So she had got up instead, drinking several cups of coffee as she’d prowled her apartment, no longer sure, as the agonising minutes had passed, what had happened between herself and Max.
The more she’d thought about it the more she had come to realise that although Max might have made love with her, he had certainly never said he was in love with her—not even during those most intimate moments.
And the more convinced she had become that he was not going to call her later, either.
She had, in fact, become that well-worn cliché, a one-night stand. Her own feelings of love towards Max had just blinded her to that fact.
Until that moment.
She had left her apartment, the scene of her naïveté, like one pursued, rushing to the office she shared with her researchers, glad no one else was in yet as she tried to bury herself in the extensive notes she needed to go through before her programme on Friday evening.
A wasted effort so far. She had no interest in her guest or in the programme, couldn’t concentrate on the words written in front of her as thoughts intruded again and again of what had happened the previous night—seeking a balm, anything to salve her cringing humiliation. And finding none.
Gary Holmes, grinning at her cheerfully as he pushed the papers to one side and sat down again, was the last person she wanted to see just now!
His blue eyes narrowed thoughtfully as he looked down at her, almost as if he sensed there was something different about her…
Was there? she wondered, slightly panicked. Did the sort of mind-blowing, sense-filling lovemaking she and Max had shared the night before leave some sort of physical mark for others to see? She hoped not!
She stood up abruptly, moving restlessly to stand in front of the window, her expression shadowed by the sunlight streaming in behind her. ‘What do you want, Gary?’ she snapped.
Her annoyance was completely wasted on the thick-skinned Gary, and he returned her hostile gaze unperturbed. ‘You aren’t exactly being nice, Abby. All I’ve ever wanted was to be your friend.’
Abby gave a scornful laugh; she must have missed that particular conversation! All Gary had ever done was ridicule and belittle her. ‘You haven’t succeeded!’
‘No?’ He raised blond brows, his expression thoughtful for a few seconds before he shrugged. ‘Maybe you’re right,’ he agreed without concern. ‘But it isn’t too late for us to start again?’ he added with throaty flirtation.
‘Start again?’ she repeated. ‘And just what have I done to merit this generous offer on your part?’ Her eyes glittered with challenge.
He was openly grinning now. ‘I may not have liked you very much to begin with, Abby—’
‘What a surprise!’ She shook her head. ‘The feeling, I can assure you, is still mutual.’ She had no intention of even trying to be polite to this man after the mischief he had deliberately tried to create for her on Saturday.
Initially she had tried, in the face of great provocation, to maintain a professional respect for this man’s obvious brilliance as a director, but over the last few days he had been the one to step over the line of that working relationship and into her private life. There, she owed him no respect whatsoever.
‘Just what did you think you were doing, coming to my apartment in that way on Saturday?’ she demanded.
He shrugged. ‘Believe it or not, trying to save you from yourself.’ He looked at her with narrowed eyes. ‘But perhaps I’m too late to do that…?’ he said slowly.
Something about her was different, Abby realized, and embarrassed colour stained her cheeks. She had no idea what it could be, what it was that Gary could see that she couldn’t, but he knew. It was written there in his scathingly pitying expression; he knew she and Max were lovers.
The scorn she could understand—Gary seemed to feel that way about most emotional relationships—but why the pity?
Her gaze didn’t quite meet his now. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’
‘Don’t you?’ he came back quickly. ‘Oh, I think you do, Abby.’ The colour drained from her cheeks as quickly as it had stained them, and Gary shook his head. ‘You’re playing with the big boys now.’
‘I’m not playing at all,’ she snapped, wondering, after her recent humiliation, just how much more of this she could take.
He nodded. ‘And that’s going to be your problem.’ He made himself more comfortable on the desktop. ‘Max is a major league player, and you’re nothing but a lightweight. In other words, Abby, he’ll crush you like a bug that’s unwittingly stepped into his path.’
She gave another shake of her head, trembling slightly now, having already come to the same conclusion herself not so long ago. ‘Isn’t that my business?’
‘Not if it’s going to affect the programme, no,’ Gary rasped. ‘As I said, you’re a lightweight who should never have been put in this position, but—’
‘That’s only your opinion,’ she cut in forcefully, stung beyond measure that he was repeating Max’s words from their very first meeting.
That seemed so very long ago now. So much had happened—and yet in reality it was only a matter of days.
‘My professional as well as my personal opinion,’ Gary continued remorselessly, a man confident of his own professional worth. ‘So, to recap: you’re a lightweight, but unfortunately you happen to be the principal in my latest programme. It’s in my interest to see that you don’t self-destruct.’
‘And you believe my seeing Max Harding is going to result in that?’ she said scornfully. ‘I’m still trying to persuade him into appearing on the show, Gary. Or had you forgotten that?’ She tossed back the darkness of her shoulder-length hair.
He gave her another pitying glance. ‘How have you been doing so far?’
Not well, she inwardly acknowledged. In fact, she hadn’t even given that aspect of their relationship a thought during the last twenty-four hours!
‘An open channel of dialogue is a vast improvement on his total non-compliance of a week ago,’ she defended evasively.
