A Passionate Affair

by Anne Mather

  It sounded abominably smug, but he seemed not to take offence, and the arrival of the waiter with their soup prevented any further intimate conversation. Much to her relief, the next twenty minutes were taken up in this way and Cassandra was free to concentrate on the meal and evade any further searching questions. But, inevitably, after she had refused a dessert, coffee was served, and gaining her permission to light a long, narrow cheroot, Jay resumed his cross-examination.

  ‘Suppose,’ he said, attracting her unwilling attention, ‘suppose I wanted to make it your concern; the way I conduct my affairs, I mean.’ His eyes narrowed, dark and sensual between the thick lashes. ‘Does it matter to you how many women there’ve been in my life?’

  ‘I—why—–’ Cassandra controlled her colour with the greatest difficulty. ‘Mr Ravek—–’

  ‘Jay!’

  ‘—are you trying to insult me?’

  ‘No.’ He rested his elbows on the table. ‘Why should you think that?’

  Cassandra moistened her lips. ‘Perhaps I’m out of touch—–’

  ‘But not out of reach?’

  ‘Mr Ravek—–’

  ‘Mrs Roland?’ His eyes were mocking her now. ‘You’re an intriguing lady. I can’t make up my mind whether you want to go to bed with me or not, and if the answer is no, what the hell am I doing here?’

  Cassandra remained in her seat mainly because she doubted her legs would carry her across the room. But her face was red with embarrassment now, and anger at his outrageous statement far outweighed the attraction she had felt towards him.

  ‘Do you only take a female out to lunch if you think she wants to go to bed with you?’ she demanded, in a low angry voice, and his mocking smile briefly lit the dark contours of his face.

  ‘In these circumstances, is it so surprising?’ he countered, drawing on his cheroot. ‘Don’t look so shocked, Mrs Roland. It’s a little late for that, don’t you think?’

  Cassandra could only assume the worst. Obviously, he believed she had been warned about him, but had chosen to ignore the warning; and in essence it was true. But she had not truly taken everything Liz had told her as gospel, and in consequence, she was left to face this humiliating confrontation unprepared.

  ‘I think I’d like to leave now, Mr Ravek,’ she declared stiffly, glancing round, as if she hoped some stalwart knight in shining armour might come and rescue her. ‘You’ve had your fun. Could you please ask the waiter to call a taxi for me.’

  ‘That won’t be necessary.’ With an abrupt movement, he thrust back his chair and got to his feet.

  His action brought the waiter to his side, and while he was attending to the bill, Cassandra took the opportunity to escape. She had no desire to drive back to the office with him, but when he emerged from the building, he found her thwarted, on the car park.

  ‘I’d prefer to take a cab,’ she declared, when he appeared, but Jay only moved his shoulders in an indifferent gesture.

  ‘But as you can see, there aren’t any,’ he observed, his dark gaze sweeping the car park. ‘Come on, I’ll take you back. You can warm your cold feet in the Ferrari.’

  Cassandra’s blood boiled. ‘You’re despicable!’

  ‘Yes, so I’ve been told,’ he agreed, without rancour. ‘Now, stop looking so outraged, and get in the car. Believe me, my ardour has been satisfactorily doused.’

  If she hadn’t felt so furious with him, Cassandra knew she could have seen the funny side of this. The trouble was, in spite of everything, he was still the most disturbing man she had ever met, and if he had not made her feel so insignificant, she might well have given into his sensual attraction.

  To her relief, Chris had not returned when she got back to the office, and glancing at her watch she was amazed to discover it was only a little over an hour since she had left. Somehow it had seemed so much longer than that, and her face was still burning as she seated herself at her desk.

  Jay had not spoken on the journey back to the studio, and after depositing her in Chandler Mews, he had driven away without a backward glance. She wondered what he was thinking, what interpretation he had put on her behaviour, and wished she understood herself what it was she really wanted.

  By the time Chris came back, she had herself reasonably in control, but the bright flags of colour in her cheeks attracted his attention.

  ‘You look busy,’ he remarked, no doubt imagining the heat she was displaying was due to honest toil. ‘Didn’t you go and get a sandwich? Don’t start missing meals. You’re just beginning to lose that lean and hungry look.’

  ‘Well, thanks!’ Cassandra tried to adopt a humorous tone. ‘I’ll bear that in mind when I’m tipping the scales.’

