Playing Safe

by Claudia Jameson

  Around eleven she telephoned Melissa and suggested it.

  'The sooner the better!' Melissa was relieved. 'I fear I've bitten off more than I can chew. How are you at making vol-au-vents and arranging flowers?'

  Demetrius was out. Grace was greeted with the news that he was in his office. 'I mean, in Bracknell,' Melissa said. 'Some emergency or something, I don't know anything about it.'

  'Oh, well. As long as he's back for tonight.' Grace looked around the kitchen, she saw instantly that Melissa had things well under way. 'You seem very organised, actually.'

  They worked, saying little, saying nothing about anything other than what they were doing. There was going to be everything, from champagne and caviar right through to a mind-boggling selection of sweet dishes. Only the ice-cream and gateaux had been bought, Melissa was preparing everything else herself and Grace couldn't help but admire her efforts.

  Phyllis Radcliffe, Sir Nigel and Thomas were just finishing tea when Grace got back to the manor. She had the last cup in the pot and sat chatting for a while, grateful to have the weight off her feet. A hot bath, a thorough shampooing of her hair and she would be recharged.

  The dress she planned on wearing for the party was new and, a couple of hours later, she looked at it on its hanger and had second thoughts. It was in a deep shade of red, made from a silky, slinky material, and there really wasn't much of it. It had a deep V back and front, narrow shoulder straps and a full, standard length skirt which swished around her legs when she walked. It was the neckline that was worrying her now.

  She tried it on to see how she looked now she was made-up, groomed to her usual high standard. Turning through all angles, she looked in the full-length mirror, dubious. While the neckline did more than hint at the swell of her breasts, it didn't actually show anything. Did it?

  In search of a second opinion, she went to her brother's room. 'Thomas? May I come in? How do I look?'

  He glanced up from the book he was reading. A textbook, typical reading matter for him—pre-party or not! 'Fine.'

  'Thomas! Will you kindly look at me? At this dress, more specifically.'

  He took his glasses off, surveyed her, put them back on again and nodded. 'It's gorgeous, Sis.'

  'Really? You don't think it shows too much?'

  'Too much what?'

  'Boobs, brother dear. Boobs!'

  'Oh. No. Honestly.'

  'You're sure?' She was thinking she should ask someone else. Mrs Radcliffe, perhaps? But Thomas reassured her, took her seriously and gave the matter careful consideration.

  'Now listen, Grace, you don't think I would give my seal of approval if you looked anything less than respectable, do you?'

  'No. Er—is that what you're wearing?'

  'What's wrong with it?' He was wearing brown cords, a mustard-coloured shirt and one of his jumpers. Grace called them his nineteen-forties jumpers; it was one of those sleeveless, patterned efforts with a shallow V-neck and ribbing.

  'Nothing,' she said, smiling. For him, it was right. Thomas didn't possess a suit, or even a regular pair of trousers. 'See you soon. We'll go at around eight, OK?'

  'You go when you like. I'll trundle along later, when things have got going a bit.'

  Grace retreated. What he meant was, when he'd finished reading. He would put in an appearance only for an hour or so, and then he'd vanish because he'd be bored.

  Sir Nigel and Phyllis didn't leave with Grace, either. They, too, said they'd go next door at around nine. Grace got there at a little after eight, and was surprised to see so many people there already. She slipped in the back way, glancing round the kitchen and the dining-room, where the buffet was laid out and looking splendid. She had made a very good job of the flower arrangements, even if she said it herself.

  'Grace!' Melissa appeared in the doorway. 'It looks all right, doesn't it?'

  'It looks super—and so do you.' Melissa was wearing one of her typically colourful outfits, multicoloured, in fact; harem pants and a top Grace hadn't seen before.

  People were mingling in the sitting-room, drinking, chatting in groups. There were about thirty of them already. Demetrius immediately detached himself from his group and came to Grace, taking her arm. His eyes moved very, very slowly over her, lighting up appreciatively. At her throat she wore the gold chain he had given her, which made him smile. 'Gorgeous! You look beautiful, Grace. Although I think you're being a little unfair…' His eyes were on her cleavage now, making her feel self-conscious all over again, yet inwardly she was amused. He really couldn't take his eyes off her.

