Starting Over

by Penny Jordan

  'It's all right, Jon,' David soothed him. 'And Jenny does have a point, even if she is wrong about one thing. I do care about both Jack and Livvy, Jenny, and I care very much.'

  David was still frowning. Jenny's outburst had shocked him but nowhere near as much as the information she had given him about Olivia. He had known things weren't very good for her, of course, but Jenny's words had painted a picture of someone so totally alone and isolated that he had immediately felt the strongest urge to do something to help and protect her. Flesh of his flesh...his daughter...his child. David closed his eyes. He had to do something...he must....

  'JENNY, how could you speak to David like that?' Jon asked in bewilderment as they drove home having taken Ben back to Queensmead first, both of them sitting in a mutually hostile silence as they waited to be alone to vent their true feelings.

  'Like what? I simply told him the truth,' Jenny defended herself. 'There he is celebrating the conception of another child when poor Livvy...'

  Jon frowned. If he hadn't known better he might almost have suspected that Jenny was jealous of Honor and David and the baby they were expecting.

  'HONOR, I've been thinking, about this problem that Livvy is having finding someone to help with the children. Well, I've got plenty of spare time and they are my grandchildren. Since Jenny can't help her...' David's voice trailed away as he saw the way Honor was looking at him.

  'You don't think it's a good idea,' he guessed dis-heartened.

  'I think it's an excellent idea,' Honor assured him.

  'But I doubt that Olivia will.'

  'It's worth going to see her and offering to help,'

  David told her eagerly. 'This could be the break-through I've been looking for, Honor, a way of showing Livvy, proving to her how much I regret... And I want to see her, anyway,' he added gruffly. 'I owe it to her and to...him or her, whichever it turns out to be,' he smiled as he touched her stomach gently, 'To tell her about our baby myself.

  'You don't want me to do it, do you?' he asked her quietly when he saw her expression.

  'I don't want you to be disappointed or...or hurt,'

  Honor countered. 'I know how much it would mean to you to mend the rift between you, David, and I know, too, how much Olivia needs to have that rift mended even if she herself won't admit how much she needs the healing that forgiving you and herself will give her.' She paused and sighed. 'But I just don't feel that she's ready yet.'

  'You're a wonderful woman—have I ever told you that?' David whispered as he kissed her. 'I understand what you're saying, Honor,' he acknowledged when she smiled. 'But I'm still going to try. From a practical point of view, if nothing else, Livvy needs help and, after all, I am her father. I'll go and see her tomorrow.

  It's Sunday and she won't be at work. You must curse me sometimes for bringing you so many family problems.'

  'Your family is nowhere near as problem-driven and

  -riddled as mine,' Honor told him with a grin.

  Leaning over, she kissed his forehead and then his nose, sighing in soft pleasure as he drew her down against him.

  'Is this all right?' he asked her in a whisper, brush-ing his fingertips against her stomach. 'I mean...'

  'It's fine,' Honor assured him. Making love with David wasn't going to damage or harm their baby, but at some stage she would have to take the decision whether or not to have the kind of tests that could potentially do so. As an older mother it was sensible to check that everything was progressing well for the baby. But right now she didn't want to think about that. Right now she simply wanted to enjoy what there was...what she had in the here and now...right now....

  'Mmm...that feels good,' she told David huskily as he stroked her breast, snuggling closer to him as she whispered, 'Do it again....'

  CHAPTER TEN

  SARA SMILED happily to herself. It was her day off and she was on her way to the exclusive health and golf complex near Chester where Frances and her family were members to spend the day at their expense enjoying the spa's facilities.

  'It's the least we can do after the terrific job you've done for us with the paperwork,' Frances had assured her.

  And so here she was armed with Frances's careful directions, making her way through the pretty Cheshire countryside.

  Along with her derogatory and unflattering comments about the Crighton family, Tania had been equally unenthusiastic about their home town, con-demning it as a dull country backwater, but Sara had found it to be anything but and Tania had neglected to mention the town's historic past.

