A Reckless Affair

by Alexandra Scott

  ‘The major one.’ He laughed briefly. ‘But there are always others. About tonight, Ginny...’

  ‘Tonight?’ Immediately defensive, she sat up. Tonight she planned to eat the pizza she had bought and drink some coffee—if she could work out how to do that in the space-age kitchen.

  ‘I’m going to be late. Shan’t be able to pick you up till about nine-thirty, I’m afraid. But there’s a pleasant little bistro close by and—’

  ‘Jake, there’s absolutely no need...’

  ‘I know that.’ His tone was mild. ‘But it’s what I want. And I hope it’s something you want too. So... nine-thirty? Okay?’

  ‘Thank you, Jake. Nine-thirty.’ She replaced the receiver and subsided in the warm water with her eyes closed. She lay quite, quite still—but with her brain racing in wild overdrive.

  In fact, it was just before nine-thirty when Jake Vanbrugh let himself into the apartment, stood for a moment in the spacious hallway and called her name as he walked into the sitting room.

  He looked handsome and relaxed, and, if Ginny had been there, she would have noticed that he had found time in his hectic day to have his hair trimmed, that he was freshly shaved and smelled of that subtle distinctive cologne. She would have approved the easy style of his casual jacket, the maroon open-necked shirt, would even have noticed the fine calf shoes, but...

  But Ginny was no longer in the apartment. At that precise moment she was in the queue at the airport, awaiting the security check before boarding her plane for Heathrow. And each time someone brushed against her, her eyes widened in guilty anxiety.

  Again Jake called her name, frowned. As he was about to walk through to the bedrooms his eye was caught by a thick cream envelope propped up against a flower vase. It was addressed to him. His face hardened as he slipped a finger beneath the flap and extracted a single sheet of paper. Quickly he skimmed the few lines of small, neat writing.

  Jake, dear,

  I made one brief call to London. I hope you don’t mind. A very urgent matter is awaiting my attention so I think it is time to go. Maybe it is best this way—I hate goodbyes, don’t you? Thank you for everything.

  Ginny.

  Stony-faced, Jake crossed to where the telephone sat on top of an antique cabinet and bent to open a door. A few buttons operated the electronic recording system which monitored all incoming and outgoing calls and he straightened up slowly as tapes whirred and connections clicked.

  His expression was grim as he heard Ginny begin her pleading negotiations with an airline official and he switched it off in disgust when he faced the reality of her lying.

  Teeth clenched, unseeing, he strode across to the wide picture window with its panoramic view of a thousand glinting windows. Then he turned, crumpled up the letter which he still held and hurled it from him. His fist beat several times against his forehead and he groaned. She had lied to him.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  BACK in London, Ginny’s time in the States began to take on the illusory aura of a dream. Once or twice in the night she woke to find her face and pillow wet. But that, and the weight of misery inside, were the only reminders that there was nothing imaginary about what had happened.

  It was a blessing that Jake had left her in peace, that he had made no attempt to follow her.

  Strap-hanging on the tube one day, on her way back to the Wimbledon flat which she shared with her friend Kate, she refused to acknowledge her half-formed hope that he would do just that. If his feelings had been half as strong as hers, then there was no way he could have resisted. But, as she kept telling herself so consistently, he had recognised that she meant what she had said and had acted accordingly.

  The volume of work which had enveloped her on her return had been another plus. It had left her with little time to mope, to dwell on what might have been. With difficulty she suppressed a yawn, straightened up and began to edge towards the doors as the train slowed for her station. In fact, she admitted, she was tired out—emotionally and physically exhausted.

  Her heels struck sharply against the pavement as she hurried the short distance to her flat. What wouldn’t she give for the chance to avoid this evening’s theatre trip? It had been arranged as a treat by Kate’s brother Nick, who was staying with them temporarily. He had been so triumphant at acquiring three tickets for the most popular show in the West End... Ah, well. She had promised and must try to endure it, but she was not in the mood for the trite romantic lyrics, nor for sentimental music...

  When she pushed open the door of the flat, Nick was heading towards the sitting room carrying a tray of mugs and a teapot. ‘Here you are, sweetie. I saw you crossing the street and thought you needed reviving.’

