Love Without Lies

by Lee Wilkinson

  Wits scattered, knowing she shouldn’t be here at all, she shook her head. ‘No, I—’

  Touching a button, he instructed the chauffeur, ‘Just drive around for a while, Michael.’

  As the limousine pulled smoothly away from the kerb, feeling rather as though she’d been hijacked, Madeleine began weakly, ‘What made you…?’

  ‘Chance my arm?’ Rafe suggested when she hesitated. ‘Sheer determination. If I’d been sure of seeing you again, I might not have rushed things. But when I made a few tactful enquiries I discovered that you wouldn’t be here Monday evening…

  ‘Which could have meant one of two things: either I was just another patient you didn’t mind if you never saw again…or else someone you could be interested in and felt, because of the clinic’s policy, you should steer clear of. I rather hoped it was the latter…’

  Trying to control the surge of excitement that ran through her, she bit her lip.

  Though his phrasing had been reasonably cautious, there was an air of confidence about him that suggested he felt fairly sure it was the latter.

  And the way she had allowed herself to be shepherded into the car without protest must have reinforced that assumption.

  ‘It opens up such possibilities…’ He smiled at her. ‘And I’m only too pleased you’re free to explore those possibilities…’

  The sexual chemistry between them was like an electrical force she could sense through every pore in her skin.

  But recalling what Eve had said about women throwing themselves at his feet, and disinclined to let him believe that she might be one of them, she tried to appear cool and unmoved.

  Judging by his face, her strategy hadn’t worked.

  In an effort to take the wind out of his sails she looked him in the eye and asked, ‘What makes you so sure I’m free?’

  Apparently unruffled, he answered, ‘Well, for one thing, you’re not wearing a ring—’

  ‘That’s nothing to go by these days.’

  ‘True. That’s why I waylaid your colleague.’

  ‘Which colleague?’

  ‘The pretty, dark-haired girl who first took my details. I happened to see her leaving the clinic and spoke to her. Eve, isn’t it? I gather she’s a good friend of yours.’

  Without a blush, he added, ‘I managed to coax quite a bit of information out of her.’

  An edge to her voice, Madeleine asked, ‘What kind of information?’

  ‘I needed to know if you were married or in a steady relationship. When I asked her, she told me you’d lost your husband and been alone for quite a while now. I couldn’t imagine a beautiful woman like you being on your own, but she seemed fairly sure there was no man in your life at the moment.’

  When Madeleine merely looked at him, he added, ‘Which means you have no commitments, no one waiting at home for you?’

  ‘No.’ As though he was willing her, she found herself unable to lie.

  ‘Then I’d like to think that having dinner with me is marginally more appealing than eating alone?’ he said quizzically.

  When she made no immediate response, he urged, ‘Please say it is, for the sake of my fragile ego.’

  She smiled in spite of herself, a smile that brought her beauty to life and set those tiny gold flecks in her eyes dancing.

  As he stared, entranced, she said a shade tartly, ‘I have the distinct feeling that your ego is robust enough,’ then, throwing caution to the winds, added, ‘But yes, it is. Marginally.’

  He laughed. ‘A woman with spirit, I see… So where would you like to go?’

  His mouth was beautiful, she thought, at once controlled and sensitive, the lower lip a little fuller than the upper. It was a mouth that tied knots in her stomach.

  Somehow she managed, ‘I really don’t mind. Anywhere you choose.’

  That was the first hurdle cleared, Rafe thought triumphantly as he instructed the chauffeur, ‘The Xanadu, please, Michael.’

  Knowing he shouldn’t touch her—yet—but desperate to do so, he took her hand and, his thumb stroking across her palm, went on softly, ‘I think you’ll agree that it’s the perfect setting for a romantic evening.’

  She shivered.

  Things were moving fast. Too fast.

  Knowing she needed to apply the brakes, she withdrew her hand and, gathering herself, stared resolutely out of the car window.

  But she was still breathing unevenly when they drove through tall ornamental gates and drew up outside the celebrated Mayfair restaurant.

