by Helen Brooks
Well, he could laugh at her all he wanted but she did have a headache and she was blowed if she was going to sit there and endure another minute of his company. Her back stiff, hackles rising, she gave him an arctic smile and left the room as Jennie leaned forward and lightly touched his arm, bringing his attention back to her. ‘You must come to dinner again tomorrow if you’re free, Zac. You could come every night while you’re here, as far as we’re concerned. Isn’t that right, Susan?’
She didn’t wait to hear his reply, shutting the door on their tiny dining room-cum-study and standing in the hall for a moment as indignation swamped her. If that man was coming here every night, then she’d be eating out for the next three weeks. And this was her home as much as Jennie’s—her friend should have consulted her before making such a sweeping statement.
Rachel was feeling ashamed of herself even before she reached the bedroom and her penance was to lie tossing and turning and straining her ears. She heard the others leave the dining room and go into the sitting room then some music filtered through, along with the low buzz of conversation and laughter. Giggly, we’re-hanging-on-your-every-word laughter from Jennie and Susan, and a deep, rumbly male laugh now and again that made every nerve and sinew in her body stretch.
It was the longest two hours of her life before she heard the front door open and close, and then a few minutes later Jennie tiptoed into their room. A little while later, Jennie’s steady regular breathing told Rachel her friend was fast asleep; likewise Susan, as the muted snores through the wall proclaimed. Not for the first time she wondered how someone as ethereal and beautifully delicate as Susan could produce such a sound.
She must have drifted off to sleep eventually because she awoke at six o’clock, an hour before the alarm, after disturbing dreams she couldn’t remember but which left her with an uneasy, unsettled feeling in the pit of her stomach. It was still dark when she made her way to the bathroom, deciding to have a long hot bath to soak away the stresses of the day before. She filled the tub and added plenty of her favourite bath oil. If ever there was a morning to pamper herself, this was it. She didn’t know what she was going to face at work today, she told herself, and that was the reason—the only reason—for the butterflies in her stomach and the feeling that her world was out of kilter.
By seven o’clock she was dressed and made up and sitting at the table laid for three with a full coffee pot and a stacked plate of waffles, Jennie’s favourite breakfast. Her atonement for the night before. Not that the others would have minded her leaving, they’d probably hardly noticed, the way they’d been focusing on Zac, but this made her feel better.
‘Ooh, waffles, lovely.’ Jennie padded into the dining room and plonked herself down at the table, reaching for the pot of honey and liberally dousing her first waffle. ‘Why the treat? We normally only do this at weekends. Weekdays are toast and instant coffee. Not that I’m complaining, of course, far from it.’
‘I couldn’t sleep,’ Rachel said airily, smiling at Susan who had just appeared and whose response to the waffles was a carbon copy of Jennie’s. ‘So I thought I’d spoil us all.’
Both her friends were in their pyjamas and still-tousled haired without a scrap of make-up, and both looked gorgeous. Rachel sighed unconsciously.
‘What?’ Susan glanced at her. ‘What’s the matter?’
She thought about prevaricating and then said honestly, ‘I’d give my eye teeth to look like you two in the morning. Have either of you ever had blotchy morning skin or sticky-out hair or a spot that wasn’t there the night before?’
‘Loads of times.’ Susan grinned at her and reached for a waffle. ‘Sometimes I look like the wicked witch of the west.’
Liar, liar, pants on fire.
‘Anyway, it was you Zac was asking about last night,’ Susan continued casually, ‘in spite of Jennie doing her best to persuade him they were kissing cousins.’
Rachel’s heart stopped and then kick-started. She had to wait for a moment before she could control her voice enough to say, ‘Asking what exactly?’ in a faintly bored tone.
‘The normal things. These waffles are gorgeous, by the way.’
The normal things? What on earth were the normal things? ‘Like…?’ Rachel prompted carefully.
‘If there was a boyfriend around,’ Jennie put in. ‘Of course, he could just have been being friendly. We’d sort of filled him in about us.’
