by Penny Jordan
Her heart was thudding frantically for no reason at all that she could think of, as though it was responding to the unfamiliar dangerous excitement that quickened her pulse.
‘You haven’t even seen the rooms yet,’ Charlotte pointed out, striving to appear cool and businesslike. ‘They may not be what you’re looking for.’
‘I’m sure they’ll be fine, but, if you’re free for half an hour this evening, perhaps I could drive over, see them, and then we can discuss them properly.’
Charlotte looked at him uncertainly. Come round… Why did she feel so overwrought and tense whenever she saw him? She wasn’t a teenager any more. He was a physically compelling man, yes, but surely she was well beyond the age of reacting like this to mere physical appeal?
‘Is something wrong?’ she heard him saying. ‘Are you too busy tonight? A date, perhaps?’
Her head shot up, her eyes darkening with anger as she searched his face, wondering if he was deliberately making fun of her.
He must know, she was sure, that she didn’t have any dates…that there was no man in her life. But the blue eyes that looked back into hers were free of any hint of amusement; nor was there anything in his expression to suggest that he had been making fun of her.
She was getting too sensitive, she told herself tiredly. Too self-obsessed. Why should he care one way or the other about her personal life?
‘No…no, this evening will be fine,’ she agreed.
His mouth twitched suddenly, the amusement she had looked for before now lightening the blue eyes.
‘I’m flattered that you’re looking forward to it so much,’ he told her gravely, but she could hear the laughter behind the words, and just for a moment she was tempted to tell him exactly how she did feel about the prospect of having him as her lodger, but if she did that good manners would prompt him to look for accommodation elsewhere and then Vanessa would crow, believing that she was the one responsible for his decision.
‘Obviously I’ve got certain reservations,’ she told him as crisply as she could. ‘And I’m sure you must have as well.’
‘Are you? Why?’
The question surprised her. She stared at him, her mouth open, her eyes registering her feelings.
‘Well, we don’t know one another…and, in view of the fact that we’re business competitors—’
‘Ah…you’re trying to warn me that you intend to seduce me and steal all my business secrets, is that it?’
He was grinning now, a genuine, almost boyish grin that deepened the creases alongside his mouth and sent fans of tiny lines raying out from his eyes, and, looking at him, Charlotte felt that she had never hated anyone more in all her life.
He was laughing at her…making fun of her. A storm of emotion she couldn’t control boiled up inside her, and, angrily putting the car in gear, she said fiercely, ‘No doubt you think it very funny…the fact that I’m so sexless that it’s impossible to imagine me doing any such thing. Well, I don’t, and if it weren’t for the fact that I’ve already signed that tenancy agreement there’d be no way I’d take you on as a lodger now. You might think it amusing to make fun of people’s shortcomings. I don’t.’
She was ready to move away, not caring that he was still leaning against the car, when to her shock he reached inside the open window and deftly cut the engine.
While she was still in shock, he said crisply, ‘I wasn’t making fun of you—far from it—and as for your being sexless…’ He was frowning now as he registered her white face and trembling hands.
Charlotte barely heard the sound he made under his breath. Hearing him repeat her own words had devastated her. What had possessed her? Why on earth had she reacted like that…laid herself open to him like that, revealing how much his amusement had hurt her?
She was stunned by her own behaviour. Her deepest private feelings were something she never discussed with anyone, and for her to have voiced them in front of this man who was virtually a stranger…
She felt sick and shaky, disorientated and vaguely light-headed.
‘Get out.’
Get out? She focused on the hard-boned male face, absently noting the steely look in the blue eyes. He was angry with her, and no wonder. He didn’t want to be burdened with her adolescent emotional soul-baring. What on earth had possessed her? she asked herself again.
‘If it weren’t for the fact that we’re standing in this very public place, I’d be tempted to show you just how wrong you are!’
Charlotte stared at him, unable to believe her ears. He couldn’t have meant what she thought he had meant. He wouldn’t be implying that he found her desirable.
‘I’m going home,’ she told him huskily. ‘Please move out of the way, so that I can drive.’
‘You’re not driving anywhere, you little fool. You’re in no fit state. Now, are you going to get out of that car under your own steam, or am I going to have to drag you out?’
Something about the way he was looking at her warned that he meant every word he was saying. Shakily, Charlotte released her seatbelt and opened the door. ‘I’ve got to get home,’ she protested. Dimly she was aware that she was suffering from some kind of shock, and no wonder after what he had said!
‘I’ll drive you there.’
‘My car—’ she protested, but she was already being ushered very firmly across the car park to the parked Jaguar.
‘I’ll arrange for it to be returned to you.’
‘You don’t have to do this…’ she told him uncertainly, putting her hand to her head. Her head was aching badly. Strange…she hadn’t realised she had a headache. Tension-induced, of course. Suddenly, for no reason at all, she felt her eyes start to swim with tears and an awful choking sensation block her throat.
She had stood on her feet for so long, had been independent and self-sufficient for so long that this inner weakness was something she didn’t know how to cope with.
Why on earth this particular man should be affecting her like this she had no idea.
