Bittersweet Love

by Cathy Williams

  No such luck. It took her a second or two before she recognised Eric’s voice, then she remembered that she had given him her telephone number, had agreed that they mustn’t lose touch. She rubbed herself dry, wandering around the bedroom with the receiver tucked behind one ear, awkwardly getting dressed in a pair of jeans and a thin cotton top with buttons down the front.

  In her left ear, Eric chatted to her enthusiastically until she gently interrupted to tell him that she was going out and would have to say goodbye. She knew that he was going to arrange to see her; after all, hadn’t she given him every encouragement despite her ‘hands off warning? Even so, when he asked her to dinner later on in the week, she felt herself hesitate slightly.

  Was it wise? Could she trust him? What if he wanted involvement, even though he had emphatically stated that it was the last thing on his mind?

  Then she thought of Kane, the chiselled beauty of his features, the trail of women who flocked behind him, and on the spur of the moment she agreed with Eric that yes, dinner and the theatre would be wonderful.

  ‘I’m afraid it’ll have to be an early start,’ he said. ‘Can I meet you at your workplace? Say around six?’

  It’ll do me good, she thought, catching a taxi to Kane’s flat in St John’s Wood. She wasn’t about to fall into the same old rut of all work and no play, promotion or no promotion. And Kane already knew of Eric’s presence in her life. She would not have to explain anything further to him.

  It was raining steadily outside and she let her thoughts drift as the taxi wound its way along Finchley Road, taking ages because the traffic was appalling. Wouldn’t it be nice to live in the country? she thought. No traffic, no pollution, just wide open spaces. She had grown up in the country and although it was years since she had last lived there she still hankered for the peace and quiet.

  Whenever she visited her sister in her delightful little house in Tamworth-in-Arden in the Midlands, she felt the same yen to pack in everything, Kane Marshall included, and do something really useful like become self-sufficient somewhere terribly rural.

  Of course she wouldn’t.

  ‘You’d collapse from sheer boredom after a week,’ her sister always told her, whenever her thoughts became a little too fanciful. ‘London’s in your blood now. You’ll probably end up having to wean yourself out of it. Richmond first, then maybe Windsor, then the vegetable plot in the wilderness.’

  But then vegetable plots in the middle of nowhere didn’t include Kane, did they? Dammit, she thought, don’t think like that! You’re in the process of trying to exorcise him, or have you forgotten? Thinking along those lines isn’t going to speed it up, is it?

  She had to cover her head with her handbag when the taxi set her down outside Kane’s flat. The steady drum of rain had become more of a downpour and she arrived on his doorstep soaking wet. O’Leary opened the door for her and she shouted by way of apology for removing her shoes in the hall.

  ‘It’ s pouring outside! Don’t want to bring my mud into the lounge!’

  O’Leary took her jacket and said, shaking his head, ‘Raining outside, is it?’

  Obviously not wearing his hearing aid tonight, Natalie thought, her lips twitching. Most people would be mystified as to why Kane kept him on, but it didn’t puzzle Natalie at all. Kane could be surprisingly indulgent in some areas and this was one of them. O’Leary had been with his family for years and when his parents retired to the South of France he had inherited the old man without question.

  ‘Master Kane’s in the lounge,’ O’Leary was telling her, preceding her through the hall. ‘Work, work, work—don’t you young people ever know when to stop?’

  Natalie knew better than to answer. Answering O’Leary without his hearing aid was an exercise in torture, so she clucked a bit and glanced around her. It really was a magnificent flat. It never ceased to impress her. The carpets were deep and in a soft, minty green colour, the walls, split by a dado rail in the middle, gave back the hues of green, but were mixed with creams and peaches as well, and were scattered with paintings, most of them impressionistic and all of them originals. Strange to think that someone as bold and self-assertive—in fact downright persuasive—as Kane Marshall could actually live in surroundings as restful as these.

  O’Leary showed her into the lounge, yelling at Kane that the meal would be ready in half an hour sharp and could he please be prompt because there was a detective show on television that he wanted to watch.