‘Has he agreed to appear on the programme?’
‘I told you, I’m still—’
‘Has Max Harding agreed to appear on the programme?’ Gary repeated through gritted teeth, all mockery gone now, his eyes glittering intently.
She swallowed hard. ‘Not yet. But that doesn’t mean—’
‘He isn’t going to.’ Gary ignored her protest. ‘Not now. Not ever. But don’t take it personally, Abby,’ he added with some of his earlier derision. ‘Max Harding will never appear unscripted on public television again. He daren’t. Because he can’t take the risk of being questioned about his private life.’
Abby became very still, her expression guarded now. ‘What about his private life?’ So far she and the researchers had managed to find out very little about that—just normal background stuff, such as parents, education, television credits. The private side of Max’s personal life remained exactly that. Private.
Except, she thought dully, last night probably made her a part of that private life…
Gary gave her an exasperated look. ‘Did you never wonder why Rory Mayhew chose Max’s programme to attempt to commit suicide?’
‘The man’s life was in tatters,’ she came back impatiently. ‘His political career was in ruins, totally beyond repair after that property scandal. He had only that day been forced into resigning from his government post. It was also rumoured that his wife was leaving him because of an affair—’
‘Yes,’ Gary put in softly, the full weight of innuendo behind that one word.
Abby looked at him dazedly. She was tired from lack of sleep, upset beyond measure at Max’s casual ‘I’ll call you later’—how many other women had he said that to before never contacting them again?—and just too emotionally fragile to make any sense of whatever Gary was implying.
She shook her head. ‘I don’t see how any of that has anything to do with Max.’
‘No?’ Gary gave her another
pitying look. ‘That rather depends on which of the Mayhews was having the affair, doesn’t it? And who with,’ he added softly.
Abby stared at him unblinkingly for several long seconds, and then she finally realised exactly what he was saying.
She didn’t believe it!
Rory Mayhew’s professional life had been over so far as politics were concerned—absolutely no going back on that. The bribes and deals he had arranged during his brief time in government, and the added rumours of the total collapse of his private life had been enough to drive any man to the point of suicide.
Something he had achieved on his second time of trying…
The shamed politician had been seen by a doctor following his behaviour on the Max Harding show, but must have given quite a convincing performance of sanity, because he had been released from medical supervision only two days later. At which time he had booked into an obscure hotel and downed the contents of a bottle of pills, washing them down with whisky.
There had been no Max Harding on hand to stop him that time.
But now Gary seemed to be implying something else about that whole incident. Something totally unbelievable.
She gave a denying movement of her head. ‘Rory Mayhew was the one having an affair—’
‘Was he?’ Gary’s smile was completely confident. ‘Or was that just something that gained credence once the man was dead? After all—’ his mouth twisted derisively ‘—his reputation was already beyond repair. And—what’s the saying?—you have to protect the living…’
What he was implying, what he was saying, was that it had been Rory Mayhew’s wife who had been having an affair. And that the man involved was Max.
‘You don’t have to believe me, Abby.’
‘I don’t!’ she said, with more determination than actual conviction.
Because she didn’t know!
The whole incident had taken place two years ago, at a time when she had been trying to pursue her own career. Oh, she had seen the programme, had been as shocked as the rest of the general public and had read all the scandalous details that had followed in the newspapers. But she, like everyone else, had only ever known what the press chose to tell her. She didn’t really know what had happened, why it was that Rory Mayhew should have felt desperate enough to attempt suicide on television.
‘Don’t you, Abby?’ Gary taunted as he saw her doubts. ‘She was in his life then, and she’s still in his life now,’ he added softly.
Her lashes fluttered uncertainly. She couldn’t meet his gaze. ‘Who is?’
‘Kate Mayhew, of course.’
‘Kate?’ Abby echoed sharply, clearly remembering Max’s excuses about the woman Kate who had telephoned, and his reaction to her suggestion that the other woman might be married. ‘Kate Mayhew?’
Was that the reason Max had made love to her? Because he had hoped to distract her attention from his relationship with the woman she knew only as Kate?
No, she couldn’t believe that—wouldn’t believe that of Max. Gary was just being his usual vindictive self. If only she didn’t feel so vulnerable. If only she felt more sure of her own relationship with Max!
Gary was looking at her speculatively now. ‘You’ve obviously heard the name.’ He nodded his satisfaction. ‘But not from Max, I’m sure. Max likes to play things close to his chest on that particular subject. He’ll do anything he can to hide the fact that he’s still involved with Kate Mayhew.’
So the woman who’d called had had the same name—that didn’t prove anything. Did it?
‘How do you know so much about him?’ Abby attacked.
‘Didn’t he tell you?’ Gary smiled, standing up. ‘I was the director on The Max Harding Forum two years ago. So you see, Abby,’ he continued mercilessly at her stunned silence, ‘I’m in a position to know exactly what happened. In fact, if you decide you want to know any more about it, I suggest you come and ask me.’ He swung the door open. ‘Max, I’m sure, will never tell you or anyone else the truth about what happened,’ he concluded with certainty, closing the door softly behind him as he left.
