Rich as Sin

by Anne Mather

  Samantha drew a breath. ‘No, Dad.’

  ‘What do you mean, no? Of course, he will—–’

  ‘I mean, no. I’m not going to marry Paul,’ said Samantha flatly. ‘I’m sorry if you’re disappointed, and I’m sorry if Mum was looking forward to being the mother of the bride, but this time I’ve got to do what I think is best. Not you.’

  ‘This time?’ Mr Maxwell frowned. ‘Are you saying we’ve interfered in your life before?’

  ‘Oh, Dad!’ Samantha groaned. ‘I know that anything you’ve done for me has been with my best interests at heart. But, believe me, marrying Paul would be a mistake. I know that now. So can’t you be thankful I found out, before I had to face a messy divorce?’

  Her father stared at her. ‘You said you know that now. Why now? Something must have happened to make you change your mind.’

  Samantha wanted to scream, but she didn’t. Instead, she pushed her hands into her apron pockets, and faced her father bravely. ‘All right,’ she said, hearing the catch in her voice, and doing her best to disguise it. ‘I had an affair.’ She let that news sink in, and then she added briskly, ‘But it’s over now. I shan’t be seeing him again.’

  ‘But you told your mother—–’

  ‘I lied.’ Samantha held up her hand. ‘Or, at least, I didn’t tell her the whole truth. There is no one else.’ She paused, and then added uncomfortably, ‘There was—but there isn’t now.’

  Her father looked stunned. ‘An affair!’ he echoed weakly. ‘Oh, Sam!’

  ‘It’s not the end of the world!’ exclaimed Samantha tersely, her own nerves dangerously near to breaking-point. ‘As I say, it’s over now, and no harm done.’ At least, she hoped not. Matthew had probably assumed she was on the Pill. Until he discovered she hadn’t been with a man, of course. But, by then, it was too late.

  ‘But an affair,’ protested her father helplessly, and Samantha realised how naïve he was in this day and age. It was partly her fault, she supposed. Her relationship with Paul had shielded her from the common demands of her generation, and they had all become a little smug because of it. But life wasn’t like that, and she should have realised her bland existence could only survive in limbo.

  ‘I’m sorry, Dad,’ she apologised now, feeling a little guilty for springing it on him this way. ‘I didn’t want to hurt you.’

  ‘No.’ Mr Maxwell shook his head. ‘No, I suppose you didn’t.’ He paused. ‘Have you told Paul?’

  ‘Not yet.’ Samantha shrugged. ‘He—still thinks he can get me to change my mind. I don’t think he’ll be so eager when I tell him what I’ve done.’

  ‘Oh, Sam!’ Her father sighed. ‘You’ve shocked me, you really have. I never would have thought it of you.’

  ‘No.’ Samantha conceded the point. ‘If it’s any consolation, nor would I.’

  Which didn’t augur well for the rest of the day. Mr Maxwell left without even having his usual sandwich, and Samantha spent the remainder of the lunch period in a state of weary aggravation. She felt like a child again, who’d just received a dressing-down from the school head. She was twenty-four years old, and had been running her own business for over two years, and she still felt as crushed as a teenager. For heaven’s sake, she argued silently, what she’d done was no big deal. Not really. Most of her friends had had affairs before they’d left college.

  But they weren’t engaged, she admitted ruefully, and if she’d been so desperate to spread her wings, why couldn’t she have done it with someone else, someone she could at least respect? Matthew Putnam was the pits. He was a cheat and a liar, and he hadn’t a grain of decency in his body. He had thought nothing about seducing her and then rushing off to see Melissa. She hoped the other woman gave him hell. He deserved it for what he’d done to her.

  Or did he? Samantha sighed. The truth was, she didn’t like herself any better. What bugged her most was the fact that, if Matthew hadn’t walked out as he had, she’d most probably have agreed to continue the affair until he got tired of her. It was so humiliating. She’d been so sure he still wanted her, particularly after those unforgettable hours in her bed. When his mother had told her he had left to go back to London to be with Melissa, she had been completely devastated. It had even crossed her mind that Mrs Putnam might be making the whole thing up, and that was why she had deliberately joined the rest of the family for supper. But it had been true. The looks—sometimes sympathetic, sometimes malicious—that had been cast in her direction as she ate had convinced her of that. And Matthew’s grandfather had only confirmed her suspicions. She didn’t know Matthew at all.

