Such Sweet Poison/Blind Passion

by Anne Mather

  ‘So, what is wrong?’ Alan protested now. ‘Helen, I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but I do need an assistant who has some interest in her work.’

  Helen shook her head. ‘I am interested—’

  ‘—but not enthusiastic,’ Alan interrupted drily. ‘Ever since you came back from holiday, you’ve lost that elusive spark. What happened, for pity’s sake? What did he do? I guess it has something to do with that pop singer you went on holiday with. I heard you’re not seeing him any more.’

  Helen stared at him indignantly. ‘How did you hear that?’

  ‘From one of the girls in the typing pool.’ Alan looked a little embarrassed now, and he ran a rueful hand over his balding scalp. ‘Well, that car of his hasn’t been around lately, has it?’ he defended himself. ‘And what with the way you’ve been working, and everything—’

  ‘—you put two and two together and made five?’

  Alan sighed. ‘Not exactly. Helen, I may be impatient over your work, but I do care about you. If you are having some problems with this bloke, and I can help you with it, you’ve only to say.’

  Helen shook her head now, her momentary indignation dispersing. ‘It’s nothing like that,’ she said. And then, because he deserved some explanation, she added, ‘We have split up, as you surmised. But it was a mutual agreement. Not something I’m upset over.’

  Alan gazed at her helplessly. ‘Then what is the matter with you? Helen, you have to admit, you’re not your usual efficient self. You gave me the wrong figures to take into that meeting this morning, and I had to spend at least half an hour ad-libbing my way around the estimate.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ Helen bent her head. ‘I—I’m just tired, I suppose.’

  ‘But why are you tired? Aren’t you sleeping? If not, I suggest you get yourself to the doctor. A young woman of your age—you should have no problems sleeping at all.’

  ‘No.’

  Helen acknowledged his appraisal of her condition, and promised she would go and see her doctor if the situation persisted. Then, when he suggested she could finish early, she collected her bag and left the office, grateful for the chance to get out into the afternoon sunshine.

  Alan Wright’s engineering company was situated near Paddington Station, but Helen caught a bus to Earl’s Court, and walked the rest of the way home. Her apartment was situated on the first floor of a converted Victorian mansion, just off Goldhawk Road. It was not a particularly up-market area at the moment, but it was rapidly becoming so. At present, young couples lived in the building, saving hard to buy homes of their own. And, as all the apartments had window boxes, which at this time of the year were overflowing with fuchsias and geraniums, the old building had a distinctly winsome charm.

  From Helen’s point of view, it was a welcome sight at any time. It was home; and, although she knew she and Alexa were always welcome at her parents’ home, it was good to have a place of their own.

  Of course, Alexa wasn’t there at the moment. She was at her grandparents’. Mrs Caldwell was going to bring her over at teatime. But, Helen thought suddenly, if she took a quick shower and went to collect her, they could spend at least an hour in the park. It would take her mind off what Alan had said, and perhaps help her to pull herself together.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  THE BUZZER WENT as Helen was taking her shower. Its insistent sound penetrated even the falling spray of water, and Helen sighed impatiently as she clambered out of the bath. She guessed it must be her father, who finished early on Fridays, and must have decided to drive Alexa and her mother over to the flat instead of letting them catch the bus. But he could certainly choose his moments, she thought, grabbing a towel and wrapping it round her. With her hair wet, and dripping on to her shoulders, it wasn’t easy to feel grateful.

  It was only as she ran across the living-room carpet that she realised it couldn’t be her father. He didn’t finish that early, and, so far as her parents were concerned, she’d still be at work for hours yet. She guessed it was a door-to-door salesman, ringing all the buzzers to see if anyone was in. That made her feel even less sociable, and by the time she reached the entry phone, which was situated in the tiny hall of the flat, she felt angry and resentful.

  ‘Yes?’ she said tersely, picking up the receiver with wet hands.

  ‘Helen?’

