by Anne Mather
It couldn’t be that difficult, could it? she asked herself. If she just kept her head, and behaved naturally with him, he was bound to get the message. She would serve him dinner, ask him about his trip, bring Julie’s name into the conversation as often as she dared, and then send him off to a hotel to spend the night.
Deciding she could hardly make herself a cup of coffee without offering him one, she schooled her features, and marched to the door of the living-room. ‘Would you like a cup of—–?’ she began, in a confident tone, and then broke off abruptly, at the sight that met her eyes.
Jake already had a drink in his hand. And it wasn’t her sherry either. A newly opened bottle of malt whisky resided on the table beside his chair, and Jake was in the process of lowering the glass from his lips.
‘Where did you get that?’
All Laura’s plans to keep their relationship cool and impersonal were banished by the accusing edge to her voice, and Jake arched a mocking brow. ‘I bought it,’ he said carelessly. ‘At the village store. Why are you looking so outraged? Did I need your permission?’
‘As a matter of fact, there’s whisky in the cupboard,’ declared Laura defensively, mentally imagining the gossip his shopping in the local stores must have generated. She could hear the stiffness in her voice, and endeavoured to redress her sense of balance. ‘I—I was surprised, that’s all. I was going to offer you some coffee.’
‘I’ll pass,’ said Jake smoothly, pouring another measure of whisky into his glass. ‘But you can join me, if you like,’ he added, looking up. ‘You look as if you need something to give you a bit of—life.’
Laura didn’t trust herself to speak. Suppressing the angry retort that sprang to her lips, she swung on her heel and left him. He would not make her lose her temper again, she told herself fiercely. He knew what he was doing. When she lost control, he had her at his mercy, and she was determined not to give him that satisfaction. Nevertheless, as she turned on the grill, and began seasoning the steak, she knew a helpless sense of frustration. Whether it was a deliberate ploy on his part or not, Jake was not going to be able to drive. If she wanted him to spend the night at a hotel, she would have to take him there herself.
In spite of her state of mind, the meal was not the disaster she had been afraid of. The food was surprisingly well-cooked, and Jake ate everything she put in front of him. Laura served the steak with asparagus, sweetcorn, and new potatoes, and then set out the lemon cheesecake, alongside crackers, cheese, and celery. She had made fresh coffee, too, and she was relieved to see that Jake drank two cups.
She hadn’t served any wine with the food, but Jake had carried his whisky glass to the table. However, she noticed he didn’t drink while he was eating, and the whisky bottle remained in the living-room.
It was a minor victory, vastly outweighed by their lack of communication with one another. Conversation was confined to comments about the food, and, even then, Laura had had to take the lead. The anger she had felt earlier had dissipated to a weary resignation. And still she wasn’t sure that the way she felt was Jake’s fault. He shouldn’t have come here, that was true, but she was to blame for how things had developed.
Laura had done most of the washing-up before the meal, so that afterwards there were only the plates to deal with. But, although Jake helped her to clear the table, he didn’t offer to dry the dishes, as he had done the week before. And, when Laura had spent as long as she dared in the kitchen and went into the living-room, he was seated in his chair again, with the whisky glass in his hand.
‘Um—shall I light the fire?’ she asked, striving for normality. Although she hadn’t lighted it that morning, she had raked the grate, and laid it ready. It would be a simple matter to set a match to the paper, and the room seemed bare without its comforting glow.
Or perhaps it was just her mood, she thought gloomily, and the fact that it was getting dark already. She had anticipated this evening with a certain amount of excitement, and now it had all gone wrong. She realised she had probably been deluding herself by imagining she and Jake could have a normal relationship. In effect, she was only compounding her guilt by letting him remain.
‘Light it, if you want,’ Jake replied now, and, although she would have preferred to seek the security of her armchair, Laura picked up the matches, and complied.
It was quickly done, the flames licking swiftly up over the dry kindling. It reduced the time she had to crouch before him, and after replacing the matches on the mantel she went and sat down.
Silence could be deafening, she discovered. It stretched between them like a yawning void, and although there were things she had to say, she found it very hard to begin.