  At least it had brought her to her senses, she reflected later that afternoon, after Debbie had gone to get her bus. Given the fact that Matthew was not to be relied on, wasn’t it better to realise it now, rather than spend weeks—months even—pursuing a goal that didn’t exist? He had hurt her, it was true, but she’d get over it. And she hadn’t had time to feel his loss.

  She was about to leave the café to go home when someone rattled the door. ‘We’re closed,’ she called, collecting her bag and keys from the office, and threading her way between the tables. She adjusted the blind and opened the door. ‘I’m sorry, we—–’

  Her voice trailed away into silence. Mondays were usually busy days, and it wasn’t unusual for customers to try and get served after hours. She had assumed it was one of the small-holders from the market, wanting a cup of tea and a toasted teacake before driving home. But it wasn’t. It was Matthew. And, for all her much-vaunted practicality, her knees wobbled.

  ‘Can I come in?’ he asked, his eyes resting disturbingly on her mouth, and Samantha let out her breath in a rush. He was the last person she had expected to see, and it took longer than she had expected to pull her wits together.

  ‘I—no,’ she denied, after a moment, though his leather-clad frame successfully blocked her exit. ‘I was just leaving,’ she added, as if it was relevant. ‘Please will you get out of my way?’

  Matthew didn’t move, except to raise one arm and rest it against the wooden frame. From that position of dominance, he looked down at her half impatiently, and she wished she hadn’t opened the door and given him the advantage.

  ‘I have to talk to you, Sam,’ he said, and, although she was sure this was all just another move in the game to him, there was no trace of humour in his eyes. On the contrary, they were red-rimmed, and brooding, and painfully intent. They roamed over her face and figure with a thoroughness she would have found insolent from anyone else. But she was in such a nervous state that she didn’t have time to object to his appraisal.

  ‘I don’t think we have anything to talk about,’ she said tersely, desperate for some way to get him off her doorstep. ‘Look, we’ve had this conversation before, and nothing’s changed. You and I—we just don’t have anything in common. I was a fool to let you talk me into going to Delphus, and now I’d like to forget all about it.’

  ‘That’s not true, and you know it.’ Matthew’s voice was harsh. He glanced up and down the High Street, as if gauging whether their altercation was attracting any attention. Then, without giving her notice of his intentions, he removed his arm from the door frame and used it to propel her back into the empty café. And, with his shoulders against the glass panels, the door closed heavily behind him. ‘Now,’ he said, unzipping his jerkin to reveal an open-necked shirt of dark green silk, ‘let’s drop the “I don’t know what you’re doing here” routine, shall we? We have some unfinished business. I want to know why you walked out on me.’

  ‘Why I walked out on you!’ Samantha caught her breath, but his audacity gave her the spurt she needed. ‘Forgive me, but I was under the impression that you had walked out on me! How is Miss Mainwaring, by the way? All the better for seeing you, no doubt.’

  Matthew’s lips tightened. ‘All right. I deserved that, I suppose. I did leave without seeing you, but my mother explained, didn’t she? Melissa’s mother was fairly frantic on the phone, and I guess she believed
it was more serious than it was. Sufficiently so that I didn’t ask questions. I just grabbed a ride with Spiro, and took the next plane back to London.’

  Samantha managed not to show any emotion at this evidence of his continuing involvement with Melissa. Indeed, with every word he spoke she was growing colder and colder. His arrogance appalled her. What kind of a woman did he think she was?

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ she said now, still finding it difficult to meet his gaze without flinching. She checked the clasp of her handbag, and tucked it under her arm with businesslike firmness. Anything to avoid looking at the brown column of his throat emerging from the open neck of his shirt. Or remembering how smooth his skin had felt beneath her hands, with its light but silky pelt of fine dark hair.

