Living Together

by Carole Mortimer

  Helen slowly replaced her own receiver, biting her lip painfully. She was so confused, so confused.

  ‘Helen?’ Jenny probed gently into her torment. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘He—Leon wants me to go and live with him when he gets back from America.’ She gave Jenny an almost guilty look. She hadn’t meant to blurt it out quite like that.

  ‘And are you going to?’ Jenny asked casually.

  Helen’s eyebrows lifted. ‘You don’t seem very surprised.’

  Jenny shrugged. ‘I guessed how he felt about you—even without him making this special trip back to see you.’

  ‘But to ask me to go and live with him…! Not even I thought he would suggest something like that.’

  ’Are you going to?’ her cousin repeated.

  Her eyes dropped and fell. ‘I don’t know.’

  * * *

  She still didn’t know two weeks later. It was early evening, Leon would be home soon, and she still didn’t know what to do.

  Leon had kept his word and not contacted her at all. Perhaps if she had been able to talk to him, know that he still felt the same way about her, her decision might have been easier to make. As it was she was still confused—and her time for thinking had run out.

  Jenny looked at. her over the top of her magazine. ‘Well, are you going?’

  That was indeed the question! ‘I still haven’t decided.’

  Jenny looked pointedly down at her wrist-watch. ‘Leaving it a bit late, aren’t you?’

  Helen frowned. ‘What would you do? Would you move in with him?’ It was the first time she had ventured Jenny’s opinion on the subject.

  ‘Like a shot!’ Jenny grinned.

  ‘But I don’t love him. I don’t know what I feel for him.’

  ‘But you do feel something?’

  Helen took a deep breath. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then go to him.’

  ‘But he doesn’t love me either,’ she protested.

  ‘He feels enough to make more of a commitment to you than he has to any other woman. He’s never offered to live with a woman before.’

  ‘Marriage is a commitment,’ Helen derided. ‘Living together can’t be called that.’

  ‘Do you want marriage?’

  ‘No!’ she replied instantly.

  ‘Then there you have your answer. Leon isn’t stupid, he knows you wouldn’t accept marriage even if he offered it.’

  ‘You really think I should just move in with him? Doesn’t it shock you that I’m even considering it?’

  Jenny shook her head. ‘He’s good for you, Helen. These last four or five weeks you’ve started to live again. And in my book that’s all that matters.’

  Helen’s emotions warred with each other. If she didn’t go to Leon now she might never see him again. And she wanted to see him very much, the gentle kiss they had shared still very much on her mind.

  She stood up, coming to her decision in that moment. ‘I’ll just go and pack my suitcase.’

  CHAPTER SIX

  HELEN’S confidence had deserted her by the time she arrived at Leon’s apartment, and she had changed her mind a hundred times. What if he should have changed his mind about her? What if he hadn’t told Max to expect her? There were any number of questions running through her tortured mind—and all of them without answers.

  Max opened the door to her tentative knock, stepping back to open the door wider when he saw who it was. ‘Good evening, Mrs West,’ he said politely, taking the suitcase out of her hand. ‘I have your room prepared if you’ll follow me.’

  Well, that answered one of her questions; she was obviously expected. She followed the manservant into a pale blue and white decorated room, her feet sinking luxuriously into the thick pile of the fluffy white carpet. The furniture was white too, the bedspread on the double bed pale blue, as were the curtains. It was a lovely room, the vase of red roses on the dressing-table giving it a homely touch.

  ‘I hope the room is to your satisfaction, Mrs West?’ Max enquired solicitously.

  ‘It’s lovely, thank you,’ Helen smiled shyly.

  ‘You have a bathroom through here,’ he opened the connecting door, showing her into a brown and lemon bathroom that was the last thing in luxury, the large round bath sunken into the floor.

  ‘What—what time are you expecting Mr Masters?’ she asked jerkily, unable to meet his eyes.

  ‘He telephoned from the airport a short time ago and should be here very soon. He asked to speak to you, but of course you hadn’t yet arrived.’

  ‘Oh,’ Helen bit her lip.

  Max hesitated at the bedroom door. ‘Will there be anything else, Mrs West?’