‘Yes, I think it took Jennie all of a few seconds to make the point I was seeing Henry and she was fancy-free,’ Susan said a touch acidly. ‘Along with how she’s just dying to see that new play at the Grecian theatre.’
Jennie grinned good-naturedly. ‘A girl has to do what a girl has to do, and you must admit he’s some sort of hunk. I don’t remember him being so drop-dead gorgeous when we were children.’
‘Probably because the last time you saw him you were a kid with pigtails and braces and more interested in horses than boys.’ Susan was petrified of horses and had been frankly incredulous when Jennie had told them one day she had ridden all the time as a child and had had her own pony called Primrose.
‘True.’ Jennie started on her third waffle. ‘But I’m very interested now and I haven’t given up on Zac yet. I mean, as family it’s my duty to show him around while he’s here and look after him.’ She tried an innocent smile that didn’t fool anyone.
Susan spluttered half her waffle onto her plate. ‘And we all know how you want to look after him,’ she said lewdly, rolling her eyes. ‘And cooking dinner for him is the tip of the iceberg.’
Jennie didn’t deny it. ‘I bet he’s great in bed,’ she said dreamily. ‘Sexy, experienced but considerate, you know?’
Rachel found she couldn’t sit and listen any longer. Abruptly, she said as she stood up, ‘I had a disaster at work yesterday and I need to be in early. I’m not at all sure I’ll still have a job soon, to be honest.’
‘Oh, no.’ Both girls were instantly all concern and comfort, and as she detailed what had happened they said the right things in the right places and were suitably scathing about the sales team. It helped how she was feeling. A bit.
As she left them, Rachel said offhandedly, ‘Is Zac having dinner with us again tonight?’ and hoped the jitters that had assailed her all morning since waking weren’t evident in her voice.
‘Nope, he’s busy.’ Jennie’s voice brightened as she added, ‘But I’ve got his number and I’ll try later for tomorrow. I might suggest treating him to dinner at Alfredo’s and then taking him to a nightspot. What do you think? Somewhere where the dance floor is small and cosy so we can get in the mood.’
‘I take it you mean a nightspot followed by his hotel room?’ Susan winked at Rachel, who had paused in the doorway.
‘Absolutely,’ Jennie agreed cheerfully. ‘Or just his hotel room.’
‘Jennie, you’re such an out-and-out tart.’
‘I know. Tarts have all the fun.’
Rachel left the other two amiably chaffing each other but she wasn’t smiling as she fetched her coat and handbag from her room. Jennie had never made any secret of the fact she slept with all her boyfriends and enjoyed sex, and although Susan was a little more choosy, she’d had a few partners too.
Here again she was the odd one out. She stared at her reflection in the long mirror on the bedroom wall. Jennie and Susan had thought it hilarious in their university days when she had said she was waiting for Mr Right before sleeping with a boy, but back then she had imagined he would come along before too long. And the truth of it was she had never met anyone who had made her pulse flutter and tempted her before Giles, so it hadn’t been too difficult to hang onto the dream. She’d had lots of boyfriends before him and had enjoyed kissing and cuddling and a bit of petting, but whenever they’d pressed for more she had known she would regret it the next morning. It was just the way she was made. She’d long ago come to terms with the fact that she was an oddity in her group of friends.
Rachel frowned at t
he brown-haired girl in the mirror. She wanted it to be special with the man she fell in love with, a forever thing, something that meant more than words could explain, but after Giles she was wondering if love as she saw it even existed. And she didn’t want to die an old maid.
What had kept her from sleeping with Giles? He’d certainly pestered her enough in the last couple of months before he had proposed, and she had imagined herself in love with him, hadn’t she? Her frown deepened. Hadn’t she?
Yes, she had thought she loved him but something hadn’t been quite…right. Even then some sixth sense must have been telling her he wasn’t what he seemed, that he had been projecting an image he’d thought she’d wanted him to be.
She shut her eyes tightly, biting on her lip. Jennie was right and she was wrong. She should have slept with every Tom, Dick and Harry and had fun; sex was just a pleasant pastime between a man and a woman and didn’t have to be an emotional forever thing. It didn’t have to lead to marriage and babies.