  Just as soon as she could, Sara had promised herself that she would explore the town's environs, walking the route of its ancient walls, visiting the salt mine museum and the castle; but today she was content to be in her car on her way to her destination.

  Frances had raved about the club's beauty treatment facilities whilst her husband had been equally enthusiastic about its golf courses.

  'You'll love the swimming pool, and the restaurant is pretty good as well.'

  'But not as good as yours, of course,' Sara had responded with a grin.

  'Of course not,' Frances had laughed back.

  And now here she was turning in at Camden Park's gates and driving down the curving drive that mean-dered through the greens.

  Smiling a little ruefully to herself she pulled up her small car in a car park which seemed to be full of top-of-the-range BMWs, four-wheel drives, Jaguars and Mercedes—had no one in Cheshire heard of compact cars?

  The spa's receptionist, though, couldn't have been more pleasant or helpful, inviting Sara to choose from a range of options available from the beauty treatment rooms.

  Having made her choice, a long luxurious massage and a facial, Sara decided to use the time beforehand with a healthy, invigorating swim.

  The pool area was as luxurious as Frances had said, its walls painted with Italian frescoes. A long columned arcade led to the Jacuzzi and steam room and the human beings adorning the area were equally as decorative as the backdrop, Sara acknowledged as she studied the women in their obvious designer leisure wear, their menfolk... Suddenly she froze. There, standing at the opposite end of the pool, thankfully so deep in conversation with his female companion that he was unaware of her presence, was Nick Crighton.

  She had been right about one thing, she decided shakily. His body was every bit as sexily male and muscular as she had imagined, his skin sleekly brown and still damp from his swim. Sara could hear the woman laughing at something he had said to her as he shook the water from his hair, a soft deliciously feminine sound that matched her appearance.

  Enviously Sara discreetly studied her. She was tall, possibly even six foot, Sara recognised, with a tiny waist and firm curves which her swimsuit revealed subtly rather than clinging to it in any obvious kind of way. Her hair was clipped up but Sara guessed that it might be long—and whoever she was, it was obvious to Sara that she and Nick Crighton knew each other very well. When she lifted her hand and placed it on Nick's arm, he moved closer to her. A white-hot sheet of envy enveloped Sara, shocking her with the explicitness of the message it carried. She wanted to be the one who was touching Nick. She wanted—

  Nick was walking away from the woman now and diving cleanly into the pool. Compulsively Sara watched him as he swam. A strong powerful crawl took him easily down the length of the Olympic-size pool, each movement clean and strong, droplets of water glinting on his bare arm as he raised it. A scar, old and silvery, made a jagged line on his upper arm. Sara winced as she saw it—how had it happened? A sensation of sweet hot weakness poured through Sara's body like a dark forbidden narcotic. She wanted to go to him, hold him, touch him, be held and touched by him. She wanted to lick the droplets of water from his skin, cling to him, wrapping herself around him. She wanted...

  Helplessly she closed her eyes, mocking her own weakness by telling herself with mental derision, 'He's just a man swimming...that's all....'

  Against her will her gaze was drawn back to him.
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  He was swimming on his back now, again with long powerful strokes. The images that the sight of such thoroughly sensual male strength and control were creating inside her were causing havoc in her senses. She could imagine him ...feel him almost.... Aghast, she licked her suddenly dry lips. Her heart was pounding, her pulse racing, her insides...

  Jealousy twisted through her. Who was the woman he was with and what right did he have to be with her after what he had said to her—Sara? Her own thoughts shocked and appalled her. What was happening to her?

  She scarcely recognised her normal sane self in this tortured creature of sensual need and jealousy that she had suddenly become.

  Nick was climbing out of the pool now and as he did so, for the first time Sara saw the long jagged scar on his torso.

  Helplessly she expelled her breath on a sharp surge of vocal shock.

  Even though he was surely too far away to have heard her, suddenly for some reason, he went still and stared in her direction frowning. Immediately Sara stepped back and turned on her heel. She could hear Nick calling her name but there was no way she was going to give him the satisfaction of knowing she had been watching him...wanting him....