  ‘Thanks, Nick.’ She followed him in, discarding her jacket and stepping out of her shoes with a sigh. ‘I truly need this.’ She subsided onto the settee and sipped thirstily.

  ‘Busy day?’

  ‘Frantic. In fact, after I drink this I think I’ll have just half an hour on my bed—try to put the brain into neutral.’

  ‘You work too hard, darling.’ Nick was an actor—usually resting, but with all the affectations of a Henry Irving. ‘That’s what I was telling Kate...’

  ‘Oh, when will she be back?’

  ‘I was about to say, she rang and wants us to meet her at the theatre. Something to do with Colin asking her to meet a client. Bosses!’ He shook a disapproving head. ‘Glad I don’t have one.’

  ‘Don’t tempt fate. Not when you’re hoping to get a part soon.’

  ‘No, you’re right, of course. Anyway, if it’s all right with you, I think I’ll have a shower.’

  ‘Fine.’

  ‘Bless you, darling. I’ll be as quick as I can.’

  Ginny smiled ruefully as she closed the door of her bedroom, stripped off her black skirt and blouse and lay down on the bed with a sigh of sheer relief.

  Fond as she was of Nick, she hoped his stay would not be unduly prolonged—it wasn’t always convenient having the sitting room used as a bedroom... But a night or two was all right, and she didn’t want to have to mention it to Kate.

  Kate, of course, worried about her young, slightly irresponsible brother; who wouldn’t? But he did have his own place in Brighton, and his excuse of seeing his agent about a TV role... Well, you could use that only so often... Her eyes drifted closed as drowsiness overtook her. Thoughts about Nick were submerged, and...

  For a second or two she could not understand the intrusion. Then the doorbell shrilled again, urgent and imperious.

  Damn you, Kate! Still sleepy, she sprang from her bed at the same time reaching out for her bathrobe. Crossing the hall, she could hear the sounds of running water from the direction of the bathroom. She threw the front door wide, her mouth forming words for her flatmate to the effect that they were supposed to be meeting up in the theatre foyer.

  Only...it wasn’t a woman standing there. Jake Vanbrugh was looking down at her, totally masculine, dominant as ever, and... The hallway began slowly to spin, her heart was hammering loudly against her ribcage, her mouth was dry, her hands were slippery with perspiration. But they clung tenaciously to the heavy door. She had no wish to repeat that stupid episode from his New York office.

  ‘I...’ One hand made an attempt to pull together the edges of her robe and one of her first coherent thoughts was regret that he was seeing her in such a state.

  ‘Ginny.’ His voice, too, had a sensual throb, a faint hesitancy. But no, he wasn’t that kind of man... ‘May I come in?’

  ‘Of course you may.’ She found her voice again, wondered if it sounded genuinely welcoming. ‘This is a great surprise, Jake.’

  ‘I suppose it must be,’ he agreed drily, pushing the door behind him. He stood looking at her—the striking eyes held an expression she found impossible to identify.

  ‘Wh—when did you arrive?’ Being disorientated, it did not occur to her to invite him into the sitting room. All her skills as a hostess had simply evaporated. Besides, she wa
s anxious about the sounds from the bathroom, of water escaping down the plughole. She could tell that Jake was diverted too, saw him cast a quick glance towards the door before replying.

  ‘I’ve just arrived. I came straight on here from the airport.’

  ‘How...?’ But perhaps she ought not to ask this question—it did draw attention to her discourtesy in not leaving her address. But then he must know that that decision had been quite deliberate. ‘How did you know where to find me?’

  ‘It wasn’t difficult.’ His cool expression brought some colour to her cheeks. ‘I had my attorney call your company, and...’ A shrug completed the explanation.

  No one, she thought mutinously, had the right to divulge her private details. The protest sprang to her lips but remained unvoiced—after all, she knew enough to understand how easy it could be: Her telephone number was listed, for one thing, and...

  She tried a negligent smile. ‘Well...’ She tried to plan what to do with him—Nick might just blunder into the sitting room, her bedroom was out, for obvious reasons, and the kitchen...not exactly the perfect setting for whatever was going to happen...