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake,’ Kane muttered, when O’Leary had departed, ‘why on earth do I keep on that old duffer?’ He turned towards the drinks cabinet and poured himself a gin and tonic for himself and a vodka and orange for her.

  ‘Because it would break your heart to see him go.’ Natalie accepted her drink, even though she would have preferred something non-alcoholic, and sipped from it tentatively.

  ‘I must be mad,’ he grumbled under his breath. ‘I should have sent him packing off to the South of France with my parents.’

  The files had been dumped on the marble coffee-table in front of the fireplace, and Natalie sauntered across to them, picking one up and rifling through it.

  The sooner they got down to business, the sooner she would be on her way home. She was about to tactfully lever the conversation around to one of the accounts when she heard a silky voice from the doorway and looked up to see Anna standing there, barefoot, her blonde hair loose and trailing down her back in a mass of tendrils. The other woman was staring at her with open malice. ‘Now I see why you cancelled our dinner date this evening,’ she said with a freezing smile, stepping into the lounge and moving gracefully over to the sofa. She slipped into a pair of flat gold ballet shoes and turned towards Kane. ‘Or maybe I don’t.’ A flick of a glance in Natalie’s direction. ‘If you’ve decided to supplant me with her, then your taste has certainly gone downhill.’

  ‘This is work, Anna. Not that I have to justify cancelling a dinner date to you. So get your claws back in and wait for the taxi in silence like a good little girl.’ Kane looked at Anna with a mixture of boredom and amusement.

  ‘It’s so passé to sleep with your secretary!’ There was a hint of tears in her voice and Natalie checked the vigour of her retort back.

  Kane glanced across at her, amused, and Natalie glared back with impotent fury. ‘I am not sleeping with Mr Marshall,’ she said tightly. ‘I’m here to work, and in fact if it would ease things over I don’t mind going right back home. Not one little bit.’

  She bent to retrieve her handbag and Kane snapped, ‘Stay put. Anna is the one who will be leaving.’

  ‘I was looking forward to some time together,’ Anna said in a smaller voice, and Natalie almost felt sorry for the other woman.

  Kane shrugged. ‘Work first, all else later.’

  Anna bit her lower lip and threw Natalie a venomous look, then she said to Kane with a trembling smile, ‘Darling, I forgot my bag upstairs. In your bedroom. Would you mind fetching it for me, please?’

  He clicked his tongue impatiently, but left the room, and as soon as he was out Anna turned to Natalie. The trembling lip had gone, as had the broken, tearful voice.

  ‘I might have guessed,’ she said. ‘You. Little Miss Background goes to grooming school and then thinks that she can steal my man. Well, you’re in for a shock if that’s what you’re up to.’

  CHAPTER THREE

  NATALIE stared at the other woman, appalled.

  ‘Up to?’ she repeated faintly.

  Anna walked towards her and Natalie took a step backwards, shamefacedly admitting to herself that an out-and-out fight was hardly on the cards, but not liking the expression on the other woman’s face at all.

  ‘Don’t pretend that you don’t know what I mean,’ Anna spat, glancing backwards at the door to make sure that Kane had not put in a stealthy and unexpected appearance. This, Natalie knew instinctively, was precisely the sort of scene that would infuriate him. Two women, fighting like fisherwomen in the middle of h
is cool, elegant lounge. Or rather one woman fighting, the other gaping like a bemused goldfish.

  ‘You’re way off target.’ Natalie gathered her wits together and made an effort to take control of the situation. ‘I have no intention of taking your man, as you put it. Frankly, you’re quite welcome to your man.’ She grinned to herself. Kane would hate being referred to as Anna’s man. As anyone’s man, for that matter. Expressions like that had a proprietorial ring that he would not have approved of one little bit.

  Ownership wasn’t his style at all. He preferred to be totally free to come and go as he pleased, with whomever he pleased.

  ‘I don’t believe you.’

  Natalie shrugged nonchalantly.

