Roberta Leigh - No Time For Marriage

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Roberta Leigh - No Time For Marriage Page 7

by Roberta Leigh


  He twirled the liquid in his glass. It effervesced and bubbles rose to the surface and broke, as illusions frequently did.

  'You're right,' he murmured. 'I've know it for a long while but it isn't easy to change. You see, Morgan Construction is not only my work, it's my hobby and I love it.'

  'Then don't whinge about having no friends.' The retort came out before she could stop it, and she went scarlet. 'I'm sorry. I'd no right——— ' Her voice was cut off by his laughter.

  'Don't apologise for saying the obvious,' he said when he could speak. 'I've been sitting here full of self-pity and I deserved your reprimand. You're right, my lovely. If I want to change my life, I must change myself.'

  'Not too much,' she said quickly. 'You're nice as you are.'

  'Watch out!'

  'What for?'

  'You might begin to like me!'

  She already did, and was delighted he didn't know. Deciding she had better bring the subject back to safe ground, she said: 'I hate having to break up this conversation, but I'm due for an early night.'

  'Pity. I was hoping we could go on somewhere.'

  'I'd fall asleep on you.'

  'Is that a promise?'

  She felt her face burn and was furious that after all these years she wasn't more sophisticated. 'I've had a busy day, Kane, I'm sorry.'

  'Not to worry. There's always another night! But you did promise to let me take you sightseeing,' he added as they left the dining room. 'When are you free?'

  Embarrassed, she bit her lip. 'Tomorrow, actually. That's why I want an early night. I'd like to set off before it gets too hot.'

  'A good idea. Is eight o'clock too early for you?'

  'No, but… Please, I wasn't fishing for an invitation.'

  'I know that. But it will be my pleasure to take you. Unless Bonlam calls me, I'm totally free.'

  'If you find you can't make it…'

  'I doubt anything will crop up. And if it does, it might not do Bonlam any harm to find me not waiting for his call!'

  Kane paused by the elevator, and she tensed, wondering if he was going to suggest seeing her to her room, and not certain what she would say if he did. But even as she considered it, he raised an arm in a laconic wave and turned away.

  Was he going to find someone else to share the rest of the evening with him? she asked herself as she prepared for bed. He'd find no shortage of willing girls! He might lack close, personal friends, but he would never lack for women. Like Pete, he had charisma. And like Pete, she reminded herself, he was not for her.

  Before dawn, Sharon was awake and sitting on the balcony, sipping fresh papaya juice and watching the mist rise above the golden spires. The drone of traffic, so noticeable during the day, was now only a muted hum, and she could hear the shrill, unfamiliar call of a parakeet, its colourful plumage hidden by the thick glossy leaves of a palm tree.

  Kane had not said where they were going, but she assumed it would be the tourist haunts of temples and markets, and after a cool shower she donned a sleeveless white cotton dress, and flat sandals. She kept her hair away from her face with a pearl and tortoiseshell band, and wore the minimum make-up of lip gloss and barrier cream. Thank goodness her eyebrows and lashes were dark. As a child, her friends had teased her about it, for they had looked incongruous with her flaxen hair. But age had turned the flax to burnished gold, and her thick, chestnut brown lashes and curving brows had finally come into their own.

  Five minutes before the appointed hour she was waiting in the foyer, dangling a pair of sunglasses from her hand and hoping Kane wouldn't think her too eager.

  'There you are!'

  She swung round to see him beside her. In jeans and white T-shirt and sandals, he looked carefree as a student, and her heart did a silly flip flop.

  'I've brought a scarf,' she said, aware of his intent gaze.

  'That'll be too hot. We'll get you a parasol in the market.'

  As they stepped outside, a limousine drew up before them and he motioned her to get in. No ordinary taxi for Kane!

  'You're looking very beautiful today,' he said as they moved off. 'White suits you.'

  'It suits most blondes.'

  'Especially real ones!'

  She was amused. 'How can you tell I am? My eyebrows and lashes are dark.'

  'But your skin isn't. And genuine blonde hair has a special look to it. Like sun on a cornfield.'

  She laughed outright. 'Now you're making me feel rustic.'

