by Helen Brooks
‘Thanks, but it’s better I get this over and done with as quickly as possible and without antagonising him before a word’s said.’
Clara nodded. ‘As long as you’re up to it.’
Up to it? Never in a hundred years. ‘Course I am,’ Miriam said brightly.
‘You ought to make it clear you’re going to take him for every penny you can get,’ the normally unmaterialistic Clara said darkly. ‘The rat.’
‘I don’t want his money,’ said Miriam simply. ‘I just want out with the minimum of fuss.’ She still felt too bruised, too sore to engage in a fight over who had what. Besides, she had brought nothing into the marriage; all the wealth was Jay’s and he could keep it.
Clara surveyed her under kohl-blackened lids. ‘He’s an idiot to have lost you.’
‘He doesn’t think so.’
‘You look great tonight anyway.’ Now Clara was bracing. ‘You’ll knock him dead.’
She wished. Miriam turned and looked at herself in the mirror. Clara had come round as soon as she had got in from work, announcing she intended to keep her company until zero hour, as she’d put it.
Miriam had appreciated the thought, but in truth she’d rather have got ready in peace so she could go over—for the umpteenth time—the question-and-answer scenarios she’d played endlessly in her head since Tuesday. She felt so incredibly nervous, and now she was wondering if the plum jersey wool dress with a deep V-neck was dressy enough for dinner with Jay. She supposed it depended on where he was taking her, but Jay invariably favoured the more upmarket places.
She surveyed her reflection. Her black stiletto court shoes and ridiculously expensive designer jacket, which she had bought especially for tonight, gave the outfit that exclusive edge though, she comforted herself after another sweeping glance. They should do; they’d practically emptied her bank account.
‘You’ll be absolutely fine.’ Clara had obviously read her thoughts. ‘You will, Miriam. Really. Look, you’re over him; that’s what you have to keep telling yourself. You’re the one in control now. OK?’
She could tell herself that all she wanted, but she knew the truth. Swallowing hard, Miriam muttered, ‘What’s the time?’ just as the buzzer in the bedsit sounded. ‘It’s him.’ Pure panic set in as she stared at Clara. ‘I can’t do this.’
‘Of course you can.’
‘I’m not like you.’
‘That’s true, you’re not. No one’s like me. At least, I hope not or else the effort I put in to being an original is totally wasted.’ Clara gave another of her Cheshire-cat grins. ‘Do you want me to answer?’
‘No, I’ll do it.’ Taking a deep breath, Miriam pressed the button. ‘Hello?’
‘Miriam? It’s Jay.’
Miriam’s stomach did a somersault. ‘I’ll be right down.’ There was no way she was going to give him the satisfaction of seeing how she lived now. The house she had rented with her friends when she’d met him hadn’t exactly been the Ritz, but they’d had a lovely shared sitting room and kitchen-diner and each of their bedrooms had been a double. Not that she was ashamed of her bedsit, she told herself silently, but she wasn’t going to give him any chance of crowing about her reduced circumstances.
‘You’ll be fine,’ Clara said again after some moments when Miriam still hadn’t moved. ‘Here, take your bag.’ She handed it to her, adding, ‘Come on,’ as she opened the bedsit door. ‘I want to see him.’
‘You can’t.’ Miriam stared at her in horror.
‘I can. I’m going to get a paper at the shop down the road. Now, is it my fault your husband just happens to be standing on the doorstep when I open the door?’
‘Clara, he’ll know.’
‘So?’ Clara’s voice was determined. ‘Don’t worry, he won’t be in any doubt as to how I regard him, handsome or not.’
That was what worried her. Miriam followed Clara down the stairs as fast as her vertiginous heels would allow. ‘Promise me you won’t say anything,’ she begged frantically. ‘Promise me, Clara.’
‘I promise.’
‘Cross your heart and hope to die.’
‘If you insist,’ Clara said brightly over her shoulder.
‘Say it.’