  ‘Funny sort of coincidence,’ Anna continued maliciously, ‘this new you, who suddenly happens to find herself in Kane’s apartment, for “work”, isn’t it? Ha. Do you think I was born yesterday?’

  ‘Look,’ Natalie said patiently, ‘I am here to work.’ She made a sweeping gesture towards the stack of files on the coffee-table. ‘What do you think they are?’ A new line in ornaments? she wanted to ask.

  ‘Good grief. A bunch of stupid files. Well, you would need some kind of excuse for coming on to Kane, I suppose. And a few files are as good as any.’

  Natalie’s patience was beginning to evaporate. ‘I am not interested in Kane Marshall,’ she said angrily, ‘and this conversation is ridiculous.’

  ‘Not interested in Kane? Ha!’ Anna’s eyes narrowed on her. ‘You’ve always been interested in him. Even when you were a podgy little thing hiding behind those great big spectacles of yours. So who are you trying to kid?’

  There was a sharp silence, then Natalie turned away, concealing her trembling hands by picking up one of the files and studying it closely, then returning it to the coffee-table.

  Had Anna meant that or had it been just a stab in the dark? If it had been just a stab in the dark, then it’ s accuracy was amazing. If, on the other hand, she had spoken from observation, then the consequences were not worth thinking about, because, Natalie thought, if Anna, flitting in and out of the office occasionally, had noticed her foolish love, then was Kane aware of it as well?

  She wanted the ground to open up and swallow her up, or a sudden freak cyclone to whip her away to another planet. She said coolly enough, ‘You have no idea what you’re talking about. Your imagination’s running riot because you’re jealous, for no reason whatsoever, and I don’t have to stay here and listen to you.’ Where precisely she could retreat to was anyone’s guess. She certainly had no intention of giving Anna the satisfaction of watching her run away, wounded. That would have been tantamount to admitting that there was something in what the other woman had said, for a start.

  They heard the doorbell ring, then Kane’s voice ad-dressing the taxi driver, and Anna turned to face her quickly.

  ‘I’m just warning you,’ she bit out, ‘keep your hands off him. I can’t stop you watching, but he’s mine.’

  ‘Does he see it that way as well?’

  Anna’s face went bright red, then white. For a second, Natalie thought that that fight which she had nervously dismissed earlier on as being a ludicrous over-reaction to the situation might materialise after all, but it didn’t.

  ‘You think you’re so clever,’ she muttered, ‘but if you make the mistake of trying to get your hands on Kane, then we’ll see just who the clever one is.’

  Kane appeared at the door, his eyes flicking expressionlessly between the two women, but already Anna was smiling at him and Natalie herself had something plastered across her face which she sincerely hoped resembled a relaxed grin as well.

  ‘So nice to have had that little chat with you.’ Anna oozed from her stronghold next to Kane.

  ‘Wasn’t it?’ Natalie agreed, with as much control as she could muster, then she watched as Anna pulled Kane’s head towards her and kissed him, long and hard and without any inhibitions whatsoever.

  Natalie felt the sting of tears behind her eyes, foolish, foolish tears, but not a flicker of emotion crossed her face. What does she hope to achieve by that? she asked herself angrily. Does she think that I’m going to collapse in a jealous, writhing heap on the floor? Or maybe, and much more likely, she’s just trying to let me know who owns who.

  O’Leary appeared from behind them and shouted in exasperation, ‘Taxi’s here! Time to break all this up!’

  Natalie just glimpsed Anna’s look of irritation as she turned away and couldn’t prevent a smile from crossing her face. Good old O’Leary, never one to be subtle. He practically hustled her out of the house, grumbling under his breath, turning around to yell to Kane that supper would be served in five minutes.

  Kane shook his head ruefully at Natalie and strolled into the room, his hands thrust into his trouser pockets, his hair still slightly rumpled from where Anna’s fingers had been coiled in it. Natalie viewed him with distaste.

  ‘If I had known that I was intruding on something private, I would not have come here,’ she said coolly, walking towards the dining-room with him, but making sure that there was a good distance between them.