  But, even as her mind raced in circles, the door opened and Nick emerged from the bathroom, doubly draped in towels—one wrapped round his waist, another tented about his head.

  ‘Bath’s free, Ginny!’ He seemed to be directing the information towards her bedroom door. ‘If you want someone to scrub your back, just call, darling.’ With that he disappeared into Kate’s room, where his clothes were stored, almost immediately poking his head round the door and into the hallway.

  ‘Sorry.’ He wore his disarming ‘juvenile lead’ smile. ‘Sorry. I had no idea we had a visitor. Forgive me for interrupting.’ Then he disappeared behind the closed door, leaving a silence which was very nearly tangible.

  When at last he spoke Jake’s manner was more grim than she had ever known it, striking at her heart like a dagger. ‘It looks rather as if I’m the one who is interrupting.’

  ‘No.’ Such a half-hearted denial! Probably because of the ambivalence of her reactions. On the one hand Nick’s intervention might have been timely, but on the other... In any event, Nick might just have convinced Jake that things were exactly as she had suggested in Virginia.

  It was simply that she could almost read his mind, could tell how it was working and, in spite of everything, she resented his acceptance that Nick Willis could possibly be the man in her life. Nothing about him had ever appealed to her in that way, and...

  All at once she remembered her manners. ‘Jake, do come in.’ She waved her hand in a vague gesture. ‘You must have some tea.’

  From the direction of the bedroom came sounds of Nick moving about, whistling, off-key, one of the tunes they might expect to hear later in the evening.

  ‘No. No, thank you, Ginny. I simply came by to ask if you would have dinner with me tonight.’

  ‘Oh, Jake, I’m so sorry. I don’t think—’

  ‘Ginny, darling,’ the voice came as though from off-stage. A fair head and a puckish face poked round the door. ‘I don’t suppose you’ve found my blue tie? No?’ From her expression he drew his own conclusions, ‘I guess not. But...if we’re not going to miss the first act...’

  Jake’s lips barely moved as he spoke. ‘I can see I’ve come at a bad time.’

  ‘No. It’s simply...’ She could have howled with misery, with frustration, with her sense of aching loss, with anger at Nick for butting in, with Jake... Oh, yes. High-degree anger with Jake, for drawing so many wrong conclusions. Surely he could see...? But men were so obtuse... Tears of self-pity were rapidly blinked away. ‘Nick is taking me to a show.’

  Nick, who had gone in search of the missing tie, reappeared and held it out towards Ginny. ‘Can you fix this for me, love?’ His sheepish grin in Jake’s direction was not even acknowledged. ‘I’m useless with these things.’

  Ginny found it impossible to go on ignoring the niceties. ‘Jake, this is Nick.’ Dealing efficiently with the tie, she resisted the inclination to pull it tight. ‘Nick, Jake Vanbrugh.’

  ‘You’re American.’ As Nick spoke he looked at himself in the hall mirror and smiled in satisfaction. ‘This girl is a whizz with ties. I’ve always wanted to go to the States.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes. And I’ll make it one of these days.’ Ostentatiously he glanced at his watch. ‘Ginny...’ he sang warningly.

  ‘Well, I shan’t hold you back.’ Jake moved towards the door. ‘I can see you’re anxious to be off. Goodbye, Ginny.’

  ‘Jake, I...’ Desperate longing to detain him overcame her good sense. ‘How long are you to be in London?’

  ‘It’s just a flying visit.’ Uncompromisingly sombre, still the brilliant eyes were unable to resist searching her face. It was as if he were determined to find some explanation there.

  While she, foolishly, occupied her mind with an assortment of vague regrets—that he had seen her with her hair so untidy, her face bare of even the merest touch of make-up! Oh, why hadn’t she drenched herself in that heavenly duty-free perfume, instead of...? But she caught at such daft notions. If she could have chosen sensibly, wasn’t this exactly the meeting she would have planned, for safety’s sake?

  ‘Well, thank you, Jake. And thank you for the invitation. Maybe next time you are in London you’ll call me...’