But, at last, with the crackling wood providing at least some support, she asked, ‘How does the—er—injury feel this evening? I assume it’s much better.’
Jake rested his head back against the striped fabric of the cushions. Reclining in her chair like that, with his long legs stretched across the hearth, and his body relaxed and dormant, he looked very much at his ease. But his eyes were far from quiescent, and when he looked at her she flinched beneath the contempt in his gaze.
‘Do you really care?’ he countered, and the hand hanging loosely over the chair arm moved in a dismissing gesture.
‘Of course I care,’ said Laura, keeping her voice neutral with an effort. ‘I did do my best to attend to it. At least you don’t appear to be bleeding any more.’
Jake’s mouth compressed. ‘No,’ he said. ‘Not visibly anyway.’ And then, more evenly, ‘No, I’m sorry. You were most—helpful; most kind. I do appreciate it, even if I haven’t acknowledged it.’
Laura swallowed. ‘Well—that’s good,’ she murmured, not prepared to debate what he might mean by the latter half of his statement. ‘I still think you should see your own doctor, when you get back to London. Cuts can become infected, and there are injections you can have to avoid problems of that kind.’
‘I know.’ Jake inclined his head. ‘Thank you for your advice.’
Laura sighed. She was fairly sure he wouldn’t take it, but there was nothing more she could do. She wondered if she ought to offer to change the dressing, but she recoiled from that idea. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t touch him again, knowing, as she did, how his skin felt beneath her trembling hands. She might tell herself he disgusted her; that what he had done earlier this evening had demeaned and humiliated her, and that any woman in her right mind would have thrown him out there and then. But to actually consider removing the bandage from his midriff, to imagine cleaning his wound and re-applying the gauze dressing, made a mockery of her indignation. It wasn’t revulsion that kept her from doing her Christian duty. It was the certain knowledge that she couldn’t trust herself.
There was silence again, for a while, and then, compelled to dispel her treacherous thoughts, Laura said, ‘Will you be going back to London tomorrow?’
It was an innocent question, she told herself, when Jake looked at her again, with those dark, mocking eyes. Hooded eyes, in a face that, she admitted, unwillingly, had a rough male beauty. He had no right to look at her like that, she thought resentfully. He was the interloper here. Not her.
‘Perhaps,’ he answered, at last. ‘It depends.’
‘On the reason you came north, I suppose,’ said Laura sociably, hoping she was now going to find out the real reason why he was here. If she could just keep their conversation on this level, she might stop feeling so on edge.
‘As you say,’ Jake conceded, pouring himself more whisky. He lifted his glass. ‘Are you sure you won’t join me?’
Laura shook her head. In fact, she would have welcomed the warming influence the alcohol would have given her, but she had to keep her head clear for driving. The nearest decent hotel was about eight miles away. And on narrow roads, she would need all her skill
‘I—Julie said your family was in manufacturing, is that right?’ she asked politely. ‘I suppose you have contacts all over England.
’
‘If you’re implying I came north to conclude some business deal, you couldn’t be more wrong,’ Jake declared, shifting so that one booted foot came to rest across his knee. ‘I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I have no business contacts in this area.’
Laura took a breath. ‘You don’t?’
It was all she could think of to say, and Jake shook his head. ‘No,’ he agreed, resting the hand holding his glass across his raised ankle. ‘My family’s interests are primarily in motor manufacturing, and wine. But, as far as I am aware, neither the Italian car industry, nor its subsidiaries, have made any great inroads in northern England. As for wine…’ He shrugged. ‘We are not involved in distribution.’
Laura swallowed. ‘I see.’
‘Do you? I wonder?’ Jake’s mouth flattened. ‘Why don’t you ask what I’m doing here? That is what you want to know, isn’t it?’
Laura avoided his dark gaze, and looked at the flames leaping up the chimney. ‘Your affairs are nothing to do with me,’ she retorted, wondering if she had been wise to light the fire after all. The room seemed so hot suddenly, and she ran a nervous hand around the cowled neckline of her dress.
‘You’re wrong, you know,’ Jake said softly, and it took the utmost effort for Laura to remain where she was. Her instincts were telling her to get out of there now, while she still had the chance to avoid a confrontation. Whatever he had to say, she didn’t want to hear it.