  'Not you. You're too imperial looking.

  'Really? I don't see myself that way.'

  'Well, you are. It's a combination of height and expression. For a tall girl you're singularly graceful.'

  Their car swung wide to avoid a wobbling bicycle, and Sharon fell against Kane.

  He caught her firmly and held her for an instant. 'Flinging yourself at me, eh?'

  'Aren't you used to it?' she joked, to hide her embarrassment.

  'Yes,' he said briefly. 'And it gets boring as hell. But most of the girls aren't flinging themselves at me— merely at what I represent to them. A fabulous meal ticket.'

  'You underestimate yourself, Kane.'

  'Thanks.'

  She settled back again, this time holding on to the side of the seat, as their driver, with the agility of a porpoise, skimmed past people, rickshaws, bicycles and cars. Every now and then they were caught in a traffic jam, and his horn joined the orchestra of motor hooters. It was a relief when they finally drew to a stop and Kane ushered her out.

  They were in front of the Grand Palace, a city within a city on the western side of Bangkok, home of Siamese kings in ancient times. Sharon was enthralled by the slender spires and multi-domed pavilions with the familiar snake-shaped decorations on their rooftops, which rose behind a high, white-washed wall that seemed to go on for ever.

  They walked through a gate flanked by two stone Chinese lions, towards Wat Phra Keo, Temple of the Emerald Buddha. The scene inside the courtyard took her breath away: enchanting gilded fauns, part beast, part human, stood beside demon sentinels twenty-feet tall, holding gigantic swords and wearing crested helmets, while around them was a vast menagerie of stone elephants, cows, bronze lions, painted monkeys, gilded serpents. The morning sun blazed down on die scene, exaggerating the brilliant colours and the motionless air was alive with the soothing tinkle of bells.

  Taking off their shoes, they entered the Wat. High above them, on a golden throne, sat the Emerald Buddha; not emerald at all, but green jasper. Groups of worshippers kneeled reverently at its feet, while others placed flowers at the altar or wandered around to gaze at the murals lining the walls, which depicted Lord Buddha's earthly life. And pervading all was the smell of burning incense.

  'If you want to go near the Buddha, you have to go on all fours,' Kane whispered, and they both crouched low, allowing the murmur of prayer to surround them.

  After several moments, as if by common accord, they simultaneously rose and returned to the courtyard, then ambled through the Palace grounds before crossing the river to see the royal barges, with their dragon prows and gilded figureheads standing high and dry in wooden sheds..

  'I'd love to ride in one of them,' Sharon remarked.

  'They're only used on ceremonial occasions,' Kane told her. 'Tassy once went in one when an African President was here on a visit.'

  Sharon's sense of elation suddenly plummeted as she envisaged the bejewelled Tassy, moving slowly down the river in a royal barge, graciously acknowledging the crowds.

  'Where to now?' Kane asked, unaware of her thoughts. 'Fancy a stroll back through the Pramane Ground?'

  She nodded, and they made their way towards the huge open space in the centre of the city. It was packed with locals and tourists alike, for this was a famous area for kite flying, one of the national pastimes. High above them, in the pale blue sky, flew dozens of star and diamond-shaped kites, many of them in fantastic designs in variegated colours.

  'They're having a kite-fighting contest
today,' Kane explained. 'That's why I wanted you to see it. Teams of men are flying those heavy ones—they're called chulas, and are supposedly male. The smaller kites are called pakpaos, and are female, and only one person flies it. The idea is for the female pakpao to rise and "flirt" with the chula, and try to bring it down, while the chula counter-attacks and tries to ground the female kite!'

  Sharon laughed. 'The battle of the sexes—Thai style! But it's a bit unfair, don't you think?' she asked, as they wended their way through groups of picnickers. 'The chulas are much bigger.'

  'Even so, the female kite often wins,' Kane said. 'It's lighter and easier to manipulate. Look—see what I mean? That little purple-and-scarlet one's just grounded that massive brown one.'

  'Aren't you glad you're not a kite?' Sharon teased, glancing up at him. The breeze had ruffled his hair and he looked very young striding along with his hands in his pockets.