  Once a private house, the Xanadu was built in the style of a Spanish hacienda, and stood in its own discreetly floodlit gardens. Mature trees and shrubs provided a pleasant backdrop to smooth green lawns, and flowering shrubs climbed the stuccoed walls.

  When the middle-aged chauffeur got out to open the door, Rafe told him, ‘Don’t bother hanging around, Michael. Get off home to the wife.’

  His look grateful, the man said, ‘Thank you, sir. Goodnight sir, madam…’

  Rafe opened the thick smoked-glass door with an easy courtesy that she soon came to know was part of his nature.

  Inside the foyer, his jacket was whisked away and they were greeted by the proprietor. ‘Good evening, Mr Lombard…madam… How nice to see you. Your usual table?’

  His usual table… Did he make a habit of bringing his women here? Madeleine wondered.

  ‘Please, Henri.’

  The maître d’ appeared to show them through a series of archways to a secluded corner table in the stylish, white-walled restaurant.

  Long windows looking onto the gardens were open wide, letting in warm evening air fragrant with the scent of roses and honeysuckle. A few bright stars were appearing, and a thin, silvery disc of moon floated in the blue sky.

  As he’d said, it was the perfect setting for a romantic evening.

  Watching her glance round, and instantly on her wavelength, he queried, ‘Yes?’

  ‘Yes,’ she agreed with a smile.

  While they sipped an aperitif she tried to concentrate on the menu, but, try as she might, she couldn’t prevent herself looking at him, and whenever he wasn’t watching her her eyes were drawn to his face.

  He wasn’t merely good-looking. With a cleft chin, a mouth that was at once ascetic and sensual, a strong nose, high cheekbones, brilliant, thickly lashed green eyes and dark, curved brows, he was intriguing, riveting.

  But it was more than his looks. Much more. There was something about the man himself. Something she couldn’t quite put a name to, but something that fulfilled a need in her. It felt right to be with him, as if she had always known him, as if they belonged together.

  While they ate an excellent meal he kept the conversation light and general, moving from topic to topic, finding out what interested her, seeking her opinion on the subjects that did.

  In spite of her awareness of him, the heated attraction that lay just beneath the surface, she found herself responding with an ease that, when she thought about it later, surprised her.

  It wasn’t until they reached the coffee stage that he deliberately moved into more dangerous territory.

  Needing to know, and recalling the levelness of her gaze even when she was flustered, he went for the direct approach. ‘Tell me about your husband.’

  Every nerve in her body tightening, she said, ‘There’s not much to tell.’

  ‘What was his name?’

  ‘Colin. Colin Formby.’

  ‘You kept your maiden name?’ he queried.

  ‘Yes. It was what my family wanted,’ she said quietly, taking a sip of her drink.

  He raised an eyebrow quizzically. ‘You were an only child?’

  ‘Yes,’ Madeleine answered.

  Rafe paused, leaning back in his chair. ‘What field was your husband in?’

  ‘Physiotherapy.’

  ‘When did the pair of you meet?’

  ‘At university.’ Madeleine lowered her gaze, focusing on anything but Rafe’s probing gaze.

  �
�You were students together?’

  ‘No. I was in my final year. Colin was a tutor.’ Rafe was intrigued. ‘So he was older than you?’

  ‘Eighteen years.’

  ‘A big gap.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said shortly. Madeleine had always thought that the age gap, big as it was, wouldn’t have mattered if she had truly loved him.

  Rafe could sense her growing discomfort, but having got this far, he decided to press on. ‘How long were the two of you married?’

  ‘Six months.’

  ‘Not long.’

  ‘No,’ Madeleine almost whispered.

  Rafe paused, knowing his questions were difficult for her.

  ‘How did he die?’

  ‘He was killed in an explosion.’

  Quelling the urge to ask any further questions, Rafe commented, ‘Tough.’

  Madeleine raised her eyes to his. ‘Yes, it was.’

  There was sadness there and some other emotion Rafe couldn’t put a name to. But it wasn’t the utter desolation, the inconsolable grief, of someone who had lost all they held dear. Of that he was sure.