  ‘Don’t say that.’ Matthew made a sound that was suspiciously like a moan, and straightened away from the door. ‘Sam, you have to believe me when I tell you, I’d never have gone if I’d known then what I know now. They said she’d tried to commit suicide. They said she’d been rushed to the hospital, and that she was presently undergoing treatment. What was I supposed to think? My God, they made it sound as if it was all my fault!’

  ‘And was it?’ Samantha’s question was automatic.

  ‘No.’ Matthew raked restless fingers through his hair. ‘Sam—Melissa and I—that’s history. I don’t care if I never see her again.’

  That brought her head up, but the heat radiating from Matthew’s eyes made her look away again. It also brought a little bloom of colour blossoming in her neck, and she put a nervous hand to her throat.

  ‘I—I’m not really interested,’ she declared at last, concentrating on the fact that there was a menu missing from the table in the window. ‘How you choose to treat your ex-girlfriends is entirely up to you. I’ve told you how I feel. I wish you’d go away, and let me get on with my life.’

  ‘Like hell!’ With the oath still issuing from his tongue, he closed the space between them, his hands descending on her shoulders with unmistakable intent. ‘You want me,’ he muttered unsteadily, forcing her chin up with his thumbs, so that he could see her face. ‘No. Don’t look away from me. We want each other, Sam. You know it as well as I do. God, baby, did you honestly think I’d let you go?’

  Samantha shivered. It was the moment of truth, and she was no more ready for it now than she had ever been. The grip of his hands, the heat of his skin, the heady scent of the soap he used, which mingled with the sharper odour of his body, all combined to seduce her reason. She had never dreamed he might come after her; never imagined that, having sent her back to London, he might want to see her again. The memory of his lovemaking came back to torment her, and an actual physical ache for the pleasure he had taught her was sapping her resistance.

  But it was only lust, she warned herself repeatedly. He wanted her; the undisguised arousal of his body showed her that. But that was all. As she had assured herself many times on the flight back from Athens, he had never pretended otherwise. Apart from anything else, she didn’t fit into his world. With Matthew, there could be no lasting commitment.

  So, though it took every ounce of will-power she possessed, Samantha forced herself to remain passive in his arms. She didn’t attempt to fight him. She knew from past experience that that would do no good. When it came to brute strength, Matthew would always have the upper hand. And she had no desire to cause a conflagration that might consume them both.

  ‘Damn you!’ Matthew cupped her face in his strong hands and gazed down at her with dark frustrated eyes. ‘Damn you,’ he muttered again. ‘Don’t do this to me, Sam. You know how I feel about you. I would have come sooner, only I’d promised the old man I’d stay for his birthday party. I haven’t slept a wink since I left Delphus on Friday night.’

  Samantha steeled herself. Matthew in any mood was attractive. Matthew in this mood was well-nigh irresistible.

  ‘I—can’t help that,’ she got out jerkily. ‘You—you should have stayed with Melissa. I’m sure she’d have been only too happy—–’

  ‘Will you shut the hell up about Melissa?’ he snarled menacingly. ‘I don’t give a damn about Melissa!’

  ‘That’s not what your mother said.’

  The words were unwise, and impulsive. She knew that as soon as they were uttered, but it was too late then. His brows descended, and his thumbs dug almost painfully into her cheekbones. ‘My mother?’ he echoed. ‘What—exactly—did my mother tell you?’

  Samantha’s shoulders made an involuntary gesture. ‘She—she just said that you—that she—hoped—you’d eventually marry Melissa—–’

  ‘My God!’

  ‘—and that—that—was what the rest of the family hoped as well.’

  ‘Beautiful!’ On Matthew’s lips it was an oath. ‘And you believed her?’

  Samantha shrugged. ‘I’ve told you, I—it’s nothing to do with me.’ She paused, and then went on doggedly, ‘I’ve had time to think, and I realise now that it was probably the best thing that could happen. We’re from two different worlds, Matt. It was never going to work, and you know it.’

  ‘You don’t mean that.’