  ‘Er—no, no, thank you.’

  ‘Very well,’ he nodded politely before leaving the room.

  Helen slumped down on the bed once he had left. That hadn’t gone too badly; she had been slightly apprehensive about Max’s reaction to her staying here, but it seemed he was going to take it in his stride.

  But Leon had no idea she was here! What had he thought, what had he felt when Max had told him she hadn’t arrived? The red roses on the dressing-table seemed to point to him having expected her to turn up, and it must have shocked him to find she hadn’t.

  She stood up to gently touch one of the velvety blooms, their deep redness indicating a love that had never been declared. But Leon didn’t love her, he just wanted to be with her.

  There was a small white envelope tucked among the beautiful flowers, and Helen pulled it open with shaking fingers, shaking even more as she read what was written there. ‘Thank you.’ Leon was thanking her for being here—and as far as he knew she hadn’t turned up!

  Tears came unbidden to her eyes. Leon did care for her, he did! She just hoped he arrived soon so that she might know his magnetic, and yet somehow reassuring, presence once more.

  She was determined to look her best for him when he did arrive, choosing to wear royal blue velvet trouser suit, the trousers fitting snugly on her slender hips, the waistcoat top showing a creamy expanse of bare throat. Her hair hung in soft silky waves to her shoulders, her violet eyes sparklingly clear.

  Once she was satisfied with her appearance she went to sit in the lounge, pretending an interest in a magazine she had found on the low coffee table, but really listening for any sound that would tell her of Leon’s arrival.

  When she finally heard his key in the door her heart gave a nervous leap. It was two weeks since they had last seen each other and she had no idea how she should greet him. She stood up in jerky movements, hearing the sound of male voices as Max greeted his employer.

  ‘I’m glad your trip was successful, sir. Dinner will be ready in ten minutes, if that’s suitable?’

  ‘I don’t think I can—’

  ‘That will be fine, Max,’ Helen interrupted, her eyes on Leon as he looked up and saw her. He had the look of a drowning man just thrown a lifeline.

  It had only taken one look at Leon’s drawn tense face as he answered Max’s polite query about his trip to know that the knowledge that she hadn’t been here had hit him hard. He looked haggard, his face pale beneath the tan. Max tactfully disappeared back into the kitchen, leaving them along together.

  Leon swallowed hard, his tawny eyes devouring her. ‘Max told me you hadn’t come,’ he said dazedly.

  ‘I arrived after your call,’ she told him softly.

  ‘I—Oh God, Helen,’ he choked, dropping his briefcase and walking towards her like a man in a trance. ‘Helen,’ he groaned, gently touching one of her cheeks. ‘My sweet Helen!’

  She gave him a shaky smile. ‘Max has put me in the blue room, I hope that’s all right?’

  ‘It’s where I told him to put you. It’s the room next to mine.’

  She looked startled. ‘But that’s a bathroom!’

  ‘I’m on the other side of that,’ Leon murmured, his gaze locked on her lips. ‘I’ve thought of nothing but kissing you again the last two weeks.’

  Helen b
lushed. ‘I’ve thought of that kiss too.’

  ‘You have?’ A strange light burnt in his eyes, making them fever-bright.

  ‘Oh yes.’

  ‘Helen,’ he breathed softly. ‘You’re too much of a temptation for me.’

  ‘And are you tempted?’

  Leon’s breath caught in his throat. ‘Helen?’ he asked uncertainly, searching her features avidly.

  ‘I—Sorry.’ She turned away. ‘I’m not being fair.’ She forced a smile. ‘I suppose you want to shower and change.’

  ‘Not if you have something else to offer?’

  ‘No! No, I’m sorry, I don’t. Thank you for the roses. They’re beautiful.’

  ‘Not even a kiss hello, Helen?’ He ignored her thanks.

  She gave him an impatient look. ‘Last time it was a kiss goodbye,’ she complained.

  ‘Give me the chance and I could find reason to kiss you any time of the day—or night.’

  She spluttered with laughter. ‘You’re impossible, Leon!’

