What was the use of so much self-torture? She had no choice but to go downstairs, to drink coffee, to eat breakfast, and the sooner she did so the sooner the ordeal would be over... She gave a gesture of defiance as she touched her mouth with a little more lipstick, tested out a wan, unconvincing smile, and ran downstairs before her determination could leach away.
In the act of pouring coffee, Jake turned when the door opened and directed a searing glance at her which appeared to draw all kinds of conclusions from her features. Ginny looked about her in trepidation, almost hoping to encounter Martha’s friendly smile, but she knew they were alone—which was a great pity.
‘Good morning.’ Nothing could be gauged from his tone, which was detached, expressionless.
‘Jake.’ She was diffident, self-conscious—rather than clear and positive as she had aimed to be. ‘Good morning.’
‘Coffee?’ He held the pot poised over a cup.
‘Thank you.’ As he poured she took her seat at the table, shook out her napkin, and as he sat down she looked at him. ‘Jake... I...’ She bit her lip.
A raised eyebrow, a cool, enquiring look did nothing for her tensions, and she forced herself to continue. ‘Jake...what time did you get back last night? I’m awfully sorry, I must have fallen asleep.’
‘Well...’ He drank from his cup and replaced it on the saucer. ‘I wasn’t awfully late.’ His mocking of that particular word normally would have made her grin—now it was an irritant, exactly as he’d intended it to be. ‘I did come into your bedroom, but there was no reply.’
‘Well, as I said...’ She hated lying, especially to him, but since their whole relationship was based on deceit, did it matter? ‘I’m sorry.’
With great care she took some butter and spooned a little preserve onto the plate beside the toast. ‘Jake—’ the word burst out without thought ‘—I am sorry about what happened. Things got out of control, and as I told you...I’m not into multiple relationships.’ Deceit was becoming increasingly simple. ‘I’m...I’m not...’
His tone was harsh. ‘Are you implying now that you are not free?’ He regarded her with considered contempt. ‘And you are so involved with this man that within a day or two of leaving him you are very nearly in bed with someone else?’ He seemed to find her rising colour of some significance. ‘Not what I would call a very serious commitment. Scarcely the romance of the century.’
‘Is that...’ Tears were stinging behind her eyes and her voice was not entirely steady, but she raised her chin defiantly. ‘Is that what you really think of me?’
He rubbed a weary hand between his eyes. ‘What am I supposed to think? Oh...’ He gave an impatient shake of his head, rose and paced across the room. ‘No.’ He sighed deeply. ‘I’m the one who is sorry. I should not have said what I did. I had no right and it was...’
‘You were provoked...’
‘It’s probably good for my ego.’ He gave a slightly bitter laugh. ‘Anyway, forget it. I certainly have.’
‘Oh...’ That last comment shocked her—that he could so carelessly dismiss what had been for her the most profound, the most searing... But of course, unlike her, he was most likely enjoying such affairs every other night...
The thought made her long to howl with self-pity. She swallowed a morsel of toast, rather surprised that it didn’t quite choke her, and sipped some coffee. Then, making a decision, she straightened her spine and spoke in the same casual tone he had used. ‘But you don’t seem... How can I put this? You seem...unhappy...disillusioned. Angry with me, despite what...’
‘All of that except the last.’
‘Jake?’ She was puzzled, and frowned.
‘Randy had to be put down last night.’
His words hung in the air—the stark pain hit her like a kick in the stomach and she longed, with all her strength, to go and put her arms round him, to give him comfort. But that was exactly what she dared not do, and words were so utterly banal.
‘Jake... I’m so...so sorry.’
‘That was the telephone call...’ He swung round from where he was standing at the window and smiled bleakly. ‘The call which came so opportunely.’ He spoke through his teeth. ‘It was from Miguel to say he had had to call the vet. He had been trying to contact me but we must have been at the club... Randy was in great pain and I had to give permission for them to...to do what was necessary.’
When they’d been at the club. Her mind was almost blank with the misery of it. If it hadn’t been for her visit, this visit, which she ought never to have made, he would most likely have been at home, and then...
