by Anne Mather
The door to the studio had been open when he arrived, and he left it open now, starting back across the lawn towards the house. To hell with her, he thought, anger overtaking propitiation. He didn’t know why he’d ever imagined she’d be interested in how he was feeling. She’d made it clear what she really thought of him the morning after she’d practically screwed his brains out.
‘Wait!’
He had reached the patio doors when he heard her calling him. Obviously her conscience was pricking her, he thought bitterly. Or maybe she was just the tiniest bit ashamed of the way she’d behaved. Either way, she was coming after him, and despite his resentment he paused to allow her to catch up.
Almost objectively—and certainly against his better judgment—he allowed himself to study her appearance. Unlike him, she looked good, the blush of a golden tan giving colour to her bare arms and legs. She was wearing a pink cropped top, whose narrow straps gave him a glimpse of a dusky cleavage, and a short white pleated miniskirt that exposed her long slim legs.
Jack wondered if it was only the memory of the night they’d spent together that made him so aware of everything about her. Had he really forgotten how sexy she was, how passionate she could be? Or was it the fear that he might be losing her that filled him with such a sense of panic? If his heart condition didn’t finish him off, the result of Karen Johnson’s antics just might.
Not saying anything, he arched an enquiring brow in Rachel’s direction. If she had something to say, he decided it might be wiser to wait and see what it was. And, dammit, she had taken advantage of him, whatever justification she thought she’d had. All the same, he didn’t want to talk about it now.
‘What did you mean?’ Rachel asked, looping her hair back behind her ears and looking into his face with troubled eyes. ‘When you said you didn’t think an aspirin would do it?’
‘Did I say that?’ Jack could feel the heat bearing down on his shoulders, his jacket like a dead weight on his sweating frame. ‘Don’t give it another thought,’ he said, stepping gratefully into the coolness of the drawing room. He ran a slightly unsteady hand over his damp forehead. ‘I think I need a shower.’
Rachel tugged her lower lip between her teeth, not satisfied with the glibness of his answer. ‘You said you weren’t feeling well,’ she persisted. ‘Is something wrong?’
‘What could be wrong?’ Jack was glad that he was out of the blazing sun as his senses swam. God, he so much didn’t want to make a fool of himself in front of her. ‘I guess I’m just feeling under the weather, that’s all.’
Yeah, right.
‘There’s nothing wrong at the office, is there?’ Rachel wasn’t satisfied. She followed him into the drawing room, averting her eyes from the sofa where Karen had sat and looking at Jack instead. ‘I know getting that contract with Carlyle’s wasn’t easy, and if it’s something to do with the company I’d be glad to help if I can.’
‘You’re all heart.’
Jack was sardonic, but he couldn’t help it. Yeah, he was having problems, but they were not of a professional nature. Since he’d read the gynaecologist’s report that he’d found on his desk that morning he hadn’t been able to think of anything else. And as for telling Rachel about it? Dear God, he’d rather stick pins in his eyes.
‘Look, it’s nothing,’ he said now, not wanting to get into a discussion. He felt shattered, but even if he took her advice and rested for a while he doubted he’d be able to relax. Dammit, he had a mad woman stalking his every move, insisting she was having his baby. The DNA test that would prove she was lying would be done eventually, but until then she could easily go on wreaking havoc in his life. ‘I’ll see you later on.’
‘And do you have any aspirin?’
Aspirin!
Jack stifled a groan. ‘Yeah, I’ve got aspirin,’ he answered, heading across the room towards the hall doorway. ‘Anyway, I’ll probably feel better after I’ve had a shower.’
Rachel moistened her dry lips. ‘Um—I won’t be around later,’ she murmured, and Jack paused to glance back at her.
‘No?’
‘No.’ Rachel twisted the hem of her silk top between nervous fingers, inadvertently exposing the dusky hollow of her navel. ‘I’ve arranged to go out.’
‘Oh.’
Jack nodded, acknowledging he’d heard her, but his eyes were drawn to the soft curve of her stomach. Her shorts were low on her hips and he could see the gentle indentation of her waist. And although his head was swimming, he felt his body stir.