  His eyes became opaque. ‘You’re laughing, Helen,’ he said softly. ‘You’re laughing for me.’

  Her humour suddenly stopped and she looked selfconscious. ‘Go and take your shower before Max gets fed up waiting to serve dinner,’ she told him.

  ‘I really didn’t think you were going to be here, you know,’ he said wonderingly, ignoring her words. ‘I nearly didn’t bother to come back here at all, I was going to go to the nearest bar and get drunk. Then I thought, what the hell, if she won’t come to me I’ll go to her.’

  ‘But you said you wouldn’t!’

  ‘And I didn’t think I would.’ He sighed. ‘But when Max said you weren’t here I knew I’d be at your place before the night was over. I only came home to shower and change before coming to see you.’

  ‘And instead I was already here.’

  ’Yes.’ It came out as a sigh of relief. ‘I couldn’t believe it when I saw you. ‘I could have kissed you right there and then.’

  ‘I’m glad you didn’t.’ She blushed. ‘Not in front of Max.’

  ‘How about now?’

  Helen frowned teasingly. ‘You’re very persistent.’

  ‘It’s the only way I get anywhere with you. I’m not even going to ask you any more, I’m going to kiss you anyway. Come here, woman,’ said Leon fiercely, pulling her to the hardness of his body, his hands linked loosely at the base of her spine as he moulded her curves to him. ‘Put your arms around me, darling,’ he encouraged. ‘I want to feel your hands on my body.’

  Her face stained red. ‘You’re embarrassing me!’

  ‘Touch me, Helen. Caress me,’ he groaned, bending to put his lips fleetingly against her throat. ‘Touch me, Helen. Can’t you feel how badly I want that?’

  Her arms moved tentatively below the jacket of the cream suit he wore, feeling the heat of his skin through the brown silk shirt. She could feel the tension in his body as her fingers splayed across, his taut back; it was the same tension displayed in his face.

  ‘Are you sure this is a good idea?’ she said against his hair-roughened chest, her cheek coming into contact with his skin as his shirt was partly unbuttoned.

  ‘I think it’s a fantastic idea,’ he said against her ear-lobe.

  Helen grapsed as he gently nibbled her ear, his tongue following the shell-like curve. She could feel the usual trembling fear beginning within her. ‘Leon, I—’

  ‘I know.’ He moved his head back to look at her. ‘But a few weeks ago you wouldn’t even have let me be this close.’

  It was true, and the way she was reacting to his caresses made her nervous. She had been denied a male closeness for so long now that just the touch of his hands made her tremble. Perhaps her living here like this wasn’t such a good idea after all. Leon wanted to sleep with her but had mentioned nothing about loving her. She could be hurt more by Leon than she had been by Michael, could find herself becoming dependent on him, and when they finally parted she would be devastated. Already she was beginning to respond to him, learning to accept his touch, to want it even.

  ‘I think you should let me go now,’ she told him huskily, her arms dropping to her sides.

  ‘Not yet,’ he refused, and bent his head to claim her lips with his, gently prising hers apart.

  Helen could feel the moist sweetness of his mouth enveloping her, his hands moving over her body in slow circular movements. She was melting against him, her mouth inviting him to more intimacies, intimacies he wasn’t slow to take advantage of, leaving her in no doubt as to the conclusion he would like this embrace to come to.

  When she at last drew away from him she was breathless, her senses spinning. She couldn’t believe she had let this man get this close to her, had allowed him to take liberties with her that no other man had taken. Michael certainly hadn’t been interested in kissing her on their wedding night; his only interest was in the thrusting desire of his own body. All that he had wanted that night had been a female body, any female body, and the fact that she was his wife meant that he didn’t have to make any attempt to woo her before getting her into his bed.

  She had been a fool about Michael, a blind impetuous fool who had imagined herself in love with a surface charm and a handsome boyish face. But she had paid for her stupidity—God, how she had paid for it!

  Leon shook her, bringing her back to an awareness of still standing in the circle of his arms. His mouth was a thin angry line as he looked down at her, the warm sensuality of a moment ago completely obliterated by his anger. He shook her again. ‘Will you forget him!’ he ground out furiously. ‘Forget the bastard!’

