Lonely Pride

by Tricia McGill

  * * *

  Sam backed into a parking bay in front of Mac’s clinic soon after lunch the next day. Barbara looked pleased when she’d told her she intended taking Rusty to have his stitches removed. “Mac makes his field trips in the morning. So if you wish to see him, not his partner, you’d best go later,” she said, obviously fully aware Sam had no inclination to see Clare.

  The house Mac had converted was a large and pleasing rambling weatherboard with a few shrubs along the front fence. Barbara had given her directions where to find it.

  Sam clipped Rusty’s leash to his collar, and despite his injury he was eager to get into the house, once he realized where they were.

  The young woman behind the counter grinned as they entered. “Hi you two,” she said, coming round her desk to pat the dog, who thumped his tail against her legs. “How’s the city girl?” She gave Sam an open look of inquiry.

  Sam recognized the receptionist from high school, where she’d been a grade behind her. “Hello, Raelene,” she said. “How long have you worked here?”

  “A few months. I love it.” Raelene peered about. There was no one else in the waiting room. “I have a great boss—but of course you know that.” She lowered her voice, saying behind a hand, “I could do without the partner though. Do you remember Clare Norris?” When Sam nodded, she muttered. “Hmm. Of course you remember her. Who’d have thought she’d end up on her home patch, eh? And she’s got it real bad for the boss. Mind you, I don’t blame her for having the hots for him. Who wouldn’t?” She blushed and looked sheepish. “Didn’t you have a big thing for him once?” Her eyes lit with an inquisitive gleam.

  Sam wasn’t about to follow that line of conversation, so she ignored the question. “I’ve brought Rusty in to have his stitches checked. I think they’re ready to come out.” She handed his leash to Raelene.

  “Right.” Raelene looked slightly miffed by the obvious rebuff. “Doctor Mac said to expect you. You’re to leave Rusty with me and go along to his flat out the back. Do you know the way?”

  “No.”

  “Okay. Just go along that passageway.” She pointed to the back of the house and then took Rusty into a small room behind the desk.

  As Sam went down the passageway she drew level with an open door. Clare stood behind an examination table. For a moment they stared at each other, then Clare stepped around the table and walked to the door.

  “Well, we haven’t seen you in these parts for some time.” Her smile didn’t reach her eyes, but then it never had when directed at Sam.

  Silvery hair was cut to enhance sculptured bone structure, and Sam once again marveled at the incongruity of Clare taking up such a profession. Her enemy would be more suited in Sam’s chosen job—or as a high-class call-girl.

  That was a nasty thought, but the woman always brought out the worst in Sam. Beneath her starched white coat it was obvious Clare’s waistline had thickened. It occurred to Sam she’d also put on weight in other places too.

  “How’s city life treating you?” Everyone seemed interested in this very same thing. But, unlike the other people from her home town, Clare hadn’t asked the question from friendly interest. “Never figured you for a career girl.” She laughed without mirth. “Funny old world, isn’t it?”

  Sam shrugged. Not for the world would she let Mac’s partner see she unsettled her. “It sure is. I mean, who would have expected you to end up as a small town vet? Just goes to show how appearances deceive, doesn’t it?”

  “Just so.” Clare glanced down the hallway. “Truth is, I couldn’t resist Mac’s generous offer of a partnership.” At that moment she reminded Sam of a cat. Not a sleek house feline. No, an alley-cat, spitefully defending its territory. “Mac and I became so close during the years we spent at uni that it was natural he’d ask me to share his life with him.”

  Sam’s jaw ached as she gritted her teeth. She could feel the color draining from her face. “So, when’s the happy day?” Clare hadn’t changed one iota—was still as shallow as a champagne glass. Once she’d been as effervescent as its bubbly contents—always able to draw men like needles to a magnet. Why then did Sam’s stupid heart feel ready to crack asunder when she’d always known Mac had fallen under this bitch’s spell?

  Clare’s tinkling laugh made Sam’s skin crawl as if maggots were burrowing beneath it. “There won’t be any wedding bells yet. You know me, I’ve always been fancy-free.” She gave a silly little sigh. “But Mac’s an impatient man. I’m not sure I can hold out against his persuasion.”

  “Best not hang on too long. You’re not getting any younger,” Sam said through her teeth. A drumming in her ears threatened to deafen her. Without waiting for Clare’s answer to that she walked on to the door Raelene pointed out as the entrance door to Mac’s apartment.

  Could it be feasible Mac had proposed to Clare? One of them was lying, had always lied. How could she even begin to imagine what Mac planned? She didn’t know him anymore, did she? Hadn’t known him for a long time.