  It was only a few yards to the ladies' showers and changing rooms but by the time she made it to their sanctuary Sara's heart was pumping fiercely as she tensed her body against her fear of Nick catching up with her before she reached it.

  ON THE OTHER SIDE of the pool, Nick exhaled fiercely.

  Seeing and recognising the transfixed male look in his eyes, Bobbie Crighton was amused. She and Luke had bumped into him by accident earlier. They were club members and Luke was playing golf with some friends whilst Bobbie had been intending to enjoy a swim followed by the luxury of a manicure. Her children were spending the day with their grandparents and she had just been on her way to the second-floor beauty treatment rooms above the swimming pool when she had bumped into Nick, who had explained that his brother Saul had insisted that he use their membership facilities to help build up his damaged muscles.

  'Someone you know?' she remarked sotto voce now, following the direction of Nick's hard-edged glare.

  'Sara Lanyon. She works for Frances Sorter,' he told Bobbie grimly. 'She's related through marriage, in a roundabout sort of way, to David's ex-wife, from whom it seems she's picked up some idiotic antipathy to the Crightons in general and male Crightons in particular—and this Crighton male—in extreme particular!'

  'Oh, dear,' Bobbie sympathised, but there was a rueful look in her eyes. After all, hadn't she, in what now seemed like another lifetime, arrived in Haslewich with very much the same attitude?

  Intriguing that another woman should come to Haslewich sharing a similar antagonism. Would she undergo the kind of change that she, Bobbie, had experienced? Bobbie's smile deepened as she remembered how Luke Crighton had been instrumental in her own change of heart.

  'How's Olivia managing?' she asked, switching the subject. 'If we hadn't arranged to take the children to the States for Christmas I'd have offered to help.'

  Bobbie had originally helped to look after Olivia's children when they were younger and she and Olivia had remained very close until Olivia had gone back to work full-time, after which Bobbie had seen less and less of her.

  'According to Saul there was never any way Livvy was going to feel good about David coming back, but neither he nor Tullah talk about her too much. After all, there was a time when Saul and Livvy were pretty close....'

  'Yes, but that was before Saul had met Tullah,'

  Bobbie pointed out.

  'Ah, but you women can be pretty possessive where your men are concerned,' Nick teased her deliberately.

  'Us women,' Bobbie began and then laughed, recognising when she was deliberately being baited.

  'Female jealousy is nothing when compared to that of the male of the species,' she warned him. 'Just you wait! I'd better go,' she added, 'otherwise I'll be late for my treatment.'

  'See you at one for lunch then,' Nick reminded her.

  He had promised himself a session in the gym to work on his damaged muscles but suddenly all he could think about was Sara.

  He had received a letter this morning, forwarded to him by Ffion Davies, the wife of a local landowner in Pembrokeshire where he lived. Ffion acted as his assistant-cum-secretary and had a spare key to his cottage. She had typed a note to accompany the letter which had read, 'this looked urgent—and interesting!'

  The letter was from a man who had refused to iden-tify himself other than by saying that he was a senior diplomat. He had given a box number for Nick to reply to and he was asking for Nick's help in securing the release of his daughter who was being held hostage by a break-away religious group in the Far East.

  His request was a little outside Nick's normal field of operations in that he was being asked to use his negotiation skills and familiarity with the politics of the area in question rather than his legal expertise. The government of the country concerned had already made it clear that they were not prepared to negotiate with the rebels and the writer feared for the safety of his daughter. Nick didn't blame him; there had been too many incidents of hostages being killed in such situations for him not to do so.

  Strictly speaking, there were other agencies better equipped to deal with this situation than he was himself but... But it was just the kind of challenge he needed right now...and it would take him away from Haslewich and Sara...if he could get himself fit enough to take the task on.

  SARA SMILED voluptuously to herself as her body relaxed under the skilled hands of the masseuse. She was daydreaming that she was lying on a tropical beach watching as Nick swam towards her through the clear aquamarine water.