  He breathed an inward sigh of relief. The absence of a man in her life had made him fear that she was still in love with her dead husband, but the vibes he was picking up convinced him he was wrong.

  Which must make his chances of succeeding, a great deal easier, he thought.

  Refilling her coffee-cup, he changed the subject smoothly.

  ‘What does Madeleine Knight do in her spare time? Are you a secret television addict?’

  Relaxing again, she laughed and shook her head. ‘No, I much prefer a book.’

  ‘Ah, a woman after my own heart! Have you read Matthew Colt’s Funny Business…?’

  ‘Oh, yes… I loved the part where Joe tries to steal his ex-wife’s poodle…’

  For a little while they talked about the book, laughing over the bits that had amused them the most, before Madeleine remarked, ‘I read somewhere that it’s going to be turned into a play.’

  ‘So I understand. Should be worth seeing… Do you like the theatre?’

  ‘Love it.’

  ‘Have you had a chance to see the new West End play everyone’s talking about?’

  ‘Beloved Impresario?’ She shook her head and, unwilling to admit she couldn’t really afford to go to the theatre these days, said, ‘I imagine tickets are like gold dust.’

  ‘I’m sure I could get hold of a couple, if you’d like to see it?’ he asked casually.

  Her heart starting to hammer against her ribs, she bit back the urge to accept. She was being foolish in the extreme just having dinner with him. No doubt all he wanted was a brief fling.

  But while many women might have jumped at the chance, that kind of thing wasn’t her style.

  Plus, it could cost her her job.

  Her expression tight, controlled, she refused with formal politeness. ‘I don’t think so, thank you.’

  He was having none of it. Green eyes looked into aquamarine. ‘You mean you don’t want to see it? Or you don’t want to see it with me?’

  Feeling as though she’d been set down in the middle of a minefield, she found herself wishing the evening were over. Wishing she could escape.

  And he knew it.

  Lifting her chin, she answered as steadily as possible, ‘I don’t have much spare time, so I don’t want to commit myself.’

  He had known from the start that getting anywhere with this woman wouldn’t be easy. Now he realized that it was going to be a great deal harder than he had anticipated.

  But he had wanted her on sight, wanted her with a passionate hunger that had surprised and shaken him. And no matter what it took, he vowed, he intended to have her.

  But it would be a mistake to come on too strong.

  With a graceful movement of his hand he conceded defeat and, his expression bland, steered the conversation into less perilous channels.

  Feeling relieved, she followed his lead.

  Watching her, he noted that relief and wondered why she was so wary, so reluctant to get involved.

  Still, the night was young. There was time to change her mood.

  His charming nature soon set her at her ease once more, and by the time they finally rose to leave she could have stayed there all night.

  And he knew that too.

  Watching her face, soft and dreamy now, he felt a strange tenderness mingling with satisfaction as he escorted her outside.

  Moonlit air caressed her skin like velvet, and the stars were so close she felt she only had to stretch out a hand to pluck one from the sky.

  The taxi Rafe had ordered was waiting for them, and his hand a warm weight in the middle of her spine, he ushered her towards it.

  When they were settled in the back, he said, ‘I understand from Miss Collins that you live in Knightsbridge. Where exactly?’

  She gave him the address of her flat and, sliding open the glass panel, he relayed it to the driver.

  As they reached the gates and joined the late-night stream of traffic, he looked deep into her eyes. His look was so intent and searching it made her heart beat faster and her breath grow short.

  While she stared back at him as though mesmerised, he took her heart-shaped face between his palms and, bending his dark head, touched his mouth to hers.

  His kiss, light and fleeting though it was, seemed to melt every bone in her body and filled her with an almost uncontrollable longing.

  Drawing back, he said quizzically, ‘There now, that’s what you’ve been fearing all night, but it didn’t hurt a bit, did it?’ When she just looked at him with big, dazed eyes, he said, ‘So shall I do it again?’

  Somehow she found her voice and lied jerkily, ‘I’d rather you didn’t.’