  Hesitatingly she stood by the door. Should she stay, or leave? He made up her mind for her by opening the door.

  “Sam—hello.” Sam couldn’t tell if he was surprised, pleased or indifferent to her presence. “Come in.” With a gentle but insistent hand on her arm he ushered her inside and closed the door after her. When he turned the key in the lock she looked at him in shocked surprise.

  He shrugged. “They have a habit of calling on me every five minutes. It’s one of the drawbacks to living on the job. The only way I can be sure of being left in peace is to lock myself in. I think they’ve finally accepted that when it’s locked I don’t want to be interrupted.” He plunged his hands into the pockets of his trousers. “I was just about to come looking for you.” His eyes settled on her face and she turned abruptly away.

  “I was talking to your partner.” Sam heard the bitterness in her tone.

  He didn’t answer. She looked about the room. Light from a huge bay window brought a flower-packed courtyard inside. Touching surfaces of the solid and comfortable furniture, she wandered about, knowing his gaze followed her.

  She stopped by the mantelpiece above an open fireplace, and her eyes went along the row of framed photographs lining the shelf. When she reached the largest photo, which sat in the middle, she stared in shock and surprise. A twelve-year-old girl grinned back at her. Her bright auburn hair was caught up in bunch at the back of her head. She sat atop a plump pony whose neck was circled by a blue ribbon. A lump so big she found it hard to swallow formed in Sam’s throat.

  How happy and proud she’d been on that faraway day.

  “You were lovely then, and you’re even lovelier now, kitten.” Mac’s words were delivered in a husky whisper, as she touched a finger to the grinning face in the snapshot.

  “Don’t call me that.” She hunched a shoulder as he trailed a finger down her neck. His breath on her ear was like a summer breeze. Sam felt it through to every nerve ending.

  “You used to like that nickname,” he said, sighing.

  “I liked a lot of foolish things because I was a silly girl. But I’ve grown up in case you haven’t noticed.”

  “You sure have. And yes, I noticed.” He went to sit in the middle of the large sofa and patted the cushion beside him. “Do come and sit down.” She took the few paces needed to bring her in front of him. Reaching out he clasped both her hands. “You look so great that just the sight of you makes me weak with desire.”

  She ordered her body to move away, out of his orbit, but the stupid pile of bones refused to budge. Instead she stood there and ignored her brain’s edict.

  Just being this close to him destroyed all resolve. His special scent filled her every sense as his thumbs stroked across the pulses beating heavily in her wrists. With a suddenness that shocked her he pulled her onto his lap.

  Before she could sort out her muddled thoughts he was kissing her, expertly, and very thoroughly.

  When his hand covered her breast she
shivered, with shock, and with a pleasure she couldn’t deny. His fingers found the tight nub of her nipple and she moaned.

  “That’s what you’ll miss if you marry this Peter,” he said thickly, staring into her half-closed eyes.

  Sam’s head went from side to side in denial. But she knew it was a sham. Her blood clamored through her veins, making her limbs feel heavy.

  Too late she thought to push him away, but he held her fast, murmuring, “Don’t shake your head, Sam. You know if you honestly didn’t want me to kiss you you’d have made it patently clear.”

  Before she could protest he took her mouth again, kissing her like no man had kissed her before. Sam gave up the struggle. He must have sensed her response, for he shifted until they were lying on the couch. Then he moved again, and she felt the full weight of his body pressing her into the padding of the upholstery.

  Murmuring words she could barely make out he pressed kisses over her face—her eyelids, her nose, her cheeks—time and time again returning to her mouth. Desire coiled through her like a maelstrom. Never had she known anything like it, and of their own accord her arms circled him, reveling in the feel of his muscles rippling and clenching beneath her searching touch.

  “How long I’ve waited for this,” he whispered between heated kisses. “Nothing will ever change what was between us. You know it and I know it.” He lifted his lids to gaze at her; his eyes dazed and hot with desire.

  Tears beaded in her eyes as she returned his heated stare. “It’s too late, Mac,” she said hoarsely. “I can’t ever forgive you.” Struggling out of his embrace she sat up, but he pulled her back against him, his palms cupping her breasts possessively.

  “It’s much too late for denials.”

  She squirmed as his lips caressed her nape. She had to fight him, now, before it really was too late for her foolish heart to fall into the same trap.

  He opened his arms and she stood, straightening her rumpled dress with trembling hands. With lazy eyes he watched her efforts, his own hands busy mussing his hair.

  There was a raw hunger inside her and a havoc he’d wrought with his sexy mouth and agile hands. When her legs refused to support her she sank back down, but at the farthest corner of the couch.