  ‘There’s no fear of you doing that,’ he retorted, lighting the inevitable cigarette. But then, with unexpected perception, he added: ‘You haven’t been having a fight with somebody, have you? You look a bit hot and bothered.’

  ‘I forgot to open the windows,’ replied Cassandra, hiding behind the hornrims of her spectacles. ‘Did you have a pleasant time at the Black Swan? I don’t know how you can eat pies every day of the week.’

  ‘Oh, I vary them with sandwiches,’ Chris answered airily, taking his seat and picking up his pencil. ‘And if you’d ever tasted June’s cooking, I guarantee you’d welcome the change.’

  Cassandra’s laughter was not forced. ‘You exaggerate,’ she exclaimed. ‘Nowadays, anybody can learn to defrost a beefburger or put a tray of chips in the oven.’

  ‘Want to bet?’ Chris grinned across at her. ‘So—why don’t you invite me round to your flat and show me how a proper meal should taste?’

  Cassandra looked at him for a moment, then shook her head, bending over her desk. ‘You’d better finish off that layout for the kitchen,’ she said, avoiding any further complications. ‘I want to drive down to the house tomorrow afternoon, and I’d like to take the designs with me.’

  ‘Okay.’

  Chris shrugged, taking his dismissal without rancour. They had had many such exchanges since they began to work together, and so far Cassandra had found no difficulty in keeping their relationship on an impersonal basis. But she couldn’t help wondering how he would react if she told him what Jay Ravek had said to her, and while the inclination to avail herself of his sympathy was attractive, she knew she could be inviting a far more explosive situation.

  The telephone rang in the middle of the afternoon and she let Chris answer it, stiffening when he held the receiver out to her. ‘That man,’ he mouthed, frowning at her look of consternation. ‘You know—the accountant I told you rang this morning.’

  ‘Oh!’ Cassandra’s sigh of relief aroused a look of curiosity in Chris’s eyes, but he said nothing, just handed over the receiver, and resumed his calculations as she spoke into the mouthpiece.

  ‘Mrs Roland?’ Paul Ludlum’s voice was young and attractive. ‘I hope I’m not ringing at an awkward time, but I did ring you earlier.’

  ‘I know, and I’m sorry I didn’t answer your call.’ Cassandra was contrite. ‘I—er—it’s been quite a hectic day.’

  She made a face at Chris’s disbelievingly raised eyebrows, and listened with assumed concentration to what the accountant had to say. Obviously, the fact that his father and Mike’s had been friends gave a certain partiality to his tone, and in spite of her misgivings, he seemed to think she could well afford professional advice.

  ‘I’d like to call and look over your books,’ he ventured at last. ‘When would that be convenient? I don’t want to interfere with your working schedules.’

  ‘Oh—–’ Cassandra shrugged her shoulders, and put her hand over the mouthpiece so that she could speak privately to Chris. ‘He wants to come and look at the books,’ she said, looking anxious. ‘Do you really think it’s a good idea?’

  ‘Sure,’ Chris nodded. ‘Tell him to come tomorrow, while you’re down at Windsor. I guess I could manage to show him round.’

  Cassandra nodded. ‘Oh, good.’ She removed
her hand, and spoke to Paul Ludlum again. ‘Would tomorrow morning be all right?’

  ‘Tomorrow morning? Yes, I think I could manage that. Around eleven?’

  ‘Around eleven,’ Cassandra repeated in agreement, then rang off before she could change her mind.

  ‘What’s your problem?’ Chris demanded, as she chewed unhappily on the end of her pencil. ‘We’re going to need an accountant, Cass. You can’t keep on burning the candle at both ends.’

  ‘Hardly that,’ she grimaced.

  ‘No. But you do work in the evenings, when you should be out enjoying yourself.’

  ‘Oh, yes?’ Cassandra was sardonic. ‘Chris, I don’t honestly think I was cut out for enjoying myself.’

  ‘What rubbish!’ Chris was impatient. ‘Look, just because Mike made your life a misery—–’

  ‘Let’s not talk about that, Chris.’

  Cassandra interrupted him, but Chris was determined to be heard. ‘Why not?’ he demanded. ‘I know he’s dead, and you don’t want to say bad things about him, but let’s face it—he wasn’t the man to make you happy.’

