by Liz Fielding
He tore off his jacket and tossed it on the bed before crossing to the window and flinging it open, desperate for air. It wasn’t much help. The day was hot and the faint breeze was woefully inadequate to cool the fire Nyssa had generated deep within him.
He had to tell her. He had to tell her everything now, while she could still tell him to go to hell. He’d have to take that risk, because there was no way he was making love to her with a lie on his lips. And he couldn’t reject her again. She would never understand, never believe in a million years that he was only protecting her from making a big mistake. And maybe she’d be right. Maybe he was just thinking of himself.
But as he clung to the sill, fighting the urge to follow her into the bathroom and make that a cold shower for two, he saw something in the street below that cooled him off faster, and more effectively, than a bucket of ice water.
He didn’t stop to change, just grabbed his jacket, and the camera, and headed for the door, hammering on the bathroom door as he passed. ‘Nyssa, stay where you are. Don’t answer the door to anyone. No room service. Nothing.’
‘What?’ She flung open the bathroom door, her hair sticking damply about her face, still in that mind-blowing underwear. ‘What’s up? Where are you going?’ For a moment he was tempted to simply bundle her up and carry her off himself, as he’d threatened. Keep her somewhere safe where no one would ever find them. ‘Matt?’
‘I’ve just spotted one of those thugs from the other night.’
‘What? Where?’
‘Down in the street.’ She made a move towards the window, but he caught her hands, holding her against him. ‘Stay here.’
‘While you go after him on your own? Are you crazy?’ She turned to reach for her trousers. ‘I’m coming with you.’
‘No.’ And, when she would have protested, he covered her mouth briefly with his own. Then repeated, ‘No. I just want to see where he goes. Who he sees. But I can’t do that unless I know you’re safe. I want you to stay here, with the door locked, until I get back. Promise?’ She gave a little shrug that might have meant anything, but when he continued to wait she finally nodded. ‘Thank you.’
‘But what about the planning meeting? I made some objections and I want to know what happens.’
‘Read about it in the evening newspaper, the same as everyone else.’
Matt paused within the shadows of the hotel entrance to scan the far side of the road, mentally calculating the distance the man would have travelled while he was arguing with Nyssa.
For a moment he thought he’d taken too long to explain, that he’d lost his quarry. Then, glancing back, he saw him. He’d stopped a few yards shy of the hotel and was deep in conversation with a woman in a smart black suit, hair neatly coiled at her nape, a briefcase at her side. She half turned to gesture towards the hotel, and as the sun lit up her face he raised the camera to capture the image in the hopes that he could identify her. With her face isolated and enlarged in the viewfinder, he realised that it wasn’t going to be a problem.
With a sinking heart he discovered he wasn’t anywhere near as surprised as he should have been to see that it was Sky.
Nyssa paced anxiously back and forth across the bedroom floor, stopping only to peer out of the window every few seconds, calling herself every kind of fool since Matt left.
It had been madness to let him go after the man on his own. Suppose he was recognised? Kidnapping was a serious crime; anyone who’d even consider it had to be capable of almost anything. Her stomach lurched sickeningly at the thought of him lying hurt somewhere, bleeding, needing help… She glanced at the phone. Gil would know what to do…
The sudden rap at the door made her jump like a nervous kitten. This was it. This was someone coming to take her to the hospital… Someone coming to tell her that he was hurt. Worse—
‘Nyssa? Are you there?’
She let out a sigh of relief and ran to the door, flinging it open. ‘Sky.’ Then, ‘Good grief.’
‘You’re not the only one who can dress to confuse. I’ve just been to the planning meeting and, dressed like this, no one gave me a second glance.’ She dropped her briefcase and flung herself into a chair. ‘Your disguise must have been very good,’ she said dryly. ‘I didn’t spot you there. Or maybe you had something more important to do?’
Nyssa brushed aside Sky’s snide remarks. ‘What happened?’