Abby couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.
Gary had been the director on Max’s show two years ago? Was that the reason for the antagonism between the two men?
What did it matter what the reason was for their dislike of each other? None of that told her what she really wanted—needed—to know. And that was the truth about the Mayhews. What had really happened two years ago. Whether Kate Mayhew was the Kate from the phone call! Because, if she was, that put a whole different light on Max’s continuing friendship with her…
But until she did know—and she was far too familiar with how much Gary enjoyed being malicious!—she was more inclined to believe the man she loved than Gary’s vicious lies.
Although that didn’t stop her sense of unease every time she thought of the possibility of the woman Kate being Rory Mayhew’s widow…
‘Dinner tonight, Abby?’
This had not been the best day of her life—in fact, Abby couldn’t remember a worse one!
She had spent most of it, after Gary had left, fluctuating between believing totally in Max and their own relationship, and doubts concerning his evasion where that call from Kate was concerned.
She was still inclined to believe that Gary had it all wrong, and that the woman who had telephoned Max wasn’t Kate Mayhew at all—after all, Kate really wasn’t an uncommon name—but every time she decided that she remembered Max’s behaviour over the call, his refusal to discuss it or the woman called Kate.
She had arrived home ten minutes ago, literally feeling like something Monty had dragged in, and really hadn’t been prepared, emotionally or in any other way, for Max’s telephone call.
‘Abby?’ Max prompted now at her continued silence. ‘If you would rather not go out I can always come over there, and we can order something in—’
‘No!’ She felt compelled to reject that idea; she had no idea how this evening was going to turn out, and knew that in spite of herself she was still disturbed by her conversation with Gary earlier. Even if that was probably what he had intended all along. ‘Why don’t I bring some food over to your apartment and we can cook there?’ she went on hastily. ‘That way you won’t have to get up and leave in the morning.’ She couldn’t stop herself from adding that. His sudden departure this morning still rankled.
Even if he had now called, as he had said he would…
‘It’s been a while, Abby,’ he remarked wryly.
‘What has?’ she came back warily, desperately wishing she didn’t feel so uncertain—of Max, of their own relationship. Because if she hadn’t she would have been able to tell Gary to take his accusations and innuendos and—
‘Abby?’ Max questioned sharply now, obviously sensing that something was wrong.
How she wished she could behave differently. How she wanted to behave differently! But the truth was she felt battered and bruised—from Max’s sudden departure this morning, from her hateful conversation with Gary Holmes later—and was hating the fact that her uncertainties about her own relationship with Max had succeeded in putting doubts into her mind.
‘Abby, have I upset you with the way I left this morning?’ Max pursued gruffly. ‘I told you, I’m a little rusty at this sort of thing. I didn’t mean to upset you by leaving the way I did, but I really did have an early appointment.’
At five-thirty in the morning? Somehow she very much doubted that! Unless it had been with the lovely Kate? And if that Kate was Kate Mayhew, then she was lovely, Abby knew, having managed to find several photographs on file of the tall, beautiful redhead. Now thirty-five, the mother of two young children, Abby also knew that Kate Mayhew had not remarried…
‘I’m not upset, Max,’ she told him. ‘I’ve been working all day, I only got in ten minutes ago, and I’m tired—that’s all.’
‘Sure?’ His voice had deepened to husky intimacy, causing a quiver of awareness down Abby’s spine as it bro
ught sharply back into focus all the intimacies they had shared the previous night.
‘I’m sure,’ she told him with brisk determination, shaking off that awareness. For self-preservation’s sake, if nothing else! ‘Look, just give me an hour to shower and change, and I’ll come over with some food.’
‘Forget the food. Just bring yourself,’ Max told her gruffly. ‘If we get hungry for food later we can order something in.’
Later. Implying they would be occupied doing something else when she first arrived. And Abby wasn’t naïve enough not to know what that something would be.
But she needed to be a lot more certain of him than she was to withstand a second battering to her emotions…
‘I haven’t eaten all day, Max.’ She had been too busy to even think about food! ‘I need feeding before I do anything else.’
There was the briefest of pauses before he replied, ‘Okay. I’ll uncork some wine and have it waiting for when you get here.’
A whole bottle of it to herself, Abby decided as she rang off and moved lethargically towards the bathroom. Preferably with a straw!
She shouldn’t be doing this—shouldn’t be going anywhere near Max when she was so filled with questions and doubts about the two of them continuing to see each other.
Oh, stop lying to yourself, Abby, she told herself disgustedly. She wanted to see Max again, needed to see him. She loved him, for goodness’ sake! And once she was with him all Gary’s lies, his insinuations, would evaporate, she was sure.
CHAPTER EIGHT
‘I WAS beginning to think you had changed your mind,’ Max greeted her huskily an hour and a half later, as he let her into his apartment.
In truth, she had. Several times, in fact. Her emotions had fluctuated between wanting to see Max, to be with him and the other extreme of wondering why he had made love to her last night—whether it was because he loved her as she loved him, or for some other reason.
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