by Liz Fielding
‘Do you want to?’ Sarah asked in astonishment.
‘Anthony was not very pleased.’
‘Who cares what Anthony thinks?’ She shrugged. ‘Well, perhaps you have a point. But if you ever decide to send something like that to me, be kind, send him. Please!’
‘I’ll bear it in mind,’ she said, unbending a little.
Sarah brought her a mug of coffee and watched as she sipped it. ‘So? Did he?’
‘What?’
‘Kiss you, silly?’
‘Yes, Sarah. He kissed me silly,’ she said and enjoyed the startled look that crossed Sarah’s face. ‘And before you ask, I’ll admit that it was quite an experience.’ She sipped her coffee. ‘I had lunch with him today.’
Sarah was awestruck. ‘No wonder Anthony isn’t very pleased.’
‘He doesn’t know. About the lunch.’
‘Excellent! When are you seeing him again?’
Rose sighed. ‘I wish I could say never, but frankly, I’m not optimistic.’ She stood up. ‘I’ll take this through to the bathroom. I need a soak.’
‘I expect I’ll be gone by the time you get out. Matt’s picking me up after work. I’ll stay over there tonight.’
‘It’s about time you two made it legal.’
‘If you marry Anthony I’ll ask him to move in here.’
‘Not if, Sarah. The first week of May. Tell him to start packing.’
* * *
Rose lay back in the bath and tried to forget Jack Drayton, mentally ticking off the things she had to do during the next couple of days. Top of the list was a phone call to her mother to let her know that she and Anthony had finally decided upon a date. At least she wouldn’t disapprove.
After her own unhappy experience her mother understood the qualities that would make Anthony a good husband. He was steady, reliable. She would always know where he was and what he was doing. He wouldn’t want to spend his nights in a club playing a piano for as long as there was someone to listen to him. He would never walk away and leave her without so much as a word.
From the depths of her bath she heard Matt’s arrival and, after a considerable amount of hilarity, Sarah called a brisk cheerio and banged the door behind her.
The water began to cool and she finally forced herself out, and wrapping a towelling robe around her, decided to go and make some toast and take it to bed.
‘I prefer your hair like that.’ She was halfway to the kitchen when the voice brought her to an abrupt halt. She stared in disbelief at the back of the battered old wing chair by the fire. But her ears had not deceived her. Jack Drayton was peering around the wing at her. ‘Sarah let me in,’ he said. ‘Nice girl.’
‘I’m glad you think so, because she might be in urgent need of somewhere to live unless you have a very good reason for invading my privacy.’
‘Would I bother you without a very good reason, darling Rosie?’ His eyes drifted down the contours of her throat and came to a halt at the deep vee where her breasts pushed against her robe. Self-consciously she pulled it tighter.
‘Well?’ she demanded. ‘What is it?’
He rose to his feet and moved towards her. ‘You said you’d come and hear me play.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘And you’ll have to hurry and get dressed or I’ll be late. I was beginning to think I would have to come and get you out of that bath.’
For a moment the thought of him ‘getting her out of that bath’ was too distracting to take in what he was saying, then the meaning sank through her befuddled thoughts. ‘Mike gave you a chance?’
‘Someone rang in sick apparently. This ‘flu’ bug that’s going round.’
‘I’m glad for you, Jack,’ she said. She meant it, too, but bit back the flare of excitement that threatened to erupt at the thought of hearing him play again. ‘But I can’t come with you tonight. It’s late. I have to work tomorrow.’
‘How did I know you were going to say that?’ He smiled slightly. ‘Let me quote you, Rosie. “I don’t make promises that I’m not prepared to keep.” I think I have you exactly?’
Word for word.
‘I know I promised. It’s just—’
‘It’s just that you don’t think Anthony would like you to go?’
A wry smile curved her lips. ‘I don’t think that, Jack. I know it.’
‘Then nothing has changed. You must have known that when you made your promise.’ She didn’t answer. He took a step nearer. ‘I’ll make you a trade if you like?’
She forced her eyes to meet his. They were too close and she felt vulnerable under their blue power. ‘A trade? I don’t understand.’