‘Your parents will be devas—’
‘Oh—they rang half an hour ago; they send their love. Should be about to sail now...’
‘Did you tell them? About Randy, I mean?’
‘No. There was no point in spoiling their cruise and—Damn!’
He glared at the jangling telephone, snatched the receiver impatiently from the wall and uttered a weary sigh as he listened to what was being said. All of which gave Ginny the chance simply to look at him under the pretence of finishing her coffee.
There was no earthly reason why she should deny herself that pleasure, when very soon... She stared at the dark grey trousers, cut low on the hips—the kind of immaculately tailored casual wear which appealed to her. Dark blue shirt, silk tie—all very smart and impeccable... Clearly it had not been his intention to spend the day in country pursuits...
She sighed, rose and began to collect the things from the table onto a tray, starting to tune into his conversation as it was coming to an end. It was all to do with business—a problem of some importance which was forcing him to make decisions.
‘Yes, get on to Carrington right away. We don’t want any misunderstandings on this one. After that, try Geoff Hoare. You might have to contact him at home. I seem to think he’s not fully recovered... No! No, I don’t want my father to be involved; it’s one of those things which will sort itself out, but if he did hear I wouldn’t put it past him to fly back from... No, not a word... I shall be with you just as soon as I can... Mmm... Well, within the next few hours, I would say... Yes. Goodbye, Karen. See you soon.’
Turning round abruptly, Jake caught Ginny’s eye—he could hardly fail to notice her intense interest, but not, she hoped, the pang of jealousy she had felt when she understood he had been speaking with his secretary. Nevertheless, his raised eyebrow brought a wave of colour rushing into her cheeks which no amount of self-discipline could control.
‘I’m sorry, Ginny.’ A couple of steps brought him close. Her lungs filled with the faint but distinctive scent of his cologne and she could have sworn she felt the heat from his body, but most likely she was mistaken. She gazed up.
‘Sorry?’ The word was repeated blankly.
‘I have to go back to the city.’
‘Oh?’ Relief ought to have been her reaction, so why this sudden feeling of desolation? ‘Oh, I see.’ Making an effort, she half turned, picking up the tray. ‘Well...’ She gave a tiny forced laugh and walked towards the kitchen. She paused, balancing the tray on one hip as she hesitated by the open door. ‘As it happens I had my mind made up. I must make a move today.’
The intensity of his expression caused her to catch her breath but her averted head would surely hide her pain. She put down her tray and began to stack the crockery in the dishwasher.
‘Leave that, for heaven’s sake.’ His tone was impatient, peremptory.
‘I don’t want to leave a mess for Martha when she comes back.’ How prim and self-righteous she sounded!
‘There won’t be. There’s a whole army of women who come in to help.’
‘That didn’t take a minute.’ She rinsed her hands and dried them while looking out at the sweep of parkland—the majestic trees, the horses grazing contentedly in the adjoining field. There was an ache in her chest as she admitted she was seeing it for the last time. She would never dare to come back...
As she turned she fixed
on an artificial smile, dazzling and contrived. ‘May I beg a lift from you?’
‘You need not beg. You simply have to ask.’ His eyes searched her features with a desperate probing, as though seeking an answer to an insoluble problem. ‘And of course you may...’
Never had she seen him so sombre. Of course, it was all to do with Randy—she need not make any connection with it having anything to do with Ginny Browne. But she longed, with all her heart and soul, to put her arms about him, to comfort him in the tender way a woman could soothe a man. Not with sex—although that was a powerful component—this was not the time for sex. It was simply the time to take a step forward, to pull his head down to hers and to murmur all the kind, emollient words which might help to ease the pain he was feeling...
But of course she had already decided that that was denied her—along with the opportunity to do all the ordinary little things women did for the men they loved... She bit her lip, turned away and spoke over her shoulder with a tiny catch in her voice which he must have picked up. ‘What... what time do we leave?’