‘You said you’d been fencing,’ she said, hurriedly, pressing her palms down on to her knees. ‘How—how interesting! Are you a—a professional?’
‘Hardly.’ Jake’s voice was harsh. ‘For your information, I do my fencing in London. At a private club.’ He paused, and she saw his fingers clench around his glass. ‘And usually, I am quite proficient—though not, I might add, of a professional standard. However, on Friday evening, I was—how can I say it politely?—cheesed on?’
‘Off,’ put in Laura automatically, and then flushed. ‘Cheesed off,’ she added in a low voice, wishing she hadn’t said anything, when he gave her a savage look.
‘Very well,’ he amended, ‘I was—cheesed off, as you say.’ But she was left in no doubt that he would have preferred to use a stronger term. ‘It had not been a good week for me, no? I needed—a diversion.’
‘So you tried to get yourself killed! You must have been mad!’
‘If that is your interpretation of my actions, then so be it,’ he declared bleakly, and Laura’s intentions to remain impersonal shattered.
‘Well, what else can I think?’ she demanded, steeling herself to meet his disparaging stare. ‘Sensible people don’t play with weapons, when they’ve only got half their mind on the job. If you wanted a diversion, why didn’t you go and see your daughter? I’m sure she’d have been delighted to see you.’
‘More than you, no?’ he suggested drily, and Laura’s throat constricted.
‘I don’t come into this—–’ she began, but now Jake’s temper got the better of him.
‘No,’ he said, putting his glass on the table, lowering his foot to the floor, and leaning towards her, his arms along his thighs. ‘Not even you are that stupid!’
His jaw compressed, and although Laura wanted to protest, his expression kept her silent.
‘You know exactly why I came here,’ he went on grimly, ‘and it has nothing to do with your daughter, or mine, or any of the other irrelevancies you keep throwing in my face. All right. Perhaps it was a little crazy to tempt fate as I did. When I went to the club, I wanted to do something dangerous. Perhaps I hoped I’d be hurt, I don’t know. I was not—how would you say it?—in my mind?’
‘In your right mind,’ corrected Laura, barely aware of what she was saying, but her interruption only angered him even more.
‘Dio,’ he swore, ‘will you stop acting like a schoolmistress? I came here because I needed to see you again. Ever since last weekend, I have thought of little else. Does that answer your question? Or would you like me to draw you a picture?’
Laura took a steadying breath. ‘I—don’t—believe—you—–’
‘Why not?’
She shook her head, her eyes a little wild. ‘It doesn’t make sense.’
Jake’s lips twisted. ‘Unfortunately, it does.’
‘But, Julie—–’
‘Forget about Julie. This has nothing to do with Julie. This is about—us!’
‘Us?’ Laura got up from her chair then, unable to sit still any longer, and caught her breath when he did the same. ‘I—there is no us, Mr Lombardi. I’m afraid if you thought there was, you’ve had a wasted journey.’
‘I don’t think so.’
Jake made no move to touch her, but she was intensely aware of him, and of the fact that he was standing directly in her path. Oh, she could get past him, if she set her mind to it, she was sure. Apart from anything else, he was probably still suffering the after-effects of losing so much blood, and a jab to his ribs would probably be most effective.
But, the truth was, she knew she would never hurt him, not deliberately at least. And while she would have preferred for them not to have had this conversation, it was probably just as well to clear the air.
‘Look,’ she said, endeavouring to keep her voice cool and even, ‘I don’t deny that you’re an attractive man. Any woman would think so, and—and I’m happy for Julie, truly. Really, she thinks you’re wonderful, as I’m sure you know, and—–’
‘Will you stop this?’
Jake moved, and, although she would have backed away, the chair was right behind her. His hands descended on her shoulders, his hard fingers moulding the narrow bones he could feel beneath the fine wool. At the same time, his thumbs brushed the underside of her chin, forcing her to lift her face to his.