Fighting for control, he was forced to accept that since the night they’d slept together he’d found it hard to ignore her. Despite his finer feelings—anger, resentment, bitterness—he couldn’t stop thinking of how she’d felt beneath him, how soft her skin had been, how tightly she’d curled around him.
He realised that the months of their estrangement must have created a dam on his emotions. He’d been forced to stop thinking of her in that way, and slowly but surely his body had been schooled to meet the circumstances. Now that dam had been breached and he was vulnerable. All the feelings he’d suppressed were suddenly swamping him with their needs.
But it wasn’t going to happen. With a muffled, ‘Right,’ he practically stumbled out of the door. He needed to get away, to find somewhere to lick his wounds in private. If he could just get upstairs to his room without falling flat on his face.
‘I’ve arranged to have dinner with Lucy.’
As Jack was starting up the stairs, clinging desperately to the banister, Rachel came out of the drawing room and stood watching him. She must have decided he deserved an explanation, and she was obviously waiting for some response from him.
‘Lucy. Right,’ he said again, wishing she would just go back to her studio. ‘Don’t forget to give her my love.’
That achieved the purpose it had been intended for. With a muffled exclamation, Rachel turned and disappeared from view. She and Lucy Robards had spent a lot of time together in recent months, and she knew that Jack and her friend cordially despised one another. A divorcee herself, Lucy had never shown anything but contempt for him.
Outside again, Rachel was surprised to find she was feeling bruised and tearful. Dammit, she thought, she didn’t owe him any explanations, so why had she bothered to tell him where she was going and who she was going to be with? Why couldn’t she have let him stew in his own juice, let him wonder if she’d started dating again? It would serve him right after what he was putting her through.
The truth was, she’d felt sorry for him. Yes, she knew she was stupid, but that didn’t alter the way he made her feel. If he was ill, she wanted to know about it. She was still his wife, however easily he was able to forget his vows.
And what had he meant by looking at her in that way? She hadn’t been ignorant of the fact that his eyes had dropped so significantly below her waist. For a man who was reputedly feeling ‘under the weather’, he’d shown far too much interest in her body. Nor could she ignore the flood of heat and wetness she could still feel between her legs.
She stomped into her studio, feeling hot and antsy. He must have done that deliberately, she thought. He must have guessed how she’d feel when he’d let those disturbing green eyes assess her with so little respect. But it was her fault for letting him think she wanted him. He was punishing her for sleeping with her husband. And how ironic was that?
She had to remember Karen, remember she was expecting his baby. Instead of playing with the idea of repeating the offence, she should be considering what she was going to do. But, dear God, how could she even think of divorcing him when she still loved him? If only she’d been pregnant, she thought. Then their marriage might have stood a chance…
CHAPTER SIX
RACHEL MADE SURE she left the house before Jack came downstairs again.
As soon as she was sure he’d be in the shower, she locked up her studio and went back to the house to speak to Mrs Grady. She wanted to be certain the housekeeper knew that Jack would
be in for supper. Leaving him to explain the position would have given him far too much of an advantage.
Upstairs in her room, Rachel stripped off her clothes and stepped into the shower herself. The cool water felt good on her hot skin, and she felt infinitely fresher when she came out. Riffling through her wardrobe, she pulled out a chiffon-sleeved dress of dark green silk jersey. Its wraparound style accentuated her curves and left a satisfying length of bare leg exposed.
Her newly washed hair swung thickly to her shoulders, and, shunning a necklace, she threaded wide gold hoops through her ears. A matching jumble of thin gold bracelets clinked on her wrist, balancing her watch, and ankle-breaking heels completed her ensemble.
She studied her reflection in the long cheval mirror when she was ready, wondering why she’d gone to so much trouble. She was only having dinner with Lucy, for heaven’s sake. She’d even told Jack what she was doing—a situation she would have revised now, if she could.
It was just a ten-minute walk to Lucy’s house, but Rachel took her car. Although it was summer, and at present there were plenty of people about, it would probably be dark when she came home, and the cliff path could be rather scary at night.
