father had actually asked when she thought Sean might start making some money from his investment, and Grace had had to bite her tongue and admit she didn’t know.

  No, although she’d cried herself to sleep some nights, she’d decided it was safer to stick to her original plan and avoid all complications. Telling Jack her troubles would sound too much like hitting on him herself.

  It was early evening when the phone rang.

  She’d taken to turning off her mobile phone when she got home in the evenings, so it was the phone just outside the bar that her father answered.

  ‘It’s Sean,’ he said, and, although her heart sank, she could tell he was pleased. ‘He says he can’t get you on your mobile, and I explained you’d probably left it upstairs and couldn’t hear it.’ He gestured towards the hall behind him. ‘Go on. Ask him when we’re going to see him.’

  Not soon, thought Grace bitterly. She could imagine he’d spent the past five weeks spending Jack’s money. Was he broke again? Was that why he was calling her? If only she could shut him out of her life.

  ‘What does he want?’ she asked, and her father looked scandalised.

  ‘I didn’t ask him,’ he said shortly. ‘It’s you he wants to speak to, not me.’

  ‘Well, I don’t want to speak to him,’ she muttered, but her father heard her.

  ‘You don’t mean that,’ he said. ‘Besides, he may have some good news about the website.’

  As always, her father believed everything Sean said.

  ‘Anyway...’ Tom Spencer scowled ‘...I hope your attitude towards Sean isn’t because of that man, Connolly.’ He snorted. ‘He’s not interested in you, Grace.
Apart from the fact that he’s just lost his wife, the kind of money he’s got to play around with, he won’t be staying around here long. We’re far too countrified for him.’

  ‘Gee, thanks!’

  Grace was hurt that her father could dismiss her so easily. Hurt, too, that he didn’t think she had it in her to attract a man like Jack.

  She wondered what he’d say if she told him she’d already had sex with Jack. It would certainly prove she wasn’t the small-town innocent he was trying to imply.

  Unfortunately, it might also prove that she’d learned nothing from her relationship with Sean, she reflected dourly. But she wished he and her mother would stop trying to push her into Sean’s arms.

  ‘You know what I mean,’ her father said now, evidently regretting his candour. ‘I just don’t want you to get hurt.’

  ‘You don’t think Sean might have hurt me, do you? What if I told you Sean already had hurt me? How would you feel about that?’

  ‘I’d say it was just a misunderstanding,’ averred Mr Spencer, turning away with some relief when a customer snagged his attention. ‘Anyway,’ he added, taking a glass from the shelf above his head, ‘go and have a word with him. I’ve told him you’re here, so I can’t go and lie to him, can I?’

  ‘You could,’ muttered Grace as she reluctantly passed through the door into the hall of the pub. ‘But you won’t,’ she added, grudgingly picking up the phone.

  ‘Say what?’ Sean had evidently heard her grumbling to herself but hadn’t been able to distinguish the words. ‘Is that you, baby?’

  Grace wasn’t in the mood to be amenable. ‘What do you want, Sean? I thought we’d said all there was to say the last time you were here.’

  ‘Don’t be like that, Grace.’ Sean sounded hurt, but she wasn’t falling for that. ‘Come on, sweetheart. Haven’t you missed me just the tiniest little bit?’

  ‘Uh—no.’ Grace was candid. ‘Why don’t you tell me what you want? You didn’t ring to ask about my health.’

  ‘Well, no.’ Sean went silent for a moment, and then he said carefully, ‘I’ve got Jack’s financial advisor on my back. He wants to know why I haven’t sent him a copy of the contract yet.’