  The instantly identifiable voice caused her to drop the phone. For an awful moment she thought she must be hallucinating, and that she hadn’t heard the buzzer at all, or the achingly familiar tones in her ear. She must be having delusions, she thought sickly; there was no way Reed could be here, in England, standing outside the door. Apart from anything else, he didn’t know where she lived.

  ‘Helen?’ He said her name again, and the fears that she was losing her mind fled. ‘Helen, may I come in? I want to talk to you.’

  It really was him! Another wave of apprehension swept over her. Why was he here? she wondered. Dear God, had he found out about Alexa?

  ‘Helen, for heaven’s sake, will you answer me?’

  He sounded angry now; angry and frustrated. As well he might, she thought unsteadily. So long as she didn’t speak, he couldn’t be sure it was her.

  Hardly knowing what she was doing, she replaced the phone on its cradle, and backed away from it. He couldn’t get in, she told herself. The door downstairs had a safety lock, and unless he had a key there was no way he could gain entry to the house. So long as she, or someone else, didn’t press the release button, the door remained closed. And at this time of day she was probably the only tenant in the building.

  Which wasn’t totally reassuring, she conceded ruefully. If Reed did get in, there was going to be no one else around to help her. But why should she need help anyway? she asked herself impatiently. For God’s sake, she was getting paranoiac.

  She wished her apartments overlooked the road at the front of the house, but they didn’t. They overlooked the garden. And while that was very nice, from the point of view of not hearing the traffic, it wasn’t very satisfying if you wanted to observe the entrance.

  The buzzer sounded again. It seemed louder now, but that was only because she was standing right next to it. It rang again and again, until she wanted to put her hands over her ears to stop the noise. And then it went silent, which somehow was much worse.

  Abandoning the hall, she ran back across the living-room and through the bedroom into the bathroom. Unfortunately, the flats were not custom-built, and consequently the rooms led one from another. Picking up another towel, she rubbed violently at her hair, and then, dropping the towel she had wrapped around her, she pulled on her old towelling bathrobe, which was hanging on the back of the door.

  Crossing the living-room again, she reached the hall, and paused uncertainly. The entry phone was still silent, but she had to know if Reed was still outside. And the only way to find out was to open her door, and step out on to the landing. The landing window overlooked the front of the house, and if she craned her neck she would be able to see if he was standing on the path below.

  Not that it would do much good, she acknowledged, her brows drawn together anxiously, as she unlocked her front door. If he had gone away, it would probably only be a temporary departure. He was bound to come back, and it was up to her to make sure he didn’t find her at home. They could stay at her parents’, she thought tensely. If she explained the situation to her mother, she was sure she would help her. But would she? a small voice taunted. Perhaps her mother would take a totally different view.

  She latched the door open, and, securing the belt of her bathrobe, stepped outside. The rubber-floored landing was cold to her bare feet, but she scarcely noticed it. She was totally intent on reaching the window, and when someone cleared their throat behind her she almost jumped out of her skin.

  ‘Reed!’ she gasped, pressing a disbelieving hand to her throat, and he straightened from his lounging position beside her door. Her eyes darted to her open doorway, as if gauging her chances of reach
ing it, but he moved to block the entrance, and she expelled her breath on a sigh. She should have waited to put her clothes on, she reflected, aware of her disadvantage. Not that she rated her chances of running away from him. Even though he was older, he was probably much fitter.

  Not that he looked it, she acknowledged, unable to prevent herself from making an involuntary appraisal of his appearance. He looked as if he’d lost weight; and he looked tired, too, she noticed anxiously. The lines that scored his face accentuated an expression of weary resignation, and she felt a wave of compassion that threatened her common sense.

  ‘Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?’ Reed asked now, adjusting the black leather jacket he had draped over one shoulder. Its dark pigmentation robbed his face of all colour, and his eyes between their long lashes were sombrely intent. ‘Why wouldn’t you speak to me? I know you knew who it was.’