They had just reached the lobby and as Miriam clutched at Clara’s arm the front door opened, the girl who shared Miriam’s floor choosing that moment—of all moments—to make one of her rare trips home. Miriam wasn’t really aware of Caroline’s cheery ‘Hi’ as she sashayed past them, making for the stairs; her whole being was taken up with the tall, dark man who had put out a hand to prevent the door closing again.
‘Hello, Miriam.’
She stared into the yellow-gold eyes that had fascinated her from day one. Everything about Jay had fascinated her, from his hard, handsome face with its thick eyelashes and sexy, slightly cynical mouth to his big muscled body that was as lean and toned as any prime athlete’s. From somewhere she found the self-control to say fairly steadily, ‘Hello, Jay.’
‘I’m going to get a paper,’ Clara announced to the lobby in general rather than anyone in particular, removing herself from Miriam’s grip.
Miriam saw Jay’s eyes widen as he took in the other girl, and he looked even more taken aback when Clara gave him a ferocious glare as she passed him without speaking. If she hadn’t been feeling so wretched it would have made her smile, Miriam thought. As it was, she cleared her throat and said quietly, ‘That was Clara. She lives here too.’
‘Right.’ His eyes had narrowed. ‘I take it she knows about our current situation?’
‘She’s my friend.’
‘So I gathered from the way she looked at me.’ He waved his hand in the direction of the street. ‘The taxi’s waiting.’
He took her arm as she reached him and it took every ounce of Miriam’s will for her not to reveal the trembling his touch caused.
He smelt as good as always. The thought was there at the back of her mind as they walked to the taxi-cab and Jay helped her inside with the natural courtesy that was an integral part of him. And he looked fantastic in a beautifully tailored suit and cream shirt and tie. But then he always looked fantastic, with or without clothes.
She turned her head to look out of the window as he sat down beside her, thankful he didn’t have the power to read her wanton thoughts. And that last thought had started a process that was making her hot all over.
The taxi passed Clara, who had just reached the paper shop, and as Miriam saw the pink and mauve hair disappear into the confines of the building it was all she could do not to yell to the taxi driver to stop the car so she could dash in after her.
Jay had leaned back comfortably in the seat, his thigh touching hers and the big body relaxed. ‘How are you?’ he murmured as the tawny gaze glittered over her profile.
Miriam forced herself to glance briefly at him as she said, ‘Very well. And you?’
‘Oh, I’m great, Miriam. Just great. A different woman for every night of the week, of course; isn’t that what you want to hear?’ And then he said swiftly, ‘Sorry, forget I said that. I attack when I’m nervous but then you know that.’
She had forgotten how seductive Jay’s particular brand of ruthlessness married with vulnerability was. From their first date he had let his defences down when they were alone, something he didn’t do with anyone else. At least, that was what she’d believed once. Along with the fact that he was a one-woman man.
Her thoughts made her voice tight when she said, ‘I don’t think this evening was a good idea, Jay. Whatever needs to be said could have been said over the phone.’
He made no comment to this, saying instead, ‘You look beautiful tonight, but then you always do.’
Miriam knew she wasn’t beautiful. She wouldn’t break any mirrors but she had the sort of innocent, soft looks that maiden aunts called sweet and other women dismissed as no competition. Her mother’s pet name for her as a child had been ‘little dove’, which said a lot really. What wasn’t so obvious was t
hat the temper that went with the red in her chestnut hair was there but hidden under layers of gentle friendliness. It rarely came into play but when it did it was fiery.
Aiming to keep the conversation as impersonal as possible, she said crisply, ‘If you’re wondering whether I intend to claim for anything, I’m not.’
Jay’s eyes became gold slits. ‘I’m sorry?’
‘In the divorce settlement. I don’t want anything. It’s all yours anyway—the house, the cars, everything.’
There was a long pause. When Miriam nerved herself to look at him she saw his face was grim. ‘Who’s talking about divorce?’
‘We are, surely.’
‘You might be. I’m not.’
‘But—’
‘Have you instructed anyone at the practice?’
‘Of course not. I’d discuss it with you first rather than you just having the papers arrive in the post,’ Miriam said with a touch of indignation in her voice.
‘How thoughtful.’ The sarcasm was biting.