  It wasn't easy for her to take her eyes off him, either. In a cream-coloured jacket, black trousers and a very fine polo-necked sweater, also black, he looked striking. The short, crisp curls of his hair, thick and coal black, were enough, quite apart from anything else, to make anyone look twice. 'Come on,' he said, 'let me introduce you to my friends and associates. I want to show you off.' He caught hold of her hand and tucked it through his arm. 'But first, let me get you a drink.'

  By ten o'clock Grace was on her third drink. She was sticking to Martini and lemonade, because she could handle that without going over the top. Others were less cautious. Nobody was drunk, but the volume of conversation was astonishingly loud and the sitting-room was packed. Altogether there had to be a hundred people present. Some were standing, some sitting, they were scattered in all the downstairs rooms except for Demetrius' office, which was locked, and several couples were dancing on the carpeted area by the swimming pool-Grace's father and Phyllis included.

  Demetrius was too busy to give his attention exclusively to Grace, he was pouring drinks and generally being a good host, talking to people, most of whom were, or had been, strangers to her. From time to time she glanced over to the corner of the sitting-room, where Melissa was deep in conversation with Thomas. Seeing them with their heads together surprised her; she couldn't imagine what the two of them had found to talk about. A less likely pairing off than Melissa and Thomas, she could not imagine.

  It was getting on for eleven when Rodney Featherstone turned up. Grace was taken aback. The first she knew of his presence was when a pair of arms slid around her waist from the back. She turned, smiling, fully expecting to see Demetrius.

  'Rodney! What are you doing here?'

  'A nice greeting, I must say!' He laughed. There was the smell of whisky on his breath and she assumed he had begun his evening at some other do. 'You make me sound like a gate-crasher.'

  But he was. He hadn't been invited, he hadn't even met Demetrius or his sister. Before anything else could be said, he spotted Thomas and Melissa, caught hold of Grace's hand and set off in their direction.

  'You made it, then?' Thomas got up, introducing him to Melissa, who looked him over with open interest. 'How do you do, Rodney?'

  There was no interest in Rodney's eyes, he was surveying Grace as closely as Demetrius had when she first arrived. His hand tightened around hers in a quick squeeze as he acknowledged Melissa with nothing more than politeness, extending his free hand. Grace felt him sway slightly. 'Nice to know you, Melissa. I hope you don't mind my dropping in?'

  'Of course not!' She smiled prettily, and Thomas looked at her quickly.

  'I invited Rodney,' he said. 'He's an old friend of mine. He's been out elsewhere this evening, but I asked him to drop in if he could.'

  'I'm delighted,' Melissa said warmly. 'Now, what will you have to drink, Rodney?'

  Grace had the feeling he'd had enough to drink already. 'Have you driven here?'

  'Got dropped off,' he said, in a voice which sounded normal enough. 'Don't worry, lovely, I shan't be driving home. Thomas suggested I stay over at your place if I made it here.' His hand slid to her waist just as she heard Demetrius' voice behind her. It was as cold as ice.

  'Perhaps you'll introduce me, Grace?'

  She turned, flushing, aware of his annoyance at what he could see—Rodney's hold on her was nothing short of proprietorial, and she resented it. She coul
d hardly pull away, though, he was an old friend and his feelings would be hurt.

  The following few minutes were awkward in the extreme as far as she was concerned. If Melissa were aware of her brother's annoyance, she didn't show it; she introduced the two men and said something about getting drinks.

  'I was just saying to your sister,' Rodney said amiably, unaware of any awkwardness, 'I hope you don't mind my dropping in. Old Thomas here— he said you wouldn't mind.'

  Demetrius made no response. He turned to his sister. 'Don't bother, Melissa. I'll see to the drinks.'

  'I'll give you a hand,' Grace said quickly. 'I need a refill, anyway.' She walked over to the bar in the living-room, a pace behind Demetrius, leaving the other three in the corner. 'I'm sorry about that,' she said hastily. 'I had no idea Rodney was coming, my brother invited him and he probably thought—'

  'He seems very fond of you.' Demetrius' eyes had darkened. 'What's the score?'