  ‘I do.’ Samantha gathered strength from the look of uncertainty on his face. ‘There was never going to be any future for our relationship. I was just a novelty. I belonged to someone else, and you couldn’t bear to think I might prefer Paul to you.’

  Matthew’s mouth flattened. ‘You didn’t sleep with Paul.’

  ‘No.’ Samantha held up her head. ‘Because he had too much respect for me as a person—–’

  ‘Respect be damned,’ retorted Matthew harshly. ‘You didn’t sleep with him because he didn’t make you feel the way I do. Don’t trivialise what we had together. It was good—–’

  ‘It wasn’t real,’ she protested, but his continued nearness was wearing her down.

  ‘That’s not true.’ Matthew’s hands left her face to shape her throat, and then moved down, over the quivering sides of her breasts, to the slender swell of her hips. He watched her as his hands explored her body, and it was the hardest thing Samantha had ever done to stand still in his grasp. ‘It was so real, it was the best thing that ever happened to me,’ he told her huskily. ‘I want you in my life, Sam. You’re warm, and passionate, and endlessly desirable. I want you to come and live with me. I’ve only got an apartment at the moment, but if you’d rather we lived in a house then we’ll buy one. All things are possible, because I love you. If you care for me at all, for God’s sake don’t turn me down.’

  Samantha trembled. She couldn’t believe it. Matthew had said he loved her. He had actually said he loved her. Dear God, what was she supposed to do now?

  And, as if the bemused expression that had crossed her face at his words had given him some encouragement, he bent his head and caressed her ear with his tongue. ‘Don’t look so surprised,’ he whispered with wry humour, his hands on her hips urging her against his heavy arousal. ‘You don’t imagine I enjoy living in a constant state of frustration, do you?’

  Samantha couldn’t speak. Her cheek was pressed against the soft leather of his jerkin and the skin of his throat was only inches from her lips. She could see the shadow of his chest hair under his silk shirt, and knew it arrowed down to the virile pubescence that cradled his manhood. She already knew how that felt against her softness. In fact, it was frightening to realise how familiar she was with his lean body, and how vivid were the memories his words conjured up.

  ‘I—can’t,’ she got out at last, fighting for her own salvation, and Matthew let out a strangled cry.

  ‘Why can’t you?’ he demanded, drawing back to rest his forehead against hers. ‘You want me. I know you do. And—you may even learn to love me one day. So long as we’re together, I’m prepared to take the chance.’

  ‘Well, I’m not.’ In spite of the fact that his mouth was only inches from her own, and the temptation to taste it was almost unbearable, she had to keep her head. ‘Is—is this what you told Melissa?’ she
asked, her hands firm against his jacket. ‘Before she realised you had no intention of marrying her?’

  ‘Oh, God!’ Matthew groaned. ‘I thought I told you to forget about Melissa. My relationship with her was never like this, believe me. I may have thought I loved her once, but now I know differently.’ He gave a grim laugh. ‘Do I ever!’

  Samantha swallowed. ‘So what are you saying?’ She was sure she already knew the answer, but she had to know. ‘Is this—a proposal?’

  ‘A proposal!’

  In the seconds before Matthew could avert his gaze, she saw the stunned expression in his eyes, and her heart faltered. She had known it all along, of course. Nothing could have been further from the truth. Matthew didn’t want a wife—particularly not someone like her. He wanted something entirely different.

  But, even as she wrenched herself away from him, he was recovering his confidence. ‘Sam,’ he began, the beguiling softness of his voice belying the insensitivity of his words, ‘don’t you think one engagement is enough for the time being?’

  ‘You—–’

  Words escaped her, and before she could summon up the right ones to get him out of there the door behind them opened, and Paul Webster stepped into the café.

  ‘Sam,’ he said, eyebrows raised, his voice cool and suspicious. He looked at Matthew, then back at Samantha. ‘Is something wrong?’

  Samantha felt an insane desire to laugh. Of all the people to walk into the café, it had to be Paul. Of course, she’d known the night before, when she gave him back his ring, that he hadn’t believed she really meant it. But, even so, she hadn’t expected him to turn up here today. It was just as if last night had never happened, and she didn’t know whether to be glad or sorry.