  ‘I try, I really try. But each time you—it always reminds me of the way it was with him, and I—I can’t—’

  ‘Oh God, Helen!’ He thrust her savagely away from him. ‘You can give me no worse insult than to liken me to him.’ His face twisted bitterly. ‘You may as well leave now if you think I’m ever going to abuse you the way he did. I want to make love to you, not rape you!’

  ‘Is there a difference?’ she asked dully.

  ‘You know damn well there is,’ he snapped, all gentleness gone from the hard planes of his face.

  ‘If I ever did know I’ve forgotten,’ she told him quietly.

  Leon’s hands clenched at his sides, hands that only seconds earlier had been caressing her. He looked as if he would like to hurt her now, but instead he turned on his heel and slammed into what must be his bedroom.

  When Max came out of the kitchen a few minutes later it was to find Helen huddled in one of the armchairs, her face stricken. The manservant frowned his concern. ‘Are you feeling quite well, Mrs West?’ he enquired gently.

  She gave him a wan smile. ‘I’m fine, thank you, Max. Perhaps I’m more hungry than I realised.’

  He seemed relieved. ‘As soon as Mr Masters is ready I’ll serve the meal.’

  He must have found it strange after saying she was hungry that Helen hardly touched her meal. The chicken cooked in a spicy sauce and the fresh green salad were delicious, and the creamy peach dessert was out of this world, but Leon glowering across the table at her was not.

  He had returned from the bedroom obviously refreshed from a shower and a change of clothes, the black silk shirt unbuttoned casually to the waist in the heat of the apartment, the black trousers resting low down on his lean hips, and yet Helen could see his anger hadn’t abated; his scowl was indicative of his mood.

  Neither of them did justice to the meal and Helen smiled apologetically at the manservant as he cleared away the dishes. Leon sat moodily on the sofa, shrouded in the smoke from the cheroots he lit one after the other. Helen watched him from beneath lowered lashes, sipping the coffee Leon had refused, preferring a large glass of brandy. He had drunk quite a lot of wine during the meal too, and Helen eyed him warily.

  His tawny gaze levelled on her, cold and chilling, making her shiver apprehensively. ‘I’m not going to suddenly leap on you in a drunken haze,’ he drawled mockingly, stubbing
out a half-smoked cheroot.

  Her face paled. ‘That was cruel, Leon,’ she choked. ‘Cruel and insensitive.’

  ‘I feel bloody cruel!’ he snapped, lighting a fresh cheroot.

  Helen stood up. ‘This isn’t going to work, Leon. I—I’ll get my case and leave.’

  ‘Sit down!’

  ‘Wh-what did you say?’

  ‘I said sit down, damn you,’ he ordered harshly. ‘If you think I’m letting you leave now then you’re mistaken.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘You aren’t leaving, Helen. Before you remembered the swine you married you were doing just fine. I’ll make you forget him if it’s the last thing I do,’ he told her grimly. ‘You’re driving me quietly out of my mind, but I’ll make you forget him, I swear it.’

  ‘And what’s it going to do to you in the meantime?’ she asked gently.

  His eyes were shadowed, deep hollows in his cheeks. ‘It’s destroying me, that’s what it’s doing—but you’ve been doing that since the moment I first saw you. I knew then that you were going to be something important in my life. It wasn’t until I tried to kiss you that I realised exactly what I’d let myself in for. Maybe if I could have taken you to my bed at the start I may have been able to forget you, as I’ve forgotten every other woman I’ve ever wanted. Although I doubt it—you’re the sort that gets under the skin and refuses to be forgotten.’

  ‘But you tried,’ she reminded him.

  He frowned. ‘Does that bother you?’

  Helen regretted her jibe, it seeming to imply that she was jealous of these other women. ‘No,’ she denied instantly. ‘No, of course not.’

  He swung his legs down off the sofa, his eyes intent on her as he sat forward. ‘Are you sure?’ he probed.

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ Her hands twisted together. ‘Why should I care who you sleep with?’

  ‘What I did didn’t have much to do with sleeping,’ he derided.