  'I'm too high a flyer to be caught and grounded,' he grinned back, and she noticed the small gap between his two front teeth, which gave him an endearing little-boy look.

  'One day someone might wind in your string!' she warned.

  'One day I may be ready for it!'

  Sharon ignored his answer, yet felt she had to say something. 'Did you enjoy yourself last night?'

  'Last night? But I had dinner with you.'

  'I… er… I thought you went out afterwards.'

  For an instant he looked blank. 'Oh, I took a walk along the river. Very romantic in the moonlight. I'm sorry you weren't with me.'

  So was she, she admitted silently, knowing nothing would induce her to say it aloud, and she gave her attention to the numerous stalls lining the edge of the park. Here one could buy anything from live chickens and ducks, to shoes, mousetraps, jeans and dresses, ceremonial swords, and even Siamese cats—though there weren't as many around as she had expected!

  'Mustn't forget your parasol,' Kane explained, seeing Sharon shade her face with her hand, and led her to a stall covered with dozens, in every imaginable colour. 'This is you exactly,' he commented, picking up a gold one decorated with bright blue flowers. 'Matches your hair and your eyes!' His own crinkled. 'It'll even do for the monsoon. The paper is oiled to keep out the rain.'

  He paid for it and opened it for her. As she took it from him, their fingers touched and she felt a tremor of desire. But his next remark brought her to earth again.

  'We'll have to cut today a bit short, I'm afraid. I've a conference at four with Mr Bonlam, and I have to make a few calls to London first.'

  'I thought you said you weren't going to make yourself available to him today?'

  'I changed my mind. Or rather Mark made me change it. Anyway, maybe we can meet after dinner? I know I'll be free by then. How about making it the American bar at ten?'

  'Fine,' she said gaily. She had expected to spend the entire day with Kane, and wondered if his excuse was genuine or if he had invented it to get away. 'I'm tired anyway,' she lied, 'and I'll have a rest and then write home.'

  'But you will let me see you later?'

  'Do you really want to?' she asked bluntly.

  'I rarely say what I don't mean, Sharon. When you know me better, you'll realise it.'

  Would she know him better? It was a question that nagged at her for the rest of the day and, despite what he had said, she did not know the answer, and was in two minds whether to accept his invitation.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  At eight that evening she took her usual table in the dining room, where she was joined by Mr Chittiwera, who was on night duty.

  'Had a good day?' he asked.

  'Lovely, thanks. I went sightseeing this morning.'

  'You know you can always go on one of our tours?'

  'I—er—I went with Mr Morgan,' she answered briefly, tensing for Mr Chittiwera's comment. But beyond a faint look of surprise, he made none.

  'Miss Bonlam was here this morning, asking for him,' he said unexpectedly.

  'Does that mean there's more news about the highway contract?' Mr Chittiwera was always a good source of gossip.

  'No. Though I'm sure Miss Bonlam knows more than she admits. I hope Mr Morgan realises it.'

  'I'd be surprised if he didn't,' Sharon said lightly. 'I bet he knows the score—in every way.'

  Reluctant to continue discussing Kane, she unobtrusively changed the subject. Her hesitancy about meeting him in the bar had increased, and after dinner she went for a walk in the garden. Because of what had happened with Pete, her emotions were still too raw for her to court another rebuff, and with all the will in the world she could not imagine any future with a man as dynamic as Kane, who inhabited a world so different from her own. Once he left the Avonmore their paths would never cross. On the other hand, if she bore this in mind and resolved to steer clear of any deep involvement with him, maybe she could enjoy a light-hearted flirtation?

  With this in mind, she went into the American bar and found him already there. He had discarded his casual attire for an impeccably cut dark silk suit— probably for dinner with Mr Bonlam—and his hair was carefully smoothed down, though an errant lock threatened to fall over his forehead. He really had no right to be so devastating!

  'I missed you,' he said seriously, holding out a chair for her. 'I thought you weren't coming.'

  No doubt he had expected to find her waiting for him! She gave him a bright smile.

  I was in the garden and forgot the time. How did your conference go?'

  'Hard to tell. A lot of promises but all in the air— not on paper! I had a good dinner though. Mrs Bonlam's in Paris, and Tassy was hostess.'