  Cassandra went to plug in the kettle. ‘Maybe it was my fault,’ she mumbled, her back to him, smarting from the remembrance of her lunch with Jay Ravek. ‘Maybe I don’t—well—–’

  ‘Well—what?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ She sighed. ‘Maybe I attract the wrong kind of men.’

  ‘What—–’ muttered Chris, swearing under his breath, but Cassandra heard him and shook her head.

  ‘I mean it. Perhaps the kind of man I really need isn’t attracted to me.’

  ‘Oh, Cass—–’

  ‘Well, why not?’ She grimaced. ‘I guess I give the wrong impression. Mike used to say that.’

  Chris raised his eyes heavenward. ‘Cass, you’re a sexy lady—–’

  ‘I may look that way, but I’m not,’ declared Cassandra firmly, her lips twitching a little at the incongruity of this conversation. ‘Honestly, Chris, I don’t think I’m cut out for—well, for that kind of a relationship. I thought I was—but I was wrong.’

  CHAPTER THREE

  TWO days later the weather changed. It had been cold and damp, but not frosty, however, when Cassandra awakened on Friday morning, it was to find the roofs of the flats opposite were white with snow. It was very picturesque, if less so in the street below. The movement of cars and milk-floats, and the constant tramp of feet, had left a slushy mess that was anything but attractive, and she turned away from the window, wishing it was Saturday.

  It had seemed an unusually long week, and she could only put it down to the poor nights she was having. Since Wednesday, and her abortive outing with Jay Ravek, she had been unable to relax, and she had been looking forward to the weekend and the chance to get out of London.

  She was hoping to go up to Derbyshire, to stay with some friends of Mike’s, but the forecast was not encouraging. There had been heavy falls of snow outside the London area and Derbyshire had been mentioned, so she prepared her breakfast resignedly, realising her trip might well have to be cancelled.

  Her doorbell rang as she was eating a slice of toast, and going to answer it she found Mike’s mother on the threshold. An attractive woman in her late forties, Thea Roland kissed her daughter-in-law warmly, and at her invitation entered the flat, accepting the offer of a cup of coffee.

  ‘I came to see whether you’re still planning to drive up to Matlock, darling,’ she said, draping herself elegantly over the arm of the sofa. ‘Have you heard the weather forecast? It’s not good.’

  ‘I know.’ Cassandra poured her mother-in-law’s coffee. ‘I was just wondering what I should do.’

  ‘Don’t go,’ declared Mrs Roland at once, accepting the cup Cassandra proffered. ‘Darling, it would be madness to drive all that way! Besides, with the roads so bad, it wouldn’t be worth it. You’d hardly get there before you had to come home.’

  ‘Yes.’ Cassandra bit her lip indecisively. ‘And I was so hoping to get away.’

  ‘Were you?’ Mrs Roland regarded her speculatively for a moment. ‘I thought you were looking a little tense last evening. Is anything wrong? Paul didn’t turn his thumbs down or anything, did he?’

  ‘Paul? Oh, you mean the accountant.’ Cassandra shook her head. ‘No. No, actually, he was rather optimistic.’

  ‘I told you so!’ Mrs Roland looked delighted. ‘What did you think of him? I meant to ask you.’

  ‘Well, I didn’t meet him, as it happens,’ Cassandra sighed. ‘I had to go to Windsor. Chris handled it.’

  ‘Did he? What a shame!’ Mrs Roland’s eyes twinkled. ‘I rather hoped you’d approve of that young man.’

  Cassandra gave a rueful smile. ‘Oh, Thea! Not matchmaking again!’

  ‘Why not?’ Thea Roland was unabashed. ‘Darling, you’re so young. You mustn’t let Mike’s death influence you. You have plenty of time to marry again, and give me some grandchildren. Oh, yes,’ this as Cassandra would have interrupted her, ‘I shall consider your children my grandchildren. Just as I consider you the daughter I never had.’

  Cassandra bent to hug the older woman. ‘Thea, that’s very sweet of you, but—–’

  ‘I know. You don’t want to get married again.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘You will.’ Thea sounded confident. ‘Oh, and by the way, did you ever get in touch with that man who rang on Tuesday evening? You remember—Jay Ravek?’

  Cassandra took a deep breath. ‘He—as a matter of fact he came to the studio on Wednesday.’

  ‘Did he?’ Thea looked intrigued.

  ‘Yes.’ Cassandra spoke offhandedly. ‘Unfortunately I—we were unable to help him.’