  ‘Intruding on something private? You make it sound as though you had caught me in bed with her.’ He laughed under his breath, obviously delighted at the expression of stiffness on her face, and Natalie wanted to scream in frustration.

  ‘I got the distinct impression that I would have if I had turned up a few minutes later,’ she muttered. ‘Or does she normally wander around the flat with her shoes off?’ God, she thought with an inward groan, I sound like a jealous wife. The last thing in the world I want to do is to let him think that I actually give a damn what he does in his private life, yet here I am, only a hair’s breadth away from sounding shrewish and possessive.

  She glanced around the dining-room, and made a bright remark about the décor, asking him whether he had had it changed recently, even though she knew that he hadn’t.

  ‘As a matter of fact,’ he commented casually, ignoring her attempt to change the conversation, ‘she does tend to take her shoes off when she’s here. I suppose it has something to do with the ridiculous height of those things that she sticks on her feet. At least I don’t have to suffer the irritation of watching you hobble around the office in five-inch heels because you think, for some obscure reason, they look glamorous. You may have changed some things, but I’m pleased to see that others have remained the same.’

  They sat at the table, opposite each other, and O’Leary brought them in their starters of avocado with vinaigrette dressing. Home-made vinaigrette dressing. He was, surprisingly, an excellent cook. She dug into her avocado and made light, non-threatening conversation with him, discussing what was playing at the theatres in London, what new films were out, food.

  ‘I really was surprised to see you in that restaurant the other evening,’ he commented suddenly. He had finished his starter and she could feel his green eyes fixed on her downbent head, surveying her. ‘Do you go there often?’

  ‘First time,’ Natalie answered briefly. ‘It’s only just recently opened,’ she added, when he made no comment.

  ‘So it has,’ he agreed. ‘It was recommended to me by the Maison Française. It’s their sister restaurant.’

  ‘Is it?’ she said politely.

  ‘What surprised me even more, though, was that you would invite a third party on your dinner date out.’

  She looked up to meet his eyes, which were amused and curious. He had always got a kick out of quizzing her on her personal life, knowing that it irritated her when he did it. She had a feeling that trying to imagine her with her hair down, dancing till dawn, had appealed to his sense of humour. Probably because it would have been so vastly different from how she appeared to him when she was at work.

  Now something had shifted slightly. The image would not have been so very different from what he saw during working hours, and having caught her in a restaurant had clearly whetted his appetite to find out more about her private
life. He was playing games with her and she didn’t see why she should respond. She ignored him and meticulously concentrated on finishing her starter.

  ‘Delicious,’ she said.

  ‘Delicious,’ he agreed, with a mocking edge in his voice.

  ‘You’re very lucky, having O’Leary to cook for you. Most single men either end up eating out all of the time or else living off take-away food.’

  ‘By most single men, I take it to mean that you’re talking about the riveting Eric?’

  There was something insolent lurking under the politeness and it sparked an angry reaction in her. He was so conceited! Eric might not set the world on fire, but he was safe. There was a lot to be said for safety.

  O’Leary came in to clear away their dishes, and then busied himself with the main course, a simple affair of lamb steaks with mustard sauce and new potatoes. And, Natalie was relieved to note, his temporary invasion into her private life was dropped. He began discussing work, and she immediately relaxed. This was familiar territory and she asked a string of questions about her new role, quizzing him on the accounts she would be handling. She already knew a great deal about them anyway, and Kane methodically filled her in on things which were not necessarily in the file. He knew all the directors of the companies personally, and he made her giggle with his stories about them.

  This, she thought suddenly, was the essence of his charm, this extraordinary ability to make a woman feel as though she was at the centre of his universe, even when she meant nothing more to him than an insignificant working companion.

  Poor Anna. No wonder she was so desperate to hang on to him. Couldn’t she see for herself that, however witty and sexy and clever he might be, he was not about to be tamed? Presumably he would get married one day, but only when it suited him, and probably to someone who could bring with her more significant assets than a good body and an undemanding intellect.