‘I don’t want to go with you,’ she told him almost childishly, unaware that she had spoken out loud until he said drily,
‘Yes, I know. You don’t want anything to do with me, do you, Charlotte? In fact, you don’t want anything to do with my sex at all, do you?’
Somehow or other they were both inside his car, and he was fastening her seatbelt while he waited for her answer. She felt shock-waves of sensation burst through her, washing over her body in ever-increasing heat.
‘Or is it me personally?’ he pressed.
Him personally? For a moment she thought he must have registered her reaction to him, and she gave him a guarded, almost frightened look that made his frown deepen. The shock of what he had said to her was slowly fading, the lump had disappeared from her throat, and when she blinked she discovered that the tears had gone too.
He had caught her off guard, that was all. There had been no real reason for her to get in such a panic…to feel so vulnerable.
He was still waiting for a response, and, even though he had now set the car in motion, she knew instinctively that he would continue to press her until he got one.
After the way she had just behaved, she suspected that the last thing he would want to do now was to share her roof, and so there was nothing to be gained from concealing the truth.
‘I just don’t like being pushed into corners,’ she told him restlessly. ‘Everyone seems to think I should be pleased to have you lodging with me…’
‘When in reality it’s the last thing you want. Why did you agree, then? Is it just the money?’
She shook her head. ‘No,’ she admitted. ‘It was Vanessa. I didn’t want her to think that I was influenced by what she said.’
‘Ah, Vanessa. A most unpleasant woman, although I suppose I shouldn’t say so.’ As though he felt her surprise, he grimaced. ‘I feel very sorry for her husband, because, no matter how much he does for her, it will never be enough. I must admit I’m looking forward to moving
into my new quarters.’
‘To moving in? Oh, but surely—?’
‘Surely what I’ll do now is the gentlemanly thing and let you off the hook, now that I know you don’t want me. I’m afraid not,’ he told her calmly. ‘I’ve already wasted far too much time looking for somewhere suitable, and besides, like you, I feel that the kind of comments that Vanessa was making are best refuted by being totally ignored. Which way?’ he asked her.
Automatically she told him, and then lapsed into a numb silence as they covered the miles in easy comfort. He was a good driver; the Jaguar was bliss to ride in. It smelled of leather, and the passenger seat seemed to curve itself around her body. Within twenty minutes they were turning into the drive. She saw Oliver frown as he noted the rickety gates and unkempt drive, although all he said when he eventually stopped the car in front of the house was, ‘Excellent situation…for a family. Do you have much land?’
‘An acre of garden and a good-sized paddock,’ Charlotte responded automatically.
She never used the front door, keeping it bolted and barred at all times, but now she reflected that perhaps she ought to have new locks put on it so that Oliver could use it. That way she would be decreasing the risks of their paths crossing too frequently. The risks…what risks, for heaven’s sake?
She saw the way he studied the house as she opened the porch door. When he followed her into the kitchen, she found herself gabbling that she was waiting for the joiner to start work on the new units, and quickly stopped herself. Why on earth was she apologising to him? What did it matter to her what he thought of her home?
But to her surprise he said easily, ‘My mother died last year. It was months before I could bring myself to do anything about her house. There’s always such a feeling of betrayal and guilt involved in the death of a parent, isn’t there? A feeling of reluctance to change anything. I suppose it’s all part of the natural healing process. The trouble is that nowadays we’re all too geared to the media vision of instant everything to accept that some things take time. Do you miss him?’
‘Not really,’ Charlotte admitted. ‘He wasn’t easy to get on with and we weren’t really close. I suppose it was guilt that brought me home in the first place, and guilt that kept me here.’
She was surprised to discover how easy it was to admit it to him.
‘I’d better show you the rooms,’ she said awkwardly, opening the kitchen door and waiting for him to follow her.
In the end she showed him all through the house, and then the garden. He was surprisingly knowledgeable about the latter for a man who lived in London, and when he said quietly, ‘Would you mind if I tried my hand at resuscitating your vegetable plot?’ Charlotte said the first thing that came into her head.
‘But you won’t be here long enough. You said six months.’
‘Yes, I know. So the garden is out of bounds to me, is it?’
‘No…no… Of course not.’
What had she said? She had no intention of sharing her garden with him as well as her home. The trouble with Oliver Tennant was that he never reacted in the way she expected, and so he was constantly catching her off guard. She had no idea why he would want to bother himself with her neglected vegetable garden, but now it seemed she had given him permission to do so, just as she had tacitly agreed to accept him as her lodger.
There were still various minor details to sort out. It was almost eight o’clock before he finally got up to leave.
Charlotte walked out with him to his car. As he opened the door he turned round. Instinctively she stepped back from him.
‘By the way,’ he said calmly, ‘there’s just one more thing.’
Charlotte waited patiently, and was stunned when his head descended towards her own and he said quietly in her ear, ‘Look at me, Charlotte. I don’t think you’re sexless, far from it. Shall I prove it to you?’
The shock of his words immobilised her for just long enough for his hand to settle firmly against her jaw and gently turn her face towards his own, so that his mouth could feather slowly against her skin until it came to rest against hers.