  'I'm—not sure what you mean.'

  'I mean,' he said slowly, 'I would like to know exactly what your relationship with him is.'

  'Rodney is an old friend—of mine and of Thomas. I've known him for years. We go out together from—' The words were said before she could think about them.

  'You what?'

  'Used to,' she put in quickly. 'We used to go out together from time to time.'

  'I thought you told me there was no man in your life?' His voice had an iron edge to it now.

  'There isn't.' She forced a laugh and put a hand on his arm. 'Rodney doesn't count, we're just friends. I've told you, he's—'

  Demetrius shook his arm free, his eyes black, glowering. 'Friends?' he demanded. 'Just friends? He was almost salivating at the sight of you! Whose benefit was that dress for, Grace? Mine or his?'

  Anger shot through her. She had told him she'd had no idea Rodney was coming and, worse, she didn't like the implications of his thinking the dress was for his benefit, either. If only he knew how she'd almost discarded it, how she'd nearly worn something else, and he was implying now that she'd worn it as a come-on. 'The dress is for my benefit, Demetrius. It happens to be my colour and it happens to be appropriate for a party.'

  He was by no means convinced. 'There's something you should know about me,' he said, his eyes riveted on hers. 'I don't like deceit, in women or in men. So I suggest you explain yourself. What do you mean when you say you and that character go out together?'

  It took the wind out of her sails; it was true she had never mentioned seeing Rodney but—but deceit was surely too strong a word. She strove for patience, people were looking at them. 'For heaven's sake, I'm deceiving no one. Rodney and I are old friends and we go out—used to go out— occasionally. And that's all there is to it.'

  'So when did you last see him? Have you been out with him recently?'

  She sighed. Faced with the direct question, she wasn't going to lie. She had done enough hedging, enough placating. She looked at Demetrius levelly. 'Yes, as a matter of fact. I had a date with him last Monday.'

  She shouldn't have told him that. It was the truth and it was innocent but she shouldn't have told him. He exploded. 'So it was him you went to the theatre with!'

  'Yes. I didn't—'

  'You said you'd gone with a friend,' he growled. 'And I assumed it was a friend of the female variety—which is what you supposed I would assume.'

  'Demetrius, will you please listen to me?' Grace lowered her voice in the hope that it would calm him down. It didn't, his eyes were flashing dangerously and, whether it went against the grain or not, she knew that the wisest course would be another attempt to placate him. 'There's no need for this. Rodney is a friend and that's all he is! I can easily handle the likes of him.'

  'Oh, really?' His eyes moved over her shoulder, narrowing as they found their target. 'He can't take his eyes off you, he's looking at you right now and I don't believe for one second that he regards you as nothing more than a friend! Make damned sure you keep away from him, do you hear me?'

  She could do no more than stare at him, unable to believe what she'd heard. She didn't even attempt a retort, she walked away from him and headed upstairs to the bathroom. If she didn't take time to calm down, she would explode.

  Keep away from him? From Rodney? For God's sake!

  Like hell she would!

  With a quick, unseeing look at herself in the mirror, she promptly went downstairs again. Demetrius was nowhere to be seen; maybe he had gone to cool off, too, he certainly needed it! She headed straight for the trio she had left only minutes earlier, and accepted instantly when Rodney asked her to dance. Let Demetrius make of this whatever he liked. If her relationship with him was to continue, he had to learn and learn now that he had gone too far this time.

  She walked to the pool room with Rodney and moved stiffly into his arms, not realising her emotions were showing all over her face. She didn't stop to think that Demetrius was unaware of her defiance, that he wasn't here to see her dancing with the forbidden male. This was a matter of principle; why shouldn't she dance with an old friend?

  'Good grief, lovely, loosen up a bit!' Rodney was laughing at her. 'And take that look off your face, anyone would think we were arch enemies!'

  'I'm sorry.' She tried to relax, to smile at him. 'I'm a bit uptight. I—was surprised to see you here.'

  He looked hurt, which in turn made her feel guilty. 'Did I do wrong in coming? Thomas said—'

  'No, no, of course not. It's just—'

  'It's just that you didn't invite me yourself.' He grinned at her. 'And why is that?'