  ‘Yes, I’ll do that.’ His tone was a total contradiction of the promise. ‘Goodbye, Ginny.’ He looked round as Nick came in, shrugging himself into his jacket. ‘Goodbye.’

  ‘Oh, goodbye. Been nice meeting you.’ The instant the door closed Nick’s voice took on a new note of urgency. ‘And if you don’t get a move on, Ginny, we really are going to be late.’

  But they made it, with a few minutes to spare, meeting up with Kate who was pacing up and down outside the theatre, rushing forward as each taxi pulled into the kerb.

  ‘Thank heaven.’ She grabbed Ginny by the arm, rushing her towards the stalls entrance. ‘I was about to give you both up.’ She glanced round at her brother. ‘I hope you have the tickets, Nick.’

  ‘Yes, sweetie, of course I have the tickets—and don’t blame me for being late. This time I am completely innocent. It’s all down to Ginny and an American who turned up on the doorstep at the last minute. I swear she was on the point of swanning off with him and standing us up.’

  ‘Ginny?’ Kate began curiously, but then they were being shown into their row amid much disturbance and the orchestra was tuning up for the overture. ‘An American?’ she whispered as she settled.

  ‘Just someone I met while I was in the States.’

  ‘You dark horse. You never mentioned...’

  ‘Shh. It’s about to begin. I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow.’

  And Ginny sat, hearing but not listening, applauding automatically when the others did, even sighing with pleasure at the most romantic passages—in short, giving the appearance of enjoyment when her heart and mind were elsewhere.

  Next morning she was due in court, but before that she was able to squeeze in a visit to the hairdresser. It was essential to restore her morale, which had been so badly dented by the unexpected visitor.

  Sitting looking at herself in the mirror, it was some relief for her to see that she didn’t look quite as ghastly as she felt—in spite of a restless night. With her hair gleaming as it was now and a touch of translucent make-up much of her self-esteem was restored.

  ‘Thanks, Charlie.’ She smiled as she rose and reached for the short coat she was wearing for the first time. Her eyes encountered the stylist’s admiring glance.

  ‘Very, very nice,’ he said, which more or less confirmed her own point of view.

  ‘Thanks,’ she said again, and before she turned away she reassured herself. Yes, the intense pink brought a glow to her skin, made her eyes look more luminous than they had looked for some time—and she just loved the contrast against her short black skirt and black silk polo. Then her heart sank. ‘Heav
ens, I must rush—if you would be an angel, Charlie, and call me a taxi?’

  She managed to get to court just in time, a little breathless as she walked the hundred or so yards from the office but nonetheless pleased that she had taken the time to give her damaged ego a boost.

  Her case was perfectly straightforward, her preparation watertight, so her client won—always a satisfactory state of affairs. Then it was back to the office, trying to sort out in her mind what she should tackle first after lunch.

  ‘Oh, Ginny.’ The receptionist caught her as she began to climb the stairs to her room on the first floor. ‘Mr Welsh said would you go to his office the moment you got back from court.’

  ‘Oh?’ After a moment’s pause she continued slowly, talking over the banister. ‘Did he say what it was about, Kim?’

  ‘No.’ The other girl shrugged. ‘He has a client with him. Oh...hang on.’ She rushed off in the direction of a persistent telephone.

  As she continued thoughtfully up the stairs, Ginny frowned a little. It was unusual for the senior partner to call a junior to his office and, since she didn’t flatter herself that he wanted help or advice, there was just the ghastly fear that she might have made some awful mistake...

  All at once Mr Welsh’s office door was thrown open and the man himself stood there, smiling with such benevolence that she knew an immediate sense of relief. It couldn’t be anything too dire. ‘Ah, Ginny, we saw you coming across the square, and...’

  ‘Kim said you were anxious to speak with me.’

  ‘Come in, Ginny, come in.’ She was ushered into the opulent mahogany-lined room, which always seemed to smell of lavender polish, where the brass canopy at the old-fashioned fireplace gleamed with a hundred years of old-fashioned elbow grease. But today the view from the magnificent windows was obscured by the tall figure who turned as she stepped inside. Jake!