  On the other side of the thin partition separating her treatment room from its neighbour she heard a familiar warm female laugh—the woman she had seen with Nick. Suddenly her daydream changed. Another woman came walking down the beach coming between her and Nick. She was tall and magnificently curved and Nick was turning away from her to swim to the interloper.

  'There,' the masseuse smiled, bringing Sara back to reality, 'all finished.'

  Thanking her, Sara slid off the bed. By rights she ought to have been feeling totally relaxed but instead, thanks to Nick Crighton and his sexy female friend, she was feeling anything but.

  Who was she? Were she and Nick already lovers?

  She was extraordinarily striking looking. The intensity of her own jealousy bewildered Sara, but no matter how hard she tried she could neither drive it away nor analyse it.

  In the end, in desperation, whilst she redressed and brushed her hair she reminded herself sharply that it was ridiculous for her to feel like this. Just because she had spent going on for close on a week fighting as hard as she could against the sharp pangs of longing Nick aroused in her, that was no reason for her to start over-reacting like a possessive lover. No, she had no reason to feel such jealousy, Sara acknowledged. Just as she had no reason to feel such need and desire... such... hunger... she told herself angrily. Give what you feel its proper name, she challenged herself mentally, because that's exactly what you are feeling—lust!

  She had never thought of herself as a sensual woman; but then, she had never thought of herself as a jealous one, either.

  She looked at her watch. It was time for her to go and have her lunch.

  Lust. The word even tasted scalding hot and dangerous on her tongue, sending shock waves of wanton imagery through her thoughts.

  Sara wanted to wrench it out of her mind, to sub-jugate and destroy it. But how could she? The best way to fight fire was supposed to be to turn and face it, not run from it...to fight it with its own self. Was Nick right? Was the best way to rid herself of her unwanted hunger for him to give in to it and let it burn itself out?

  The cafe bar where she had booked her table was busy, families enjoying a shared lunch, couples energised and glowing with health from their morning's exercise. She was just about to follow the waitress to her
table when she saw them walking towards her—

  Nick and his lady friend, arm in arm, smiling intimately at one another. This time the jealousy that hit her was like the kick of a mule. Instant, hard and horridly painful—so painful in fact that she actually had to gasp for breath.

  'Isn't that the girl we saw this morning?' Bobbie asked Nick as she spotted Sara.

  Nick, who had already seen her and had decided for his own sanity to ignore her presence, agreed grimly,

  'Yes.'

  'It looks as though she's on her own. Let's go over and join her,' Bobbie suggested, hiding her amusement with an innocent smile when Nick started to frown.

  'I don't think—' he began, but Bobbie didn't let him finish. She was intrigued to meet Sara after what Nick had told her about her, and even more intrigued by Nick's reaction to her.

  'It would look awfully rude if we didn't,' she told Nick. 'After all, she is practically family.'

  Nick's eyebrows rose but he could sense that Bobbie wasn't going to be dissuaded.

  When she saw that Nick and his companion were heading for her table Sara could barely contain her outrage. How could she possibly want a man who could be so brazen, so blatant?

  His companion, she noticed, was wearing a beautiful engagement ring and a wedding ring.

  'Sara,' Nick began as they reached her table. 'May I introduce you to Bobbie—'

  'Do you mind if we share your table?' Bobbie took over, promptly sitting down before Sara could object.

  Sara stared at her with a glazed look. Close up she was even more stunningly beautiful than Sara had imagined. What was she doing with Nick? She was married. How could he? How dare he? Did he love her...? Was he...? Was she...?

  Lost in her own angry thoughts, Sara didn't see Nick reaching towards her until it was too late and he was actually touching the bare flesh of her arm. She jumped as though she had been burned, trembling from head to foot, her face going from red to white as her body reacted helplessly to his touch. She could see from the look in Nick's eyes that he was as shocked by her reaction as she was herself and then, to her own disbelief, she heard her own voice coming from what seemed to be a long way away as she said huskily, "That proposition you put to me the other day.