Her friend lived in the second of a row of semidetached homes on the outskirts of Market Abbas. Rachel’s father’s company had built the houses in the days before Jack had come to work for him. At that time Fox Construction had been a comparatively small operation, tendering for house extensions and occasionally a small estate. It wasn’t until Jack had suggested expanding into the commercial market that the company had really taken off.
But she didn’t want to think of Jack’s contribution to the financial security her father had enjoyed in the latter days of his life. Better to remember what Karen had said about him only marrying her to get control of the company. She didn’t really believe it. With his talent for business, Jack would have succeeded anywhere. But was that what other people had thought when he married her? The sting of that suspicion would take a long time to go away.
Lucy was working at her computer when Rachel rang her doorbell. ‘Come in,’ she called. ‘I won’t be a minute.’ And Rachel stepped gratefully into the hall of the small house. ‘I’m just answering emails,’ Lucy added, using the mouse to send the last reply she’d written on its way. As well as writing a food column for a Plymouth newspaper, Lucy was also the agony aunt on several national magazines—a fact that Jack had always said, with some humour, he found very hard to believe.
‘Hey, you look stunning!’ Lucy exclaimed now, swinging round in her chair and regarding her friend with assessing eyes. ‘Did I forget something? I thought we were just going to have a pizza in town.’
‘We are.’ Rachel felt her colour deepen with embarrassment. ‘I—I just felt like dressing up, that’s all. Do you mind?’
‘Well, it makes my jeans and shirt look a little dowdy,’ remarked Lucy, glancing ruefully down at her outfit. ‘If I’d known we were dressing up I’d have worn something different than this.’
‘You look fine,’ said Rachel earnestly, wishing she hadn’t made such an effort with her appearance. But after that conversation with Jack she’d wanted to do something to give her back her confidence in herself.
‘If you say so.’
Lucy shrugged and got to her feet, revealing she was several inches shorter than her friend. Rachel’s shoes didn’t help, but it was too late to worry about that now. And Lucy did look attractive. Her tight-fitting jeans and fringed suede shirt were a perfect foil for her straight black bob and strongly feminine features.
‘You drove,’ she said, glancing out of the window of her office and seeing Rachel’s sleek Audi parked at the kerb. Then she grimaced. ‘Of course. You could hardly walk here in those heels.’
‘I can walk,’ said Rachel defensively, not really liking Lucy in this mood. It was as if Lucy was annoyed with her because she’d worn something flattering for a change. Usually, because Lucy was a success in so many ways, Rachel was the one who felt inferior.
‘Anyway, it will save me getting my car out of the garage,’ Lucy went on, as if Rachel hadn’t spoken. ‘I’ll just get my bag.’
It was a twenty-minute drive into Plymouth, made longer by the traffic heading into the city for the evening. Lucy said little on the journey, allowing Rachel to concentrate on her driving, and it wasn’t until they were parked near the famous Hoe that she said, ‘Where’s Jack tonight?’
‘Jack?’ Rachel repeated his name to give herself time to consider her answer. ‘He—er—he’s at home, actually. He came home early. He wasn’t feeling well, or so he said.’
Lucy blew out a breath. ‘I assume you’ve had no more word from this woman he’s been running around with?’ She frowned. ‘Karen something or other, didn’t you say?’
‘Johnson,’ said Rachel, half wishing she’d never mentioned the woman’s appearance to Lucy. But in the aftermath of Karen’s visit she’d had to talk to someone. Thankfully, she hadn’t told her friend everything—like the fact that Karen had said she was pregnant. Or that she, Rachel, had seduced her husband that same night, a circumstance Lucy would find hard to condone after she’d sworn she’d never let him near her again.
‘Yeah, Johnson,’ Lucy said now, linking arms with Rachel as they walked up the street to the restaurant. She glanced sideways at her. ‘You haven’t seen her again, have you?’ she persisted. ‘You seem awfully reticent on the subject.’
‘Of course I haven’t seen her again.’ Rachel managed to inject a note of conviction into her voice. ‘Why would I? She’s said what she came to say.’