Her eyes opened. But it would need to for her. She simply couldn’t imagine opening her life and her body to a man and then cheerfully waving goodbye to him whenever the relationship ended. Jennie could. She couldn’t. End of story. She didn’t want to go through life alone but if she had to, she would. Loads of women concentrated on their career these days and chose autonomy and had rich and fulfilling lives. She just hadn’t imagined that was the way her life would go when she had been younger.
She took a deep breath. She could hear Jennie singing a pop song in the bathroom and smiled wryly to herself. The world did indeed ‘rain down men’ on Jennie; no sooner had her friend disposed of one man than another took his place. She envied her. Oh, how she envied her. No heart-searching, no agonising, no emotional baggage. Jennie ate when she was hungry, drank when she was thirsty and slept with a man when she wanted sex. And Jennie never felt that she was a failure and had missed the boat in a hundred and one ways.
At the end of the day Rachel still had a job, so she supposed she could count it a success. She’d gone for lunch with a group of girls from the office but although she had joined in the conversation and acted naturally, part of her—annoyingly—had kept repeating a post-mortem of the night before.
If she analysed it, she couldn’t quite understand why Zac Lawson had got under her skin the way he had. It hadn’t been so much what he’d said or done as the way he’d said and done it, she told herself. A certain inflexion, a tone of voice, a look, and perfectly mundane words could have a whole different meaning. Even simple words like ‘Thank you’ could change according to the way someone spoke or the expression on their face—it could be grateful or sarcastic or wry or a whole host of things. But however much she tried to wriggle out of it, she had to admit she’d been uncharacteristically belligerent from the second she’d set eyes on Jennie’s cousin. And she didn’t like herself for it.
She sighed as she pulled on her coat at the end of the day, after switching off her computer and tidying her desk. If she saw Zac again she’d be politely friendly, she determined, for Jennie’s sake. She didn’t like him—in fact, she’d never met a man she liked less—but that couldn’t be helped and Jennie needn’t know. And it wasn’t as if he would be around for long anyway; she could force herself to be civil to the poor man for the short time he was in the country if their paths crossed.
It was raining again when she walked down the steps of the office building and her umbrella was safely propped up in the hallstand at the flat. In the couple of years since she’d bought it, she’d only used it a handful of times, she reflected ruefully.
She had reached the pavement before she saw him, leaning nonchalantly against the wall of the building next door.
‘No umbrella again?’ The velvet voice with its faintest of Canadian undertones mocked her wide-eyed surprise. As he reached her, he sheltered her under his own black monster of an umbrella. ‘Do you actually like getting wet through?’
He’d slipped a casual arm round her waist as he’d drawn her out of the rain and she was aware of feeling very feminine against his broad-shouldered bulk. Then the dumbness brought about by shock faded and she found her voice. Carefully pulling back so there was a couple of inches between them, she said tightly, ‘What are you doing here?’
‘Isn’t it obvious? Rescuing a damsel in distress.’
‘I’m not in distress.’
‘You would be if you walked home in this lot.’
The rain was coming down faster now, thudding on top of the umbrella in great icy drops that annoyingly backed up his statement. Rachel swallowed hard. He smelt divine. Whatever his aftershave was, it was worth every penny. ‘How do you know where I work?’
Stupid question, she thought in the next millisecond.
His dry voice backed up the thought when he murmured, ‘Jennie. I rang her and asked for the address and told her I wanted to take you out to dinner.’
‘But—’ She stopped abruptly, warning herself to be careful.
‘What?’ His eyes under their thick black lashes surveyed her.
‘Jennie said you’d told her last night you were busy this evening.’ And she could just imagine Jennie’s reaction to the news when Zac had phoned. She stared into the strong face, her gaze taking in a slight cleft in his chin she hadn’t noticed the evening before. She shivered. But not with cold.
He shrugged. ‘My plans changed. It happens.’