  ‘OK,’ he said, and kissed her again. This time there was nothing light or fleeting about it.

  When, without conscious volition, her lips parted beneath the light pressure of his, he deepened the kiss until her head was reeling and her very soul had lost its way.

  He could feel her trembling and, sensing that she was his for the taking, he suggested softly, ‘My apartment is quite close to here. Will you come up for a nightcap?’

  Somehow she found her voice and objected huskily, ‘It’s late. I should get to bed.’

  ‘Exactly what I had in mind…’ he murmured. She didn’t dare look at him.

  ‘With so much chemistry between us…’ He let the sentence tail off.

  But then he didn’t need to say any more. Sex with him would be good, she knew that instinctively. Better than good. Mind-blowing.

  Heat running through her, she said, ‘I’ve never gone in for one-night stands,’ and was uncomfortably aware that she sounded stuffy and old-fashioned.

  Raising a dark brow, he asked, ‘Who said anything about a one-night stand? I have the distinct feeling that having you in my arms for a million and one nights wouldn’t be enough.’

  Struggling to close her mind to the seduction in his voice and words, she looked down at her lap. For once in her life she was sorely tempted to do what Eve was always telling her to do, and live a little.

  But the guilt that had been her albatross now became her saviour, reminding her that she couldn’t afford—either financially or emotionally—to get involved with this man.

  Taking a deep, steadying breath, she said, ‘I don’t want to go to bed with you. I’d like to go home, please.’

  CHAPTER TWO

  MADELINE braced herself, expecting him to be angry, to try and persuade her to change her mind, but, showing no signs of temper or disappointment, Rafe said evenly, ‘Very well. If that’s what you want.’

  Relieved that he’d accepted her decision, that she’d won so easily, she made an effort to relax her taut muscles.

  The relief turned out to be premature, as he returned to the attack.

  ‘Have lunch with me tomorrow?’ Before she could answer, he swept on, ‘According to the forecast, it’s going to be another love
ly day. We could go for a drive, and picnic in an idyllic spot I know.’

  ‘I’m afraid I can’t.’

  ‘You’re not working tomorrow, are you?’ he questioned.

  ‘No. But I’ve a lot to do.’ In a rush, she added, ‘Saturday mornings I clean the flat, and then I do some shopping.’

  She always bought a selection of small gifts for her mother, before catching the two-thirty bus to the nursing home.

  He raised dark brows. ‘Surely housework and shopping can wait? While this good weather holds, having a drive in the country and a picnic would be a lot more fun.’

  Thinking of what had happened to her mother and Colin, and feeling the black taste of guilt in her mouth, she said sharply, ‘There’s a lot more to life than just having fun.’

  Then, seeing the shadow that had fallen across his face, and regretting lashing out, she touched his sleeve. ‘I’m sorry. That wasn’t very gracious of me.’

  ‘No.’ He covered her hand with his. ‘But you don’t have to be gracious with me. I’d much prefer honesty…’

  She was surprised. None of the men she’d known had particularly valued honesty.

  ‘Tell me why the idea of having a little fun upset you so much,’ he pursued.

  It wasn’t something she could tell him.

  It wasn’t something she could bring herself to tell anyone. Not even Eve and Noel.

  Pulling her hand free, she said jerkily, ‘It isn’t the idea of having fun… It’s just that…’ The words tailed off.

  ‘You really can’t stand the sight of me?’

  She should have said yes, and be done with it. Instead, she said, ‘No, it’s nothing like that.’

  ‘So what is it?’

  ‘I—I don’t have time for commitments…’

  ‘I wasn’t asking you to sign your life over to me,’ he said mildly, ‘merely to spend a few fleeting hours in my company. If you’re busy Saturday morning, let’s make it the afternoon.’

  ‘I’m not free Saturday afternoon. I have to be out by two-thirty.’

  ‘What time will you be home?’

  Naturally truthful, she admitted, ‘About six.’

  ‘Then have dinner with me.’

  Before she could think of an excuse, they were turning into Danetree Court, an old-fashioned block in a tree-lined square.