‘It’s perfectly simple. If you break your promise to marry Anthony, I’ll be happy to release you from your promise to me.’ The tips of his fingers reached out and touched the smooth curve of her cheek. ‘I’ll go further, Rosie. I’ll stay and tuck you up in bed myself.’
His fingers began to wander down the line of her jaw. Her hand snapped up and caught his wrist. ‘What time did you say you had to be at the club?’
‘I didn’t. But you haven’t got long to make up your mind.’ He ignored the restraint of her hand on his and effortlessly continued to trail a tiny path of fire with one fingertip towards the cleft of her gown. Briefly, she allowed the sensuous pleasure of the moment to overcome her as burgeoning nipples rose in urgent response to his touch. Her grip on his wrist slackened and she longed for his hand to slide beneath the soft cloth and cup her breast in his long hard fingers. But they halted at the barrier and she opened her eyes, slightly dazed, to find him regarding her with a question in his eyes. She swallowed. ‘I’d better go and get dressed,’ she said, her voice catching in her throat.
‘Yes, Rosie,’ he murmured, releasing her. ‘I think perhaps you should. And if you could make it snappy I’d appreciate it. I’m supposed to be playing in twenty minutes.’
The speed at which she dressed precluded thought and for that she could only be grateful. She hardly even had time to think what she might wear, except that nothing she could lay her hands on seemed right for a jazz club. Desperately she raided Sarah’s wardrobe. She wouldn’t mind, she thought as she tugged on a pair of black leggings and topped it with a baggy jewel-bright silk shirt. Besides, it was Sarah’s fault she was in this predicament.
She brushed out her hair, spent two minutes on her make-up and had to be content with the result. She had run out of time. She stopped in the bedroom doorway and glanced back at the mirror. No. She was more than content. And she smiled. She had promised Jack she would support him and she would. No sulking that he had twisted her arm. The frisson of excitement fluttering in her abdomen was proof enough that she hadn’t needed much persuasion. And the small tug of guilt that she was actually looking forward to hearing him play was firmly quashed.
Jack’s eyes narrowed as she rejoined him in the sitting room. ‘Well?’ she demanded. ‘Are you just going to stand there, Jack Drayton? I thought you were in a hurry.’ She threw a thick wrap around her shoulders. ‘Shall we go?’
‘Yes. I think we’d better.’
His hand was at her back, warm and possessive, as he steered her towards a long, low sports car parked against the kerb.
‘This is yours?’ she asked in frank disbelief.
‘You find it difficult to believe I own a Ferrari?’ he asked, without rancour.
‘I find it difficult to believe that you earn enough doing kiss-o-grams to even pay for the insurance.’
‘Then perhaps you should consider the possibility that I don’t always stop at kissing,’ he suggested, his face expressionless.
She frowned. ‘Not...?’ Then she coloured fiercely as she realised exactly what he was implying. ‘Oh.’
His look warned her against pursuing the subject and he opened the door for her and she lay back against the dark leather.
She cleared her throat. She couldn’t leave the subject alone. ‘How much do you …?’ She stopped realising it was a question she couldn’t possibly ask.
‘You must be awfully good at…’
‘Why don’t you try me and judge for yourself?’ he offered.
‘I thought you were in a hurry.’
‘You’re right. There are some things it’s better not to rush,’ he said, starting the car. ‘Ready?’
She nodded and held her breath, expecting him to drive off at speed. He didn’t. He held the car within the speed limit on the ring road and then had no choice as they wound through the city centre. But it was still a breathless experience. Or maybe it wasn’t the car at all. Maybe it was just sitting alongside Jack that made her feel weak. ‘It’s a beautiful car,’ she said, feeling that something was required by way of comment. ‘Don’t you ever want to just put your foot down?’
‘When I get overcome with the urge for speed, Rosie, I go to a track.’ He pulled up behind the jazz club, climbed out and opened the door for her. ‘Shall we go in?’