Her soft mouth tightened. ‘But it’s clearly the next step.’
‘It might be clear to you but that’s as far as it goes, Miriam. For the record, when I stood at the altar I meant what I said. Till death and so on.’
If he carried on like this the death part might come quicker than he expected. Her anger rising, Miriam snapped, ‘And I didn’t? Is that what you’re insinuating?’
‘You’re the one wanting a divorce.’
‘And you’re the one who slept with your secretary.’
Surprisingly, her lack of control seemed to restore his equilibrium. Leaning back in the seat again and slipping an arm along at the back of her, he said lazily, ‘Don’t shout, it makes you sound like a fishwife.’
Smouldering, she glared at him. ‘I hate you.’
‘Now you merely sound childish.’
Miriam had never been prone to any kind of physical violence but her fingers itched to wipe the mocking smile off his face. Instead she contented herself with moving as close to the edge of the seat as she could and keeping her eyes on the bright lights flashing by outside.
‘Are you sulking?’ Jay asked interestedly after a while.
‘Isn’t that what children do?’ she bit back without looking at him, knowing her cheeks were burning and furious with herself for letting him get under her skin.
There was silence for a moment. ‘You look lovely when you’re angry,’ he said, deadpan.
Suddenly—worryingly—she wanted to smile and she knew she couldn’t. She was being subjected to the Carter charm and she knew from past history it was lethal. He could turn it on and off like a tap to get his own way. Forcing a calmness she didn’t feel, Miriam said carefully, ‘Jay, if this evening isn’t going to be a complete disaster I suggest we keep things on a businesslike footing, OK?’
When she glanced at him there was a twist to the stern, sexy mouth that suggested he was amused. It ought to have made her more angry but it only served to remind her how much she still fancied him.
‘You’re my wife, Miriam. Not a business colleague.’
Fair comment—not that she’d acknowledge that. ‘You know that’s not the point,’ she said evenly. ‘We’ve been separated for ten months—’
‘Not by my choice.’
She cleared her throat. ‘Nevertheless, nothing’s the same.’
‘No, you’re right; it isn’t.’
Taken aback, she stared at him. She had expected him to argue, not agree with her. Ridiculously, it hurt. Recovering herself, she said weakly, ‘There you are, then.’
‘Where we are is the restaurant.’ The cab drew up outside a brightly lit, glass-and-chrome type building as Jay spoke, the doorman standing outside and a glimpse of the swish interior convincing Miriam it was one of those places where the menu would be devoid of anything so crass as the price. ‘I hope you’re hungry. I’ve been here a couple of times since it opened in the summer and the food’s great.’
Wondering who’d partnered him, Miriam said brightly, ‘I’m starving,’ knowing she’d have to force every morsel down over the lump in her throat. Over the last months she’d just about got the hang of training her mind to stop picturing Jay with other women but tonight it was beyond her.
Jay helped her out of the cab and paid the driver, taking her elbow as he escorted her into the sumptuous confines of the restaurant. Immediately the maître d’hôtel was there, greeting Jay with a deferential warmth and leading them into a small lounge dotted with comfy leather sofas and low tables filled with nibbles as though they were royalty. Presenting them with two embossed menus which were works of art in themselves, he took their order for drinks and glided away.
Miriam looked down at her menu. It was in French and—thankfully—English. She’d been right, she thought dryly. There wasn’t a price to be seen and the choice was staggering.
‘See anything you fancy?’ Jay drawled a minute or two later as though they were in some backstreet café. They both knew if anyone couldn’t choose out of the incredible dishes on offer they didn’t deserve to be sitting there.
Miriam didn’t want to reveal how impressed she was. ‘I think so,’ she answered in like vein. ‘I’ll have the ginger-marinated salmon for starters and then tournedos of beef with wild mushrooms and orange-spiced armagnac plums.’
The wine waiter returned with their cocktails. Miriam had no idea what the sapphire martini she’d ordered would taste like but it had sounded elegant. She took a tentative sip. It was delicious. The Parfait d’Amour at the bottom of the glass was very blue and the slightly spicy Bombay Sapphire gin gave the cocktail a real kick. Warning herself it was probably very potent, she put the glass down. She needed to keep a clear head tonight; she definitely couldn’t afford to be anything less than one hundred per cent compos mentis.