  'Does she live with her parents?'

  'Sure. This is the Far East, you know. Well- brought-up young women don't do their own thing— at least not openly! The Bonlams have a beautiful home north of the city, and a seaside villa at Pattaya. Now what'll you drink? You aren't going to stick with coffee I hope?'

  'A glass of wine, then.'

  He murmured something to the hovering waiter, and a few minutes later they were sipping champagne from tall, slim glasses, the dark green bottle in the ice bucket proclaiming it a Krug '73.

  'Fabulous,' Sharon said appreciatively. 'But very extravagant.'

  'What's money for?' He shrugged. 'Wouldn't you spend it if you had it?'

  'Some of it,' she conceded.

  'On clothes and jewellery?'

  'A few clothes, yes, but I don't fancy being weighed down by diamonds!'

  'They aren't your stone anyway.' His gaze narrowed on her. 'Sapphires and emeralds are far more you.'

  'I'll remember that when I make my first million! Tell me what your extravagances are, Kane?'

  'Let me get one thing clear first. I believe that if one wants something and can afford it, it isn't an extravagance to buy it. Personally, I have a good wardrobe, which is a business necessity anyway.'

  'No cigars or sports cars?'

  'I don't smoke, nor am I into cars. To me, they're a necessity. But I do have a jet and a helicopter,' he added, and as she giggled, he realised the humour of what he had said, and laughed. 'They belong to the business, though, so they don't qualify as a personal extravagance. As I said, my lifestyle's modest and I plough my own profits back into the company. I aim to double our assets in the next two years.'

  'For the challenge of it, or because you want to leave your children a fortune?'

  'I don't believe in too much inherited wealth. Everyone should work for their money, and so will any children of mine.'

  'I didn't expect you to say that.'

  His eyebrows rose, two silky, dark arcs. 'You mean you've given some thought to me?'

  Her colour rose, but her voice remained cool. 'Of course. Good hoteliers should be able to assess their, guests.'

  'But on your own admission you wrongly assessed meV

  'On the personal level only. I still think I can anticipate what you'd require of a hotel.'

  'Tell me,' he said silkily.

  She looke
d him straight in the eye. 'First-class accommodation, peace and quiet to work, and very discreet staff.'

  'I'm not certain what you mean by that last remark,' he teased. 'You think I hold orgies?'

  'That's not my concern.'

  'Pity. I was hoping———- ' He was interrupted by a waiter coming over to say there was a call for him from England.

  'I'll take it in my room.' He rose. 'Sorry about this, Sharon. I'll be quick as I can.'

  It was half an hour before he was back, his face flushed, his eyes sparkling.

  'I was right to order champagne,' he said. 'A large contract which I thought had fallen through, has just been confirmed. We're to start work right away.'

  'In England?'

  'Wales, actually. I'm flying home tomorrow.'

  To Sharon's relief, Kane turned to signal the waiter for the bill, and did not see her face. The knowledge that he was leaving had hit her with a force she had not anticipated, and it was difficult to hide her feelings. Yet she had to make the effort.

  'Does that mean you're giving up on the Thai contract?'

  'Lord, no! But Mark's more than capable of controlling the situation here. Anyway, I've little choice. A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush, and I can't wait here for ever.'

  'So you're delegating responsibility at last!' she said, forcing a smile.

  'This is an exception!'

  'And you won't be coming back?'

  Kane stared at her as if trying to probe her thoughts. 'Only to sign the contract—if it ever gets to that stage. Otherwise, no.' His eyes were still on her, and a smile slowly curved the corners of his mouth.

  'Don't tell me you'll miss me?'

  'A little. You're an amusing man.' Smoothing her skirt, she rose. 'Well, have a good journey, Kane.'

  'Why are you going to bed so early?'

  The question surprised her. 'You just paid the bill and I assumed you had a lot to da'

  'You assumed wrong. I'm just too restless to sit still. I thought we'd have a stroll in the garden. Come on, darling, keep me company.'

  She knew the endearment was casually uttered and didn't mean a thing to him, yet it made her foolish heart beat faster as they left the bar and went outside.

 

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