‘Well, it’s good news. The objections you raised have been noted and the Highways Department have got involved. Parker’s been told to go back to the drawing board and resubmit a new design which includes two hundred parking spaces.’ She grinned. ‘Now we’ve got time to rally the troops and make our presence really felt. I thought a demo on Saturday morning—’
‘For heaven’s sake, Sky, act your age. We don’t need your hooligans causing havoc in the town centre, upsetting everyone. What we need is the establishment on our side. Even if the planning application for redevelopment is thrown out, we still have to save the cinema. It will take a lot of money.’ In truth, she was a lot less worried about the cinema at that moment than what Matt was doing, whether he was safe, and she crossed to the window again, checked her watch for the hundredth time. He’d been gone more than an hour. He had to be in trouble or he’d have rung her…
She turned, and saw Sky staring at her.
‘What on earth is the matter with you?’
‘Sorry,’ Nyssa said, with a gesture intended to brush away the worry. ‘I didn’t mean to snap.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Actually, I’ve been busy, too. I got into the cinema this morning and it’s good news on that front as well,’ she said, with determined briskness. ‘Parker’s done us a big favour by cleaning the place up. He’s made it a lot easier to convince English Heritage that the place needs listing. I’ve got photographs…’ She looked around to show her the snaps and realised the camera had gone. ‘Bother. Matt must have taken the camera.’
‘Matt?’ Sky enquired softly. ‘Matt Crosby?’
Nyssa flushed. ‘Well, yes.’
‘But I warned you…’ Sky’s gaze suddenly focused on the two bags side by side on the bed. ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake! You are such a little idiot! I told you he didn’t check out.’
‘I know, but—’
‘I suppose he was with you when you opened my e-mail, whispering sweet nothings in your shell-like ear?’
‘I’m sorry?’ Nyssa was used to hiding her feelings, and she hid them now beneath a puzzled smile.
‘Oh, don’t play the innocent with me. I can see what he’s done to you. It’s right there in your eyes. With all the men in the world to choose from…’ Sky threw up her hands in despair. ‘I suppose it was only a matter of time. You must have been a walking time bomb, and that man could light anyone’s fuse—’
‘Your point being?’ Nyssa asked coldly.
‘What have you told him?’
‘I told him he hadn’t passed your credibility check.’
‘And I’ve no doubt he had some very convincing story to explain that?’
Nyssa, who’d so far been too annoyed by her aide’s unpleasant reaction to consider why she might be so mad, stilled. Matt’s story had been short on detail, but it didn’t matter because she trusted him. Believed that he cared. And that was enough.
‘He convinced me,’ she said.
‘Your innocence does you credit.’ Maybe she was ultra-sensitive on the subject, but to Nyssa her lieutenant’s sympathetic smile didn’t seem to entirely match her words. ‘However misplaced.’
‘I think I’m the best judge of that.’
‘Do you? Really? Well, let me tell you something. We’ve got a new recruit, someone on the inside, who’s fallen in love with the Gaumont and, like us, would do anything to save it—’
‘Not anything,’ she responded sharply. Nyssa suspected that, for all her gentle flower child image, Sky thrived on confrontation, and was impatient at her meetings with those whom she considered the enemy. ‘We raise the banner and m
ake the case—then it’s for the people of Delvering to choose. They’ve got to want it or the Gaumont has no future.’ Sky made no comment, simply shrugged. ‘So, who is this new recruit of yours? What’s he told you?’
‘He’s the security guard at the site. And he’s told me that your precious Matt Crosby is Charles Parker’s man.’
CHAPTER TEN
‘MATT works for Charles Parker?’ Nyssa didn’t need Sky’s look of barely concealed triumph to tell her that it was so. It all fell into place so neatly. For heaven’s sake her first thought when she had met Matt had been that he was all part of the act. ‘How does the security guard know for sure?’
‘Crosby turned up at the site this morning with some bimbo in tow. Apparently he’s Parker’s “security consultant”.’ She was making little quote marks with her fingers when it apparently occurred to her who the ‘bimbo’ must have been. ‘Oh—’
Nyssa gestured impatiently. ‘Go on.’