‘As soon as we can. I’ll get Neil to fly us. He’s our pilot, when we need one. I’ll give him a ring while you go and pack.’
‘I’ve already done that.’ The words were out before she could consider.
‘I see.’ It was an endless moment that they stood gazing at each other—she wishing she had cut off her tongue rather than reveal her plans, and he clearly drawing all kinds of conclusions, though she doubted any of them would come close to the truth. Certainly the truth that she dared not trust herself in his company was not one which would occur to him.
In no time at all they were sitting together in the executive jet as it headed north across the Delaware en route for New York. There was a sense of relief that she had found the strength to stick to her decision, but it was impossible to pretend there was no grief as they skimmed over the Vanbrugh ranch and made a sweep over the house. Her forehead pressed on the window to catch the last elusive glimpse.
Perhaps there was a chance, just a chance, that she and Hugo might meet up some time in the future. It was a decision he would have to make. But any such meeting would be on neutral ground, most likely in London if he ever came to the UK on business.
Jake, it appeared, had lost interest in the sheaf of papers he had been frowning over. There was a reluctant pleasure in being obliged to turn towards him as he spoke. ‘You did say you might like to come back next year.’
‘Yes, I did, didn’t I?’ Ginny’s slightly caustic tone caused his manner to change from the comparatively benign to one more guarded. They stared at each other for a moment before he went on, slowly.
‘Am I to conclude, then, that you have changed your mind about that?’
‘Jake.’ Suddenly her eyes ached with tears—that damned rock was firmly back in the middle of her chest and... She surprised herself by reaching out a hand to cover his. ‘Jake, it’s got to be the best thing. Surely you can see...?’
‘If you’re telling me the truth, I...’
‘What?’ All her suppressed nerviness erupted before she could check it. Then she continued more moderately, ‘What on earth do you mean?’
‘Simply what you said last night.’ The narrowed eyes surely signified suspicion. ‘I—and I’m sure most people would agree—find it hard to reconcile what happened between us with any very serious relationship you might...’
Anger and misery made her sound much more abrasive than she intended. ‘But even if we try to achieve perfection, we are not always successful. Any student of human nature would confirm as much.’ And if you don’t believe me then ask your father for his opinion, she added cattily, but silently.
‘Mmm.’ He studied her averted profile. ‘I shan’t argue with that, just...’
‘Yes?’ she challenged nervily, turning to glare.
‘Just, I have this feeling—one or two things don’t add up.’
‘You mustn’t...’ With a supreme effort she tried to unwind. It would be fatal if her manner encouraged him to become too inquisitive, too questioning. ‘When you don’t get your own way, you mustn’t turn that into a mystery.’
‘If you say so.’ Though he spoke lightly, she had the feeling he was unconvinced. He continued to look at her with that speculative expression. Then, as if he had come to a decision, his face cleared and his lips curved into a rather reluctant smile which caused a responsive throb deep in her stomach. ‘Well, tell me, what are your plans for when you reach New York?’
‘Oh...’ To catch the first flight for Heathrow, was her most obvious choice. But she shrugged, pursed her lips. ‘Look around for a bit. I’ve seen hardly anything so far. To book into my hotel again is the first thing, I suppose.’
He smiled, took her hand and squeezed it, ‘That is out. You’ll stay in my flat. There’s masses of room.’
‘Oh, no, Jake.’ The very idea was lethal. It would have been easy to detach her hand—easy and sensible—but... she didn’t want to. She wanted to stay like this for as long as possible and that in itself said it all.
‘Thank you for the offer—I do appreciate it. But with my plans so—so fluid it would be best if I were in a hotel and—’
‘Nonsense. If you’re worried about the proprieties, you needn’t be. And if you’re concerned about what happened...’
‘Jake!’ She refused to allow him to say anything about the previous night—not with her still feeling so raw, so ready to burst into tears at the least provocation. ‘I prefer to be a free agent, Jake. I’ll find a hotel. In fact...’ She reluctantly freed her hand so she could look in her handbag. ‘I have the Excelsior’s number right here...’