  Helen moistened her dry lips. ‘Perhaps I didn’t want to speak to you,’ she said, his anger making it easier for her to remain calm. ‘Wh-what are you doing here? If you’re looking for Jon, I haven’t see him—’

  ‘I’m not looking for Jon,’ replied Reed, glancing through the door behind him. ‘Look, couldn’t we go inside? I haven’t slept for about thirty-six hours, and I could use a beer, if you have one.’

  ‘No—’

  Helen spoke automatically, not trusting herself alone with this man. Already he had aroused her sympathy. What more might he arouse if she allowed him into the flat? She had to think of Alexa. Alexa…

  ‘Why have you come?’ she asked impulsively. She had to know if he knew the truth. She would have no peace if she let him go without asking. And if he didn’t want Jon, what other reason could he have for being here?

  Reed sighed, and sagged against the wall. ‘So much for British hospitality,’ he said, his eyes dark and cynical as they held hers. ‘Hell’s teeth!’ He pushed long fingers into the hair at the back of his neck. ‘Why do you think I’ve come? To see you, of course. What else? To find out if there’s any chance of us starting over.’

  Helen’s lips parted. ‘Starting over?’ she echoed faintly, while her brain tried to take in what he was saying. Why on earth should he want to see her again, to ‘start over’ as he put it, unless he knew about Alexa? And if he knew about Alexa why didn’t he just say so?

  Panic made her careless. There was no time to think about what she could do, what she should do. She loved him. Oh, God, how she loved him! But she had to protect herself, and Alexa. She couldn’t live with him knowing he had only used her as a means of getting to his daughter.

  Before he could divine what she planned to do, she darted past him, squeezing through the doorway of her apartment, and pressing the door shut behind her. But she wasn’t quite quick enough. His booted foot blocked the threshold just as the door was closing. And, although she fought to keep him out, his strength was still superior to hers.

  ‘For God’s sake!’ he swore, as the door slammed back against the wall and Helen stood helplessly before him. ‘Are you crazy? Or am I? I actually thought you might be pleased to see me!’

  Helen’s body froze. She couldn’t fight him any more, she thought despairingly. Whatever reason he had had for coming here, she no longer had the will to deny him. And when he looked at her, as he was doing now, she didn’t even trust herself to speak.

  He looked at her for a long time, and then, as if coming to a decision, he turned back towards the open doorway. ‘I see you want me to go,’ he said, his lips twisting with some emotion she could only guess at. ‘Why did I ever imagine otherwise?’ he added, half to himself, and hunching his shoulders he stepped back over the threshold.

  ‘No—’

  The strangled sound she made was barely recognisable, even to Helen. But she couldn’t let him go. No matter how reckless that decision was, she couldn’t let him walk away. Not without telling him how she felt.

  He didn’t turn however. He merely halted in the doorway, as if he was not actually convinced of what he had heard, and Helen, compelled into action, moved towards him. Putting out her hands, she balled them into fists for a moment, before gathering the courage required to touch him. Then, almost tentatively, she put her hands on his hips, and the shudder he gave ran up her wrists and into her arms.

  Breathing shallowly, she stepped even closer, and leaning towards him she pressed her lips to the hollow of his spine. The scent of his warm body rose through the thin fabric of his shirt, and her lips moistened the cloth where they touched. But it was intensely satisfying to feel his involuntary response, and gaining confidence from the experience she slid her arms around his waist.

  He moved then. As her hands spread against the taut muscles of his midriff, he made a sound low in his throat, and turned towards her. ‘God—Helen!’ he muttered, slamming the door with one hand and capturing her nape with the other. Then, tilting her face up to his, he found her mouth, and the urgent pressure of his lips destroyed all coherent thought.

  They’d kissed before, but not like this; not blindly, passionately, soulfully, so that Helen felt as if she had no will of her own. It was as if she had waited all her life for this moment, and she refused to allow the complications she would have to face for letting this happen to interfere with this brief taste of happiness. The past was dead, and gone, and the future was too uncertain. But right now she was where she wanted to be, and if she had to pay for it later, then so be it.