A shudder of shock racked her as her senses registered the moist warmth of his lips and their gentle persuasive movement against her own. Her eyes, wide open and dazed, stared into his. She couldn’t believe this was happening, but it was. His free hand was resting on her waist, propelling her forward to close the gap between their bodies. She could feel the heat coming off his skin—or was it her own flesh that was giving off that warmth? The hand on her jaw stroked her throat and then her nape, the long fingers burrowing under her hair, while her pulse jerked frantically and her heart pounded in her chest. And all the time his mouth was moving on hers, slowly, subtly, seductively, so that her insides were turning fluid and molten and she was automatically obeying the silent command of his mouth and responding to the growing pressure of his kiss.
His kiss…he was kissing her! Frantically Charlotte pushed him away, standing back from him as he released her immediately. A hundred questions clamoured on her lips, but she couldn’t voice any of them, couldn’t ask why he had done such an extraordinary thing. She already knew, of course. He felt sorry for her. Well, she didn’t want his pity, nor his kisses. Nausea turned her stomach to ice. Had it really come to that…that a man kissed her out of pity?
‘Charlotte—’
‘Please don’t ever do that again,’ she told him fiercely. ‘I don’t need your…your kisses, and I don’t want them.’
Before he could say anything she turned on her heel and almost ran back into the house. When she reached the kitchen she was shaking. What an appalling thing to have happened.
And why had it happened? It had happened because she had behaved stupidly.
She shuddered now, remembering that moment in the car park when she had blurted out those fateful words. A small groan broke the silence of her kitchen. How could she have behaved like that…spoken like that? It had been tantamount to asking him to deny her words.
Was that why she had said them? Because a part of her had known that out of compassion he must reject them?
She winced at the thought, filled with a humiliating awareness of what Oliver Tennant must be thinking about her. What she could not understand was why, after what she had said, he had not changed his mind about lodging with her.
Telling herself it was pointless to go over and over the whole thing endlessly looking for explanations and reasons, she acknowledged that the only way she was going to be able to live with her folly was to behave as though it had never happened—and that included behaving as though that kiss had never happened as well. And yet almost she was unable to resist the impulse to touch her fingers to her mouth, as though in doing so there was some way she could recapture the sensation of his moving against it.
Angry with herself, she snatched her hand away. She had far more important things to do than to stand here agonising over a kiss given in pity. Far, far more.
CHAPTER SIX
‘GOOD, so you are in after all. I’ve been knocking on this door for ages!’ Vanessa exclaimed in an aggrieved voice as Charlotte drew back the final bolt on the front door and opened it.
Once she realised who was standing outside, Charlotte wished she had left the door closed. ‘I don’t use the front door much,’ she told her unwanted visitor, adding coolly, ‘Is Adam with you?’
‘No, I thought it best that we have our little chat alone.’
A tingle of apprehension ran down Charlotte’s spine. It was most unusual for Vanessa to come round to see her, and she suspected she knew what, or rather who had brought her.
Closing the door and heading for the kitchen, Charlotte was conscious of Vanessa’s deprecating study of the house.
‘I can’t understand why you simply don’t just sell this place,’ she sniffed as they walked into the kitchen and sat down. ‘It’s far too large for one person, and it needs a fortune spending on it to bring it up to scratch. You’d be better off with a small purpo
se-built flat. After all, it’s not as though you’re ever likely to marry, is it?’
The words, which only echoed her own private thoughts—thoughts which until recently she had found quite acceptable—now jarred, conjuring up an unwanted memory of those two dark-haired, blue-eyed imaginary children.
‘Whether or not I marry has no bearing on where I choose to make my home,’ she told Vanessa lightly, trying not to allow the other woman to get under her skin. ‘This house has been my home for all of my life. I may sell it, I may not. I haven’t made up my mind as yet.’
‘Oh, come on, Charlotte. There’s no need to pretend with me. There’s only one reason you’re hanging on to it and we both know what that is,’ Vanessa accused nastily. ‘The moment you heard that Oliver was looking for accommodation you made up your mind, didn’t you? I suppose I shouldn’t blame you. After all, how often does a woman in your position—single, plain, over twenty-five—get the opportunity to insinuate herself so closely into the life of an eligible, handsome man? As I said, I can understand perfectly well why you approached Oliver with this ludicrous idea of yours that he move in here with you, but, as one of your oldest friends, I felt that I must warn you. Even Adam agreed with me that in the circumstances—’
‘Adam? You’ve discussed this with Adam?’
Immediately she saw the triumph in Vanessa’s eyes, Charlotte regretted her sharp words.
‘Well, he is my husband, and I thought as a man he would be able to give me a man’s view of things. I must say it was no different really from mine. Of course, he put it rather more…well, bluntly than I would have done.
“You know what people will say when they find out he’s living there, don’t you?” he said to me. “They’re bound to think that there’s something going on. And of course they’re bound to feel sorry for Charlie. And I suppose you can’t blame her…he’s an attractive man.”’ Vanessa lifted her eyebrows. ‘Attractive—I ask you! Men can be so blind, can’t they? But then Adam, poor dear, would be the last person to recognise Oliver’s very male appeal—’