‘The security staff always double-check with the office before they let anyone on the site. When our man rang in about Crosby, Parker himself came on the line, wanting to speak to him.’
‘But I was watching him from…’ From across the road. Where he’d insisted she stay. ‘Matt didn’t speak to anyone,’ she continued. It was somehow vital that Sky shouldn’t see that she doubted him.
‘No. He said he’d call Parker later. When he’d completed his report. Apparently Parker took it like a lamb.’
‘How did your man know it was Matt Crosby?’ she asked, her throat dry as she clung to the hope that it had all been a mistake…
‘He gave him his card. Not that it said much. Just his name and a telephone number. He gave the same one to me when he came to the meeting last week. I’ve got it here somewhere,’ she said, opening the briefcase she carried with her.
‘It doesn’t matter.’ Nyssa brushed away the card Sky offered her. She didn’t need any more proof that it had all been an act to get inside their organisation, keep Parker up to date on every move they made.
The tenderness, the perfect kisses that had made her feel loved, desired, a complete woman—none of them were true. She should be grateful that he’d been enough of a gentleman to leave it at that. Considering the way she’d thrown herself at him, he’d behaved like a perfect gentleman. A true knight errant.
She still wished he hadn’t…
‘Nyssa?’ Sky was looking at her as if she was a fool, and she felt like one. She was stupid and gullible and a fool—
‘Nyssa. It’s me.’ She flinched at the sound of a key in the door. Flinched at the sound of his voice calling out to reassure her. ‘Oh. Hello, Sky. I didn’t expect to see you here.’
‘No, I’m sure you didn’t.’
She was the last person in the world Matt had wanted to see with Nyssa. It was going to be difficult, telling her that her trusted friend had been behind the kidnap attempt. She wouldn’t want to believe it. Why would she do such a thing?
‘Sky went to the planning meeting,’ Nyssa said. ‘It’s good news. The development has been sent back for major design changes.’ He heard the flatness in her voice, saw the stiff set of her shoulders.
‘How long will that take?’
‘Three months, with any luck.’ She turned to look him full in the face. ‘Do you want to phone Charles Parker and tell him? Help yourself to the phone. I presume this room is on expenses?’
So. She knew. Sky could have only found out from one source. He should have listened harder to the enthusiastic young security guard who’d fallen in love with the cinema. ‘Bad news travels fast. I’m sure he already knows.’
‘You don’t deny you work for him?’
He glanced at Sky. She raised her eyebrows slightly, as if inviting him to wriggle off her hook. ‘No. I don’t deny it. He employed me to find out something, anything bad about you. Information he could use to destroy your Little Miss Perfect crusading reputation.’ Nyssa gave a little gasp, as if she’d still been hoping that it might not be true. He ignored her, keeping his gaze fixed on the other woman in the room as he crossed the room to the telephone, picked up the receiver, punched in a number. ‘After the attempt at kidnap, I gave him his money back.’
‘A likely story.’
He ignored Sky’s interjection, but wondered if Nyssa had noticed her lack of surprise at the word ‘kidnap’.
‘Parker swore he didn’t organise that riot and offered to give me back my cheque if I could find out who was trying to blacken his name.’
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake,’ Sky began loudly, ‘you don’t expect us to believe that!’
He no longer expected anything, except pain.
‘Why not? It’s at least as believable as the answer.’ He tossed the camera to Nyssa. ‘Check the pictures. One of them is the guy who jumped you. You’ll recognise the person he’s talking to. I’ve spent the last hour…’ he paused while he sought for an appropriate word ‘…chatting to him.’ It was Sky’s turn to gasp. ‘Parker?’ he said as the phone was finally answered. ‘It’s Crosby. I’ve got the information you wanted—’ Nyssa was pale, but Sky had turned paler, shrinking back into her chair. ‘There were five people involved. I have all their names and addresses but I don’t think you need worry yourself about it. They won’t be causing you any more trouble.’ He continued to stare at Sky and, turning the mouthpiece to his shoulder, he said, ‘Will they, Sky?’