Jay surveyed her over his Manhattan. ‘Not to your taste?’
‘On the contrary,’ she said politely, ‘it’s lovely.’ She had forgotten what it was like to be with Jay, to be wined and dined and cosseted.
No, she hadn’t, she corrected herself in the next breath. That was silly. Shutting out such memories had been part of the self-survival technique, that was all. She hadn’t been able to afford to let the recollection of the good times—and there had been plenty—weaken her resolve.
Forcing her voice into neutral, Miriam tried not to let him see how he was affecting her. ‘How’s Jayne?’
‘Is that a social nicety or are you really interested?’
That was unfair. Miriam’s soft brown eyes darkened. From the day Jay had introduced her to his sister the two women had got on like a house on fire. Jay’s parents had been killed ten years ago, when he was twenty-five and Jayne was sixteen. They’d been touring the States and had been involved in a freak accident when a car had left the road, mounted the pavement and killed them both instantly. Jayne had been staying with Jay while their parents were abroad and had continued to live with him until she had married a few months before Miriam and Jay had met.
‘Don’t look at me like that,’ Jay said evenly. ‘You’ve only made the effort to speak to her once or twice since we split up, so it’s a fair question.’
‘I didn’t think it was fair to put Jayne in a position where she might have to take sides.’ This was perfectly true. ‘She thinks the world of you.’
‘Meaning the side she would have taken would have been yours?’
Miriam wasn’t going to be intimidated by the edge to his voice. ‘I wasn’t the one caught cavorting with someone else,’ she pointed out coolly.
‘Cavorting?’ He seemed amused by her choice of word, the dark expression on his face clearing. ‘Miriam, puppies cavort. Or very young children.’
She saw nothing funny in this. ‘I obviously have a different slant on adultery from you.’
‘You’re still set on believing what you want to believe.’
‘Want to believe?’ Coolness went out of the window. ‘Don’t you try and turn this ro
und on me, Jay.’
The immaculate waiter who was to take their order appeared at the table and Miriam curbed her frustration. Dredging up a smile, she gave her choice of dishes and Jay followed with his. Once they were alone again, he said quietly, ‘Jayne’s just had it confirmed she’s pregnant, as it happens. They’re over the moon.’
‘That’s wonderful.’ Briefly their differences were forgotten. ‘I’m so pleased for her.’
‘Will you call her and tell her that yourself?’
Their eyes met and held. ‘I—I don’t want to upset her.’
‘You won’t,’ Jay said firmly.
Panic gripped her, squeezing her voice box so her words emerged tight and high when she said, ‘Jay, there has to be a cut-off point, you know that as well as I do. Neither of us needs complications…’ That hadn’t sounded right. ‘I don’t want to cause difficulties in your family.’
‘You’re my family, Miriam. Haven’t you realised that yet? Damn it, no one else—not even Jayne—impinges on us.’
For a second she drowned in the golden sea of his eyes, letting his words wash over her. She wanted to believe him more than anything else in the world, but she couldn’t.
Icy cold reality crashed in a wave over her head. ‘Jay, it’s over.’
‘Never in a hundred years.’ He leaned forward, his body warmth enveloping her as she sat rigid and still. ‘You’re my wife; I’ve never felt about any woman the way I feel about you.’
‘It’s a pity you didn’t think about that before you got involved with Belinda.’
For a long moment his eyes assessed her, then she saw him breathe out slowly. ‘For such a soft, gentle little thing you’ve got a will of iron, haven’t you?’ he murmured wryly. ‘But you won’t win this one, Miriam. And do you know why? Because, at the very bottom of you, you don’t want to win. You know as well as I do that we were meant to be together.’
She looked into the hard, handsome face. He was deadly serious. The strong planes of his jaw, the determined thrust to his chin were evidence that he meant every word. Almost imperceptibly, she held herself straighter. ‘Don’t tell me what I want and don’t want,’ she said very clearly.