  His breathing seemed labored. “I have to explain about that night. You’ve got to listen. You’ve run away too many times from the truth, and this time I will not let you.” Sam shook her head and made to rise, but he closed the distance between them and grasped her hand. “I need to tell you.” She tried to shake him off but he refused to let go. “No. Just listen. Please.”

  Sam took in a deep breath and he released her.

  “When I came home from university, you’d grown so much. It seemed that in the space of time since I’d last seen you, the scrawny kid who was my best mate, had blossomed into this desirable woman who dazzled me.”

  Sam shook her head in disbelief.

  “Yes,” he insisted. “But I knew you were more child inside. I was ridiculously sensitive where you were concerned. I wanted you and knew you were too young for what I had in mind.”

  Getting up, he paced about. “I don’t know how I kept my hands off you that morning and I’m sure you knew how I felt. That special bond we shared was so unusual. And you were so special to me.” He sat again, his hands resting on his thighs. “I guessed you had a crush on me, an adolescent thing you’d convinced yourself was love, and I knew I had to give you time to test the waters—spend more time with boys of your own age. I struggled not to give in to my baser instincts.”

  “So why did you give in to those instincts with Clare?” Sam asked huskily.

  “I didn’t.” His sigh came from deep within. “That’s the whole crux of the matter. If you’d let me explain instead of going off like a woman scorned every time I tried to explain what happened then none of these misunderstandings would have taken place.”

  His hair suffered his wrath. Taking a deep breath, he continued, “Clare met me while I was out riding that afternoon after I left you at your house. You were so vibrant and lovely, and I wanted you until it was an ache burning inside me. I rode for miles to try and get the longing out of my system before facing you again at your party.”

  Could she believe him? She’d spent so many years believing the worst of him it was hard to face up to the fact she’d been hopelessly wrong.

  “I thought, feeling as I did, I might pounce on you and frighten you.”

  Sam sighed. What a hopeless mess. So many wasted years.

  “Clare rode up to me.” He stared at his clenched hands. “Despite my hints that I wished to be alone, she kept with me.” He shrugged. “You know Clare, never could take a hint.” Didn’t she just.

  “Rasputin went lame as we neared the home paddock. It was still a fair walk to the barn so she insisted I double up with her on her mare.”

  Bleakness filled his eyes. “I asked her to answer the phone because I was tending the stallion and she told me she’d passed on the information that I would be along as soon as I was able.”

  “She lied to me,” Sam whispered. “She said you weren’t coming.”

  “I gathered that later. It was nothing like it appeared to be when you came in. You could say I’d never been more surprised in my life than when she came into the stall undressed. I was pushing her away, not holding her. And it tore me apart to think you would believe her over me.”

  “But you’ve had sex with her,” Sam said in a low voice, needing to know the truth no matter how it hurt.

  “I have never slept with Clare. God help me, but you have to believe that. She was forever chasing me and we went about with the same people in Sydney. A lot of the girls were flirts, and she was no exception. It was their way of proving they were liberated females. I don’t deny I used some of them. Did you expect me to live like a monk? I know that doesn’t make me particularly admirable, but they always knew it was just sex.

  “I had this notion I could quench some of the fire that burned within me for you when you reached seventeen. All it did was make me hate myself. Clare never stopped pestering me; even though I made it clear I had no interest in her sexually.”

  Sam gazed down at her fingers clenched on her lap. “I met her outside and she seems to think you and she are an item.”

  “She’s nuts!” He cursed quietly. “If you believe her over me then I’m wasting my breath here.”

  Sam glanced at the pictures on the shelf. “It’s not relevant now, is it? I’ll be going back to Melbourne.”

  “Not to marry this Peter.”

  Sam shrugged. “That’s not the point. We can’t turn back the clock. What we shared was over long ago. It’s dead.”

  “No, it’s not. And you’re lying to yourself if you think that way.”

  Perhaps she was—but how was she to know what was truth and what was a big fat lie? She stood. “Rusty should be ready by now.”

  She hadn’t moved more than a couple of paces before he was up and blocking her path. “Never mind Rusty. This is more important. I thought I’d distorted my memories out of all proportion, but now I’ve seen you and held you again, I know I didn’t. If you’d stop kidding yourself you’d see the same. You’re body betrays you every time I touch you. There’s a bond between us that can never be severed. You hurt, and I feel the pain.”

  “If that’s so then why didn’t you feel the pain I suffered when I thought you’d betrayed me,” she cried.

  “You think I didn’t?”

  She didn’t know what to think. For now she needed to put space between them. He made no move to stop her when she unlocked the door.