He settled her at a table near the front and while he went to fetch some drinks she looked around. It was a long time since she’d been there and the shabbiness of it surprised her. It had the appearance of a place about to fold and that made her sad. She turned her attention to the group on the stage, a quartet backing a girl with a husky voice who had modelled herself on Cleo Laine. Jack slid into the seat beside her and draped his arm along the back of her chair, watching the girl.
‘She’s good,’ Rose whispered.
‘She’s too young for that song. In a few years, if she sticks with it, she’ll be great.’ The number came to an end and the girl left the stage. Mike Noble appeared to introduce a guest act. It was a moment before she realised he was talking about Jack.
‘Got to go, sweetheart. See you later.’ He ran lightly up the steps and onto the stage to some polite applause. He picked up his sax and propped himself on a stool, a figure all in black, picked out by a spotlight. For a moment he stared out at the audience until the room was silent. Then he lifted the instrument to his lips and began to play.
At some point during the performance Mike slipped into the seat beside her. As the last note died away, Rose turned to him and smiled.
‘Your friend blows a mean note, Rosie,’ he said, as Jack left the stage to a thumping ovation. ‘Can you persuade him to come again? It would be nice to go out on a high note.’
‘Go out...what do you mean? Are you leaving?’
‘The bank has issued an invitation that I cannot refuse.’ He sat back in his chair. ‘I’ve been losing money for quite a while. I’ve had an offer from someone who wants to open a snooker club and I think I’d better take it before I lose everything.’
‘Hello, Mike. Can I get you drink?’ Jack interrupted.
‘I should be buying you one. I was just asking Rosie to persuade you to make another date. We might manage a decent crowd for you with a bit of advance publicity.’
‘Listen, Mike, I had enough trouble getting her to come out tonight...’ His eyes said he was joking, but there was a warning edge to his voice.
Mike looked at him and grinned. ‘I’ll make myself scarce then, but don’t think I’ll give up. Bye, Rosie. Nice to see you.’
‘Thanks, Mike,’ the words were heartfelt and Mike nodded.
‘Any time.’
Rosalind toyed with her glass. ‘You were very good.’ She had the feeling he wasn’t really interested in her views on his playing. ‘Mike was impressed. I could tell. What will you do about his offer? Even if the club’s closing soon, it could lead to other dates.’
‘Could it?’ he asked. ‘Then I’m tempted.’
‘You know what I mean.’
‘Yes, I know what you mean, but I’m doing nothing until I’ve danced with you.’ He stood up and held out his hand.
Rosalind didn’t move. ‘You can’t go on blackmailing me into doing what you want forever, Jack.’
‘Well, let’s take it one step at a time and see, shall we? Besides, it would be a shame to waste the rest of the evening.’
‘There is no evening left, Jack. I’m usually asleep in bed by this time.’
‘If you’re offering that as an alternative, I’ll pass on the dance.’ She felt the colour rise to her cheeks, in no doubt that he was serious. Yet she felt under no threat. Despite his relentless pursuit she sensed that he would never take her somewhere she didn’t want to go. The problem was that once in his arms she might very well be more than happy to go anywhere he wanted to take her. The thought was shocking.
‘You’re incorrigible,’ she said.
‘More compliments?’
She stood up and he led her to the tiny dance floor where she allowed him to take her into his arms, but the floor was too packed to dance properly. They simply swayed together like most of the other couples, to the rhythm of a sweet clarinet. She tried to keep her mind on the music, but the warm length of his body pressed against her, the feel of hard muscle beneath his thin shirt, the steady beat of his heart against her own, drew her into a warm and hectic circle of enchantment until they were the only two people left in the world.
‘Rosie?’ She raised her head from his shoulder. ‘I think I’d better take you home.’
She lifted her wrist to check the time. It was gone one o’clock, but it wasn’t the time that sent a sudden chill through her. It was the watch that Anthony had given her. Yesterday. And now she was wrapped in another man’s arms as if there was no tomorrow.
She pulled sharply away from Jack and hurried back to her seat and flung her wrap around her and grabbed her bag. It fumbled from her fingers spilling her belongings across the floor and as she bent to pick it up, Jack bent down too. ‘What’s the matter?’