‘I—I can’t have dinner with you.’ Don’t stutter and stammer, for goodness’ sake, she told herself disgustedly.
‘Why not?’ His tone was more interested than offended.
He was nothing if not direct. But there was no way she was going to be intimidated. She indicated her briefcase. ‘I have work to do tonight and it can’t wait.’
‘That’s OK, you can do it later.’ He smiled, a slow, curving smile that made her stomach roll over and took the arrogance out of his declaration. ‘You would eat at some time tonight, why not with me? And you’ll work better on a full stomach. I do.’
Hotly aware that several of her co-workers were giving them interested glances as they passed, she muttered, ‘Jennie’s free tonight, ask her. I know she’d love to go to dinner with you.’
‘I don’t want to have dinner with Jennie, Rachel. I want to have dinner with you,’ he said softly. ‘And don’t look at me as though I’m the Marquis de Sade. I’m suggesting dinner, that’s all, and I promise you’ll be safely delivered home later.’
Her mouth fell open and then snapped shut. How dared he? She was so taken aback by his effrontery she didn’t know what to say for a moment. Suggesting she was some nervous teenager scared at the thought of dinner with a man! ‘If we are talking straight here, you know full well why I won’t have dinner with you,’ she said tartly. ‘It must have been obvious Jennie likes you, surely? I wouldn’t do anything to upset or offend her.’
‘And I like Jennie. She’s my cousin, there are childhood memories and all that sentimental stuff. But I have no wish to date her, Rachel, and I won’t pretend otherwise. I made that clear to Jennie today and she was quite philosophical about it, I promise. Her heart remains intact.’
He was laughing at her again—she knew it even if the tawny eyes were serious. She wished she had the will to turn round and walk away without another word, to cut him dead, but curiously she couldn’t do it. Somehow she managed to make her voice cool and polite as she said, ‘Nevertheless, I don’t think dinner is a good idea.’
Part of her was still numb with disbelief that he wanted to have dinner with her, especially when Jennie had made it clear how she felt. And then a thought occurred. Maybe that was exactly why he had asked her? If he didn’t fancy Jennie then the best way to make it clear was to take another woman out.
‘I think dinner’s a wonderful idea,’ he said smoothly, ‘but let’s discuss it in comfort, shall we?’
Before she knew where she was he had bundled her into the taxi that had been waiting at the kerb. She hadn’t realised it
was Zac’s and as he slid in beside her she was tempted to exit the other side, but something in the hard male face told her he would simply haul her back in. She wouldn’t put anything past him, she told herself bitterly before she said, ‘I’d like to go to the flat, please.’ She glared at him defiantly.
‘And you shall. Later.’
Rachel hated the mocking lift to his voice. She listened as he gave the name of a famous restaurant a few blocks away to the driver. It cost an arm and a leg to eat there.
‘This could be termed kidnapping, you know,’ she said stiffly.
His irritating eyebrows—irritating because they had a way of arching up in a manner guaranteed to provoke—rose. ‘Surely not,’ he murmured lazily, turning to survey her with one arm along the back of the seat behind her head. He was wearing a heavy black overcoat, which intensified his dark maleness, and Rachel breathed out carefully. ‘I’m a stranger to your city and I’m asking you to spend a couple of hours with me over dinner, that’s all. A good meal, a nice wine and a little conversation.’
Now he was making her feel like a worm. Deliberately, no doubt.
‘If I had asked Jennie, she would have assumed the evening would end in bed. It would have sent all the wrong signals and maybe caused a problem. I didn’t want that. But I did want some company. Is that so terrible?’
She stared at him and his eyebrows did it again. Knowing she’d been beaten by an expert, she gave it one last try. ‘And what about the problem my having dinner with you might cause between Jennie and myself?’
He smiled a little grimly. ‘Jennie knows you don’t like me very much. I doubt she’ll lose any sleep tonight.’
She could feel the colour flooding her cheeks but couldn’t do anything about it. She wasn’t going to deny it, though. After a moment, she said carefully, ‘If you think that’s how I feel, why would you want to spend some time with me?’