For a moment there was dead silence in the hotel room. Then Sky shook her head.
‘Sky?’ Nyssa’s voice was oddly calm. ‘What’s been going on?’
Matt dropped the receiver onto the cradle and crossed to pick up his bag. ‘Nyssa trusted you, Sky. Thought you were her friend. Her ally. It never occurred to her that you might be so jealous that you’d try and get her out of the way so that you could reclaim centre stage.’
‘It wasn’t—’
‘Or was it that you found her methods a bit tame these days? Meetings with government officials just don’t give you the same buzz as chaining yourself to a bulldozer, do they? And maybe she doesn’t even bother to take you to those meetings.’ He knew Nyssa was staring at him, but he didn’t turn to meet her eyes. ‘Did you think you could kill two birds with one stone? Get Nyssa out of the way and let Parker take the blame?’ He walked to door. His job was done. Nyssa was safe enough. ‘Cheer up. Trust is a precious thing, and I guess you’ve lost that, but you’ve been friends a long time. I’ll bet even now, if you were to ask her to forgive you…’
Sky’s sob rent the stillness of the room, and without a moment’s hesitation Nyssa went to her, put her arms around her, held her.
‘It’s all right,’ she murmured. ‘I understand. I’m sorry, I should have seen…’ He waited for a moment, but she didn’t look up.
A friend might be forgiven. A lover, never.
And Matt very quietly let himself out.
Before he left the hotel he paid for their rooms, but he wouldn’t be submitting an expense claim. But then he hadn’t actually phoned Parker from the hotel to report his findings; he’d dialled his own number and had a one-way conversation with his answering machine.
Besides, with the planning consent on hold at the Gaumont site, the man wouldn’t be able to afford his fees.
The flat seemed smaller, shabbier without Nyssa. He tossed his jacket on the sofa and a small packet slid from the inside pocket and hit the floor. He picked it up. Inside was a computer disk with a note that said simply, ‘You might find this useful.’ There was no signature, but it wasn’t necessary. There could only be one source for such information—one of the men at James Lambert’s party had been seized by an attack of conscience.
He booted up his laptop and fed in the disk. A week ago, the information stored on it would have had him singing the ‘Hallelujah Chorus’. Now—
Now, instead of using it to break his enemies, wreak his revenge, he would use it to help the girl he loved.
Nyssa had kept her composure in front of Sky. Comfort
ed her, reassured her and finally, thankfully, sent her on her way. Now she was on her own she could no longer hold back the sting of tears. She sniffed, scrabbled in her bag for a handkerchief. It was Matt’s. He’d used it to dry her eyes, wipe away the tears of joy that had spilled over when he kissed her.
Joy. She flung the handkerchief in the nearest bin.
She’d felt for a few brief hours as if her whole life had slipped into place. That all the waiting had been for this moment.
Just to think of his play-acting, the pretence, was enough to dry out her eyes. He wasn’t worth her tears.
How could she have been so stupid? Her very first thought after the attack had been that he was part of the plot. But then he’d held her, couched her against him, and she’d felt safe. For the first time in as long as she could remember she hadn’t been alone.
She’d thought she’d been alone when her father had been killed. When her mother had remarried. When Gil had married Kitty, leaving her with her own intense, girlish passion unrequited.
On the scale of loneliness, she now knew that had been nothing.
Loving a man who, as he held you in his arms, breathed life into your frozen heart and kissed the tears from your cheeks, a man who, even as he did those things, was betraying you—that was loneliness.
She was better off lavishing her time, her fortune, her passion on saving neglected and unloved buildings. She could cherish them, see them brought back to life. A building couldn’t betray her.
But then a building couldn’t hold her in the middle of the night when she was lonely. It couldn’t make her weep. Or heat her up so that her body sang with life and love.
Had it all been fake?
Matt could have destroyed Sky; instead he’d counselled forgiveness, asking nothing for himself.