‘Which was?’
‘You know.’ Rachel was dismissive. ‘That I should give Jack a divorce so that he can marry her.’
‘And what does Jack have to say about it?’ Lucy waited for her response, and when it wasn’t immediately forthcoming she went on, ‘You have spoken to him about it? You haven’t conveniently forgotten about it, like you tend to do with things you don’t like?’
Rachel gasped. ‘Like what?’
‘Well, like the fact that you found out about this affair six months ago but it wasn’t until this Johnson woman turned up at the house that you began to take it seriously.’
‘That’s not true!’ Rachel was indignant.
‘So why are you still together?’
That stumped her. ‘Well—because I wasn’t sure it was true.’
‘Not true?’ They had reached the restaurant, and Lucy waited until they were seated at a table in the corner before continuing, ‘He spends the night at her house, you’ve even seen the CCTV pictures of them entering the company apartment together, and you say you’re not certain. What do you need, Rachel? You just don’t want to face the consequences, that’s all.’
Thankfully, the appearance of their waiter for the evening prevented any further accusations from Lucy. In discussing what to drink, and the specials available but not listed on the menu, Rachel was able to avoid an immediate response. She just wished Lucy would take the hint and get off the subject. No matter how good a friend she was, she didn’t have the right to browbeat her like this.
They each chose lasagne, with a chilled jug of the house wine to accompany the meal. Rachel couldn’t help but notice that the waiter was especially attentive to her this evening, and it went some way to restoring the confidence Lucy’s scornful comments had destroyed.
‘I just don’t understand you,’ Lucy confessed, as they ate a green salad to start their meal. ‘Here you are: you’re bright, you’re beautiful—’
‘Gee, thanks.’
‘—and you’re financially independent,’ Lucy continued doggedly. ‘And that’s without taking your share of the business into account. You don’t need Jack Riordan, Rachel. In my opinion, you never should have married him in the first place.’
Rachel cast her a resigned look. ‘So what do I do? Divorce him?’
‘That would be the most sensible thing, yeah.’ Lucy smiled, but it wasn’t a ple
asant sight. ‘And I’d take him to the cleaners for every rotten penny he’s got.’
‘Force him to leave the company, you mean?’
‘If that’s what it takes.’
Rachel shook her head. ‘I couldn’t do that.’
‘Why not?’
‘Well, because the shareholders would never agree to it, for one thing. And for another, Jack is Fox Construction. Without his flair, his insight, the company would have been bought out long ago. My father wasn’t a businessman, Lucy. He was a tradesman. He enjoyed what he was doing, but it wasn’t until Jack came to him with his ideas that he saw how successful they could be.’
‘You don’t think it might have been easier for Jack because it wasn’t his money he was spending?’ Lucy ventured carelessly, and Rachel stiffened.
‘What are you saying? That he only married me to get his hands on Fox Construction?’ She’d heard that before—from Karen—and it pained her that Lucy should think the same.
However, her friend seemed to realise she’d gone too far, and she quickly backtracked. ‘Of course not,’ she protested, reaching across the table to squeeze Rachel’s hand. ‘Jack loved you. You know that. But, like all successful men, he got greedy. A wife’s not enough for him. He wants a mistress on the side.’
Rachel sighed. ‘As Martin did?’
Lucy’s lips tightened. ‘Since you mention it,’ she said, ‘exactly as Martin did.’ She scowled. ‘And I was fool enough to believe him when he said he wanted an amicable divorce.’ She shook her head. ‘The bastard emptied our bank accounts, Rachel, and then pleaded poverty to the authorities. God, if I’d known Debbie was pregnant I’d never have let him get away with it.’
Rachel felt a shiver of apprehension slide down her spine at her friend’s words. She’d forgotten all the details of Lucy’s separation—the lies Martin had told to get a judge to give him the right to live in the house he’d previously shared with his wife. That was why Lucy had been reduced to living in a small rented semi in Market Abbas instead of in the comfortable five-bedroom home she and Martin had bought when they got married.