  'I wasn't short of an escort, that's why. I—imagined I'd have to stick by Thomas. You know parties aren't his thing.'

  'Looks like little Melissa's entertaining him all right.' He moved in closer, holding her in a grip which was unnecessarily firm. Her breasts were pressing against his chest and she giggled, feeling her tension diminish slightly.

  'Mr Featherstone, I believe you're drunk! I thought it the moment I saw you. Kindly ease up, will you? Have a little consideration for the dress!'

  But Rodney wasn't laughing with her. His hand moved to the bare skin of her back and he lowered his head to brush a kiss against her cheek. 'God, Grace, you're such a turn-on!'

  'Grace.' Suddenly there was another hand on her, its fingers biting in to her arm. Demetrius stepped between her and her dancing partner, his feelings barely contained. If she had thought him angry before, it was nothing compared to this! 'I want to talk to you. Now. You'll excuse us.'

  He flung the last words at Rodney, steering Grace away from him, virtually marching her out of the room, oblivious to the curious looks they were getting. She was outraged, she felt like an errant child, but she was helpless to stop what he was doing. She thought her arm would snap in two as Demetrius steered her through the next room and into the hall. 'In here.' He opened the door of his office and pulled her roughly inside. He turned the key in the lock, removed it and dropped it in his jacket pocket.

  'What the hell do you think you're doing?' she demanded. 'Open that door at once!'

  He took hold of her with both hands this time, savagely, his grip causing her to gasp from the pain of it. In that same instant his mouth came down on hers with a punishing brutality she would never have thought him capable of. She fought for all she was worth, wrenching her head away. 'Dem—'

  'I'm going to teach you a lesson, Grace, one you won't forget in a hurry. All that was for my benefit, was it not? That display out there! But a lot of other people had the benefit of it, too, or didn't you think of that? No, come to think of it you probably didn't—you conveniently forgot what you said to me the other night, and behaved as if I'm no more to you than your next-door neighbour!' His fury was almost tangible, and seeing him like this was another discovery—one she could have lived without. And he hadn't finished yet. 'What is it with you?' he went on. 'Are you ashamed to be associated with me?'

  'Look, Demetrius—'

  'Stop hedging! Either you are
my woman or you're not.'

  Defiantly she lifted her head. 'I am my own woman.'

  He waved that away impatiently, his eyes raking hers. 'You know damn well what I mean. I just asked you a question.'

  'All right, all right! No, of course I'm not ashamed of you. That's a crazy thing to say.'

  'Is it? I'll bet my life you didn't tell Featherstone how it is with us. Well?'

  'I—' He was right. She had let Rodney believe that Thomas was her escort tonight. 'No, I—I didn't.'

  'Typical! What is it with you? Were you so scarred by the Raymond Ferris thing that you can't allow yourself to be seen enjoying another relationship? Not in front of family and friends, at any rate.'

  Anger flared again. 'That is utterly ridiculous!'

  'Oh, yes? I'll tell you what's ridiculous—you're terrified of any kind of commitment, even the mildest form of it.'

  'That just isn't true! You and I—we're friends, aren't we?'

  There was a sudden silence, a stillness that should have warned her of what was to come. Very quietly Demetrius said, 'Friends? All right, Grace, then let's see if you can handle me the way you tell me you can handle your other so-called friend.' Then his mouth was on hers again, and this time she couldn't pull her head away. He had pushed her against the wall, was pinning her there with his body.

  Under the onslaught of his mouth, the entire length of him pressed against her, her body betrayed her in spite of the circumstances. Cursing herself, her own excitement, she vowed she would not let him see it. When he finally raised his head, slackened his hold, she brought her right arm up with the speed of light and slapped him hard across the cheek. 'How dare you treat me like that? I've taken more than enough from you tonight!'

  He almost laughed at her, almost. It emerged as a short bark, and if she had hoped to shock him to his senses, she was sorely disillusioned. Her reaction had inflamed him, and he caught hold of both her hands, held them wide apart and flat against the wall. This time his body as well as his mouth ground against her, and within seconds she was made aware of his arousal.