‘You know!’ She began to shovel her belongings back into her bag. ‘I shouldn’t be here.’
He helped her to her feet holding onto her elbows, his laughing eyes suddenly fierce. ‘Perhaps you’d better start giving some serious thought about where exactly you do want to be. You can pay too high a price for a little security, Rosie.’
She didn’t even bother to dignify this with an answer, but tore herself from his grasp and turned on her heel, heading quickly for the exit.
He unlocked the car door without a word and she climbed in, too angry to speak. He thought she was marrying Anthony for his money, for a soft life. He couldn’t be more wrong. She had a good job, didn’t need a man to support her. It wasn’t financial security she sought.
When they arrived at her home she didn’t wait for him to open the door, but got out quickly and began to walk up the stairs to her flat. He followed. She glared at him as he took her elbow and shook him off.
‘This is it, Jack,’ she said, keeping her voice down because of the lateness of the hour, but investing her whisper with all the force she could muster. ‘I don’t want to see you again.’ He said nothing. ‘Did you hear me?’ she demanded.
‘I heard you. You don’t want to see me again.’
‘Good.’ They arrived at the door. Rose opened her bag and searched for her keys. They weren’t there. For the second time in two days she felt the urge to stamp her foot.
‘What’s the matter?’
‘I’ve lost my keys.’
‘Perhaps you dropped them in the car,’ he suggested. ‘I’ll go and see.’
‘I’ll come with you. Then there will be no need for you to come back upstairs.’
He shrugged. ‘If you like.’ But the keys weren’t in the car. ‘They must have fallen out when you dropped your bag. You’ll just have to knock up Sarah.’
‘I can’t. She’s...’ She was unwilling to say where Sarah was. He was quite capable of taking it as an invitation. ‘She’s staying at a friend’s.’
‘I can see that she wouldn’t appreciate being disturbed then.’ He laughed softly and too late Rose remembered that he had seen Sarah and Matt leave together. ‘Well, you can’t stand out here in the rain all night. I suggest you hop back in the car and I’ll take you to the club.’
She had no choice, but she climbed very unwillingly back into
the Ferrari. And it didn’t do any good. The club was in total darkness when they arrived and Jack’s hammering only brought a security guard to ask them what they were about.
Rosalind felt like crying. It was all so ridiculous. She couldn’t even fling the blame at Jack, much as she would have liked to. She had been so desperate to get away from him that she had almost run out of the place without bothering to check that she had everything. ‘Is there somewhere I can take you? Where does your mother live?’
‘Nearly thirty miles away.’
‘I’ll take you, nevertheless, if that’s what you want.’
She shook her head. ‘I’ve got an appointment first thing tomorrow morning.’ She looked in despair at her clothes. ‘I wonder what time the cleaners arrive?’
‘Loathe as I am to suggest this, what about Anthony?’ Her startled glance was sufficient. Turning up on Anthony’s doorstep in the middle of the night escorted by Jack Drayton wouldn’t do much for their relationship. Always supposing she could think of some convincing reason why they should be together. ‘No? You don’t think he’d understand? Perhaps not. Well, there’s nothing left, Rosie. You’ll just have to come home with me.’
‘I can’t do that, Jack.’
‘Can’t you?’ he mocked her. ‘Oh, well, there’s a fine cardboard box over there. You can share it with the rats.’
She shuddered. ‘There must be something else I can do.’
‘It’s two o’clock in the morning, sweetheart. I’ll let you think about it. In the meantime…’ He started the car and pulled out into the road. The streets, black and shiny with rain, were almost empty but Rosalind didn’t notice. She only knew that she was getting deeper and deeper into Jack Drayton’s nets and the more she struggled, the tighter they bound her.
Half an hour later they pulled into a small courtyard. The house looked vaguely familiar, but she saw so many houses and she could hardly keep her eyes open.
‘Up to bed with you.’ He pushed her up the stairs and into a large room with a double bed. It was clearly his room and she nervously backed away. ‘The bathroom’s through there, Rosie. I’ll see you in the morning.’ He shut the door firmly and she heard his feet clattering down the stairs.