  ‘What a pity!’ Thea was irrepressible. ‘He sounded nice. Even if he does have quite a reputation.’

  Cassandra turned away to clear the table of her dirty cup and plate. ‘Well, I don’t want to rush you, Thea, but—–’

  ‘I know—you have to go.’ Thea got up obediently, and carried her cup through to the tiny kitchen. ‘But you will reconsider going to Derbyshire, won’t you, Cass? I shall worry terribly if you insist on taking the car.’

  Cassandra hugged her again. ‘I promise I’ll give the matter careful consideration,’ she said. ‘I suppose I could always use the train.’

  ‘You could go next weekend,’ Thea declared, walking towards the door. ‘But anyway, I’ll probably see you this evening. You can tell me your decision then.’

  ‘I will.’

  Cassandra accompanied her to the door, and after she had gone, she ran a hasty comb through her hair and checked her make-up. Did she look pale? Did her disturbed nights show? She hated the idea that Jay Ravek could affect her in this way, when obviously she had no such reaction on him.

  Liz rang in the middle of the morning, and Cassandra, apologising for not having rung her, wondered what Liz would say if she told her of that disastrous lunch with Jay Ravek. Of course, Liz would only say ‘I told you so’, but somehow, in spite of his insolence, Cassandra knew a curious reluctance to discuss Jay with her friend.

  ‘I’m calling to see if you’d like to come to a party this evening,’ Liz went on, after the preliminaries were over. ‘I know you said you were going up to Matlock this weekend, but what with the snow and so on, I thought you might be staying at home.’

  ‘I am considering it,’ Cassandra admitted, glancing towards the windows, where a swirling snowstorm was whitening the panes.

  ‘I thought it was possible,’ Liz agreed. ‘I guessed you wouldn’t want to come if you were planning to leave early tomorrow morning, but if you’re not . . .’

  ‘Where is the party?’ Cassandra was hesitant. ‘Who’s giving it?’

  ‘I am,’ Liz retorted with a laugh. ‘Everyone seems to be staying in town this weekend, and I thought it was a good idea.’

  ‘Hmm.’ Cassandra was doubtful. Right now, the idea of going to one of Liz’s parties and meeting some of the bright young men she usually had in tow was not appealing.
She had had enough of men for the time being, but she could hardly say that to Liz without running into awkward explanations. Besides, perhaps some innocuous company was exactly what she needed to restore her confidence.

  ‘Come on, Cass.’ Liz was persuasive. ‘Isn’t your mother-in-law always telling you you should get out more?’

  ‘Yes,’ Cassandra sighed. ‘All right. Why not? What time?’

  Later that evening, however, preparing to go out to the party, she wished she had not been so malleable. It was a bitterly cold evening, and the snow that had fallen earlier had frozen, making the roads icy and dangerous.

  Deciding what to wear was a problem, too. Liz’s parties were always informal, but the girls she invited generally showed up in very sophisticated gear. Cassandra’s casual clothes were not sophisticated, and her eventual choice was a jumpsuit of olive-green velvet, which would help to keep her warm, as well as looking attractive.

  Liz’s flat was in Knightsbridge, a rather select area, where the rents were far out of Cassandra’s price range. But Liz had a very good job, as well as having a private income from her parents, and money had never been a problem with her.

  The Alfasud’s wheels spun on the slippery road as Cassandra drove across town. Any sudden acceleration caused the tyres to lose purchase, and by the time she reached Carlton Square her arms were aching. There were already a number of cars parked around the snow-covered stretch of turf from which the cul-de-sac got its name, but she managed to squeeze the Alfa between an M.G. and a Mercedes. With a feeling of relief she got out of the car, locked it, and crunched across the frozen ridges of snow to the lighted entrance of Dower Court.

  Liz’s flat was on the first floor of the house. Built in Victorian times, Dower Court had once been a family house, but latterly it had been converted into four flats, each occupying one of the three floors and the basement. In consequence, the flats were large and spacious, and throwing a party in the huge living room was no problem at all.

  Bettina, Liz’s housemaid, opened the door to her ring, and entering the flat Cassandra was surprised anyone had heard her above the din that was going on. A tape deck was vibrating the ceiling, and the constant sound of voices swelled above the throbbing beat of electric guitars. Cassandra had once asked Liz whether her neighbours didn’t object to the noise, but Liz’s airy retort had been that she invited all the neighbours for that very reason, and in consequence no one could reasonably complain.