  His hands cupped her face, his thumbs brushing the underside of her lips, and causing them to part. Then, when her mouth opened wide to the sensuous demand of his, his tongue slid into that warm cavern, hot, and wet, and hungrily intent.

  Helen clung to him then, because not to do so would have caused her knees to buckle. She burrowed against him, her eager actions loosening his shirt from his trousers at the back, her hands sliding over his smooth skin. His skin was moist beneath her palms, and she wished she could taste him. She wanted to wind her self about him, and never let him go, and, lifting the sole of her foot, she ran it sensuously down his muscled calf.

  He caught his breath, his lips moving from hers to find the scented hollow of her shoulder. His hands slid inside the towelling bathrobe, and as they did so she felt the trickling dampness of her hair on her neck. It brought a brief moment of clarity, and Helen was starkly reminded of her appearance, and of what a mess she must look. But then he pushed the offending robe off her shoulders, and a wave of embarrassment took its place.

  ‘Don’t,’ he said huskily, as her hands automatically moved to cover herself. ‘Don’t,’ he said again, grasping her wrists, and drawing them aside. ‘Let me look. I want to. I’ve thought of little else for the past four weeks.’

  Helen moved her head helplessly from side to side. ‘I—we—I can’t,’ she got out jerkily, but Reed wasn’t listening to her. With an infinitely sensual flattening of his mouth, his hands had moved to cup her breasts, and when his thumbs grazed the dusky nipples they offered themselves eagerly to his caress.

  ‘Oh, love,’ he breathed, not quite coherently, and her heart missed a beat. ‘Touch me,’ he added, drawing her hands towards him, and although she wanted to look anywhere else her eyes were drawn to the unmistakable arousal of his body.

  But, even so, she hesitated. This was all so new to her, and standing here, naked, in the hallway of her home, was still too unnatural to be borne.

  ‘We—we should lock the door,’ she said inanely, dipping her legs, as if to bend and pick up her bathrobe, and then thinking better of it. ‘Some—someone might call.’

  ‘Oh, yes.’ Reed’s eyes, dark with desire, seemed unwilling to leave hers, but he turned automatically, and dropped the latch she had set to stay open. Then, when she still made no move to touch him, he unbuttoned his own shirt and tore it off his shoulders, dropping it on the floor beside her bathrobe and his jacket. Stepping over all of them, he lifted her into his arms and walked into the living-room.

  ‘I want you,’ he said, and she had
no doubt that he meant what he said. And she wanted him too, she thought unsteadily. But how could she tell him that, since he had made love to her, there had been no one else? That for all she had a nine-year-old daughter, she still felt as inexperienced as she had that night ten years ago?

  He found the bedroom easily enough. It wasn’t difficult. There was only one bedroom, which she shared with Alexa. His lips twisted a little wryly when he saw the two narrow single beds, and for a moment Helen knew a renewed sense of panic. She shouldn’t be doing this, she thought restively. If she allowed this to happen now, she would never be able to sleep here again without thinking what she had done, and for a second she struggled in his arms.

  But then he laid her on the bed, unknowingly choosing her bed of the two, and she was lost. When he unbuckled the belt of his denims and stepped out of them, before coming down beside her, she no longer had the strength to resist him. His lean body was too desirable, too attractive, too familiar and the brush of his hair-roughened skin against hers was unbelievably voluptuous.

  She didn’t need him to tell her to touch him now. She couldn’t keep her hands off him, and when his mouth found hers again she wound her arms around his waist and slipped her fingers under the waistband of his silk underpants.

  His buttocks were taut and smooth, like the rest of him, she thought sensuously, peeling off the pants with unsteady fingers. And he let her. He let her do anything she wanted, and only when his throbbing masculinity sprang into her hands did he utter a groan of protest.

  His mouth left hers then, and moved down over her body. He found the fullness of her breasts, and took one engorged nipple between his teeth. He bit it tenderly, taking care not to hurt her, and she moaned helplessly beneath that sensual ravishment. Her hands gripped his shoulders as he moved to tease her other breast, her nails digging into his flesh and unknowingly breaking the skin.