‘You could stay in the penthouse in the Vanbrugh building—Mother and Father wouldn’t mind.’
‘Jake, please. Will you allow me to run my own life?’
‘Okay.’ He shrugged. ‘Okay, if that’s what you want.’ He sighed. ‘I can see you’re one very determined female lawyer.’
Her disapproving expression made him laugh and after a moment she joined in.
‘But at least, when we get in, use the office. If the Excelsior is full then Karen has a list you can use.’
She nodded. It was impossible to disagree with such an eminently sensible suggestion.
Except that when she did reach the office, and Jake’s attention was immediately grabbed by people from half a dozen departments, it soon became clear that almost every hotel in the immediate vicinity was fully booked—and Karen was soon obviously wearying of the whole exercise of trying.
‘They too are completely booked up, Miss Browne.’ She put down the phone after trying yet another. ‘Do you want me to keep on trying?’
‘What is it, Karen?’ Jake, at that very moment rushing through the office, paused by his secretary’s desk.
‘This big conference, Jake. It seems all the decent hotels are full—unless Miss Browne is willing to move further out?’
‘This is ridiculous, Ginny.’ He sounded mildly irritated. ‘Give in and go upstairs. Karen has a key and she’ll show you the apartment—that ought to clinch the deal.’ He grinned, as if to demonstrate that he always got his way in the end.
Which was all too true.
The apartment was the last word in elegance—it would have taken a gold medallist in self-denial to turn down the opportunity of even a brief spell there. Besides, she was a bit unhappy with herself—conscience-stricken about her rather ungracious reaction when he had first offered her the use of the apartment. Accepting it now would ease that feeling.
The next few hours were sheer bliss as she wandered about, picking up the vibrant atmosphere of the streets, drifting into world-famous stores—so glossy and gleaming and lavish they took one’s breath away. She bought a few things—gifts for friends and colleagues—and was amused when, emerging from one of the most prestigious stores, she found herself next to a tiny, scruffy box of a place offering: THE ALL-AMERICAN BACK RUB $10. Walking on, she smiled to herself, toying wit
h various weird ideas of what that might imply.
Gathering herself together, she went on more purposefully, passing a Madison Avenue pavement café which she’d heard was famous for so-called ‘babe-watching’! She was aware as she approached that one handsome fair man was studying her closely over the top of his dark glasses, but he smiled philosophically when she refused to take advantage of his implicit invitation.
There was just so much to see—she would not have believed it. Her mind was a blur of images and impressions: so much wealth, such high fashion, and every other woman, or so it seemed, leading a spoiled, pampered Pekinese dog to indicate that she had everything else.
Yes, fabulous, fabulous New York. But now her legs and feet were aching, and it seemed a good idea to head back to the apartment and plan a day of more organised sight-seeing for tomorrow. It was so easy to get a cab—she merely stood on the edge of the pavement, held up her hand and one pulled up. She climbed in and sat back in the seat, her mind fixed upon the pleasures of the most sybaritic marble bathtub she had ever seen.
It was while she was lying amidst deliciously scented bubbles that the telephone shrilled alarmingly, right against her ear. It was easily traced to a little recessed cupboard in the tiled wall by the bath.
‘Hello?’ The sound of her voice made Ginny giggle—it was husky and provocative, like a glamorous film star’s.
‘Ginny.’ For some reason that particular voice was a shock, an intrusion into very intimate circumstances. Modestly she slipped a few inches lower in the water.
‘J-Jake.’
‘What are you doing? Have I caught you at an inconvenient moment?’
‘Of course not,’ she denied, too quickly, rather pleased he could neither see her blush nor hear her heart thumping. Then a thought flew into her mind which almost produced another giggling fit. Perhaps she should quote Marilyn Monroe: ‘I just caught my big toe in the faucet and could use a plumber!’ It seemed an appropriate line but she didn’t use it. Her voice continued as coolly as she could have hoped. ‘No, not at all. Have you solved your problem?’
A Reckless Affair Page 10