‘Listen to me,’ he said, and although Laura jerked her head aside she couldn’t dislodge his fingers. ‘Why don’t you stop throwing me at your daughter, and accept what I’m trying to tell you? For God’s sake, if we must speak about Julie, let’s at least be honest. We both knew what she sees in me, and it isn’t just the colour of my eyes.’
‘I know.’ Laura held up her head. ‘She thinks you’re—good-looking—and intelligent—and sexy—–’
‘And rich,’ said Jake flatly, bending his head to touch her earlobe with his tongue. ‘Let’s not forget rich!’
Laura shuddered, her whole world turning upside-down. ‘Is that important?’ she choked, as he bit the tiny gold circlet she wore through her ear, and Jake shrugged.
‘It is to Julie,’ he said, his accent thickening as his mouth brushed the nerve that fluttered in her throat. ‘I wasn’t sure before. But after last weekend—–’
‘You decided I was the easier option, is that it?’ Laura demanded raggedly. ‘Why not try the mother? She’s too old to offer much resistance. Besides, she’s probably so desperate to have a man—–’
Jake’s hands around her throat silenced her. ‘Will you shut up?’ he muttered angrily. ‘It wasn’t like that! It isn’t like that!’
Laura swallowed. ‘But, you can’t deny it crossed your mind—–’
‘It did not cross my mind.’ Jake stared down at her savagely. ‘Hear what I have to say, will you? I told you this had been a bad week for me, but not why.’
‘I don’t want to know why!’ exclaimed Laura, aware that the longer he held her, the harder it was to keep her head. She was trembling, her whole body quivering with emotions she couldn’t even identify, and, hateful as it might be, she was succumbing to those feelings.
‘I’m sorry about that,’ Jake said now, but he didn’t sound sorry. When he braced himself to resist the hands she lifted to push him away, there was no compassion in his gaze. Instead, his hands slid from her neck, down to the small of her back, curving over her hips, and propelling her against him.
Laura almost panicked. Her nose was pressed against the dark silk of his shirt, and, whether she wanted to or not, she couldn’t escape the raw male scent of him.
He must have taken a shower, she thought unsteadily, because his skin smelt so fresh and clean, overlaid with just the faintest trace of antiseptic, a reminder of the dressing she had applied that morning.
But even that prosaic awareness didn’t detract from the overall awareness she had of him, of his warmth, and his nearness, and the lean muscled strength of his body.
‘What happened is, I spent the whole week trying to get you out of my mind,’ he told her huskily, his breath fanning her heated forehead. ‘I didn’t want this to happen. So far, my life has gone the way I want it. Oh, when Isabella died, I was distraught, for a while, but although we were—how would you say?—compatible with one another, there was no great passion in our relationship. Our greatest achievement was in having Luci, and I do not deny that I love my daughter very deeply. But this—–’ he brushed her cheek with his finger ‘—this is something else. Something I have never experienced before. And, whatever you think of me, I do not usually want what I cannot have.’
‘Well—well, you can’t have me!’ Laura’s voice wobbled, but the words had to be said. ‘Even—even if you weren’t involved with—with my daughter—it just—wouldn’t work.’
‘Why not?’ His lips brushed her ear, and she was unsteadily aware that if this continued, he would prove her a liar.
‘Because—because it wouldn’t,’ she replied, not very convincingly. And then, on a sob, ‘Oh, please—let me go! What do I have to do to prove to you that I’m not—not interested?’
His response was unexpected. Without another word, his hands fell to his sides, and he stepped back from her. He didn’t say anything, however, and, although Laura told herself that this was what she had wanted, she felt unaccountably bereft.
‘I—thank you,’ she said, striving for sarcasm, without much success, and put a nervous hand to her hair. Several silky strands had come loose from the coil at her nape, and she busied herself, tucking them into place again, as she struggled to regain her composure. ‘I—think you’d better go now.’
Jake studied her without comment, his dark gaze lingering on the parted contours of her mouth. She pressed her lips together then, to hide their revealing tremor, but his eyes drifted down to the equally revealing tautness of her breasts. She wanted to cross her arms, and hide their blatant betrayal from him, but she rigorously restrained herself. To do so would reveal she was aware of his appraisal, and he should not have the satisfaction of knowing how much he disturbed her.