‘Your baby?’
‘Of course not! I’m not married.’
His brows rose. ‘I didn’t think that was compulsory nowadays.’
‘In my book it is,’ Callie told him waspishly. ‘The baby lives next door. And he’s going through agony.’
Poor Marilyn had been pacing the floor day and night with Paul the last few weeks, and it was starting to tell on her, dark circles appearing under her eyes. And Callie knew she didn’t look much better. The walls of the flat were not exactly soundproof, although not for anything would she let Marilyn and Bill know of her own disturbed nights.
‘I thought they had creams and things for that nowadays,’ Logan Carrington spoke now.
Her eyes widened. ‘They do. But I have to admit to being surprised that you know about things like that. Do you have children of your own?’
‘I’m not married,’ he gave her own answer.
Well, at least she wasn’t lightly flirting with a married man! ‘Neices and nephews, then?’
He shook his head. ‘I’m an only child. But I told you my secretary left to have a baby.’
‘And she told you about teething creams?’ It seemed a strange subject to discuss with one’s boss.
He grinned. ‘Only when I teased her about all the sleepless nights she was going to have.’
‘Typical male!’ Callie tried to sound annoyed, and knew she had failed miserably as Logan began to chuckle. ‘I’ll have you know your attitude is chauvinistic,’ she added crossly.
‘Yes.’
‘Do you have to sound so—so proud of it?’
‘Are you a Woman’s Libber?’
He made it sound like something insulting, and Callie wished she could have said yes. ‘No,’ she admitted grudgingly. ‘I admit to liking equal opportunities, but I like to be treated as a woman.’
‘Protected?’
‘I suppose so,’ she nodded.
‘You want it all ways,’ he drawled mockingly.
‘Yes!’ her eyes flashed.
‘As a man, I can tell you we like to protect. I also like a woman to have a mind of her own. We humans are a mass of contradictions, aren’t we?’
‘We’ve also discussed some very unusual subjects for two people that just met!’ Callie had suddenly realised the strangeness of the situation. She and Logan Carrington had only met fifteen minutes ago, and yet they had been talking, arguing, like old friends. He was a man she found it easy to talk to, and she was aware of talking to him as she and Jeff used to talk, lightly arguing, airing different points of view. After four months it felt good to be with someone she could be like this with.
‘Maybe we could discuss some more unusual subjects,’ Logan suggested huskily. ‘Maybe over dinner one night in the week?’
She was tempted—oh, how she was tempted! But she didn’t know this man, no matter how relaxed she felt with him. She knew nothing about him except that she liked talking to him, liked the challenge of their conversation.
‘I’d really like it, Callie,’ he prompted.
She stood up. ‘I should get back to the party.’
Logan stood up too, suddenly very serious, his expression intent. ‘Dinner, Callie. Please?’
He didn’t look as if it were a word that came easily to him. ‘Maybe you could call me…’
‘Give me your number,’ he nodded.
She watched while he wrote it down, the pen he used obviously gold. He looked as if he might be a wealthy man; he had an air about him that spoke of authority.
She gave him the number, not really expecting to hear from him again, sure that he wouldn’t even remember the meeting tomorrow, then watched as he moved across the outer room with lithe grace to join a tall willowy redhead, whispering something in the woman’s ear before they made their excuses and left. The woman had been beautiful, and their relationship was obviously intimate. No, Logan Carrington wouldn’t remember her tomorrow—but Callie knew she would remember him!
‘There you are!’ Donald pounced. ‘I’ve been looking for you.’
‘I think I’d like to leave now, Donald,’ she told him coolly.
‘That’s why I’ve been looking for you. It’s late, I have to work in the morning.’
What a husband he would make! ‘No, I can’t make love to you tonight, I have to go to work in the morning’! He didn’t know the meaning of the word spontaneity.
As she had known, he didn’t take the news that she didn’t want to see him again very well. But she didn’t tell him the real reason she had been stringing him on this last month—let the Spencers stew for a while! Bill was looking into Spencer Plastics for her, and by the time she attended the shareholder’s meeting next month she should have a fair idea of what was going on. She would knock down their marriage plans at the same time.
The telephone was ringing as she let herself into the flat, and she rushed to pick it up, the silence from the adjoining flat telling her that so far Marilyn was having an undisturbed night.
‘Yes?’ she hissed into the receiver.
‘Callie?’
She instantly recognised the voice. ‘Heavens, Logan, it’s almost one o’clock in the morning!’
‘Am I disturbing you?’ His voice had cooled.
‘I just told you, it’s almost one o’clock in the—’
‘I meant, are you alone?’
‘Of course I—Logan!’ She was indignant as she realised what he was implying.
‘Ssh, you’ll wake the neighbours,’ he chided mockingly.
‘I should think you’ve already done that,’ she snapped, although there was still no sound from next door.
‘You told me to call you—’
‘Yes. But I didn’t mean now, tonight—’
“‘Never put off until tomorrow what you can do—"’
“‘Today”,’ she finished the quote dryly. ‘What happened to your friend?’
‘Danielle?’
‘If that’s her name, yes.’
‘As far as I know she’s at home safely tucked up in bed,’ he taunted.
‘And why aren’t you with her?’
‘What makes you think I’m not?’
‘I—Are you?’ She blushed, even though he couldn’t see her reaction to his teasing.
‘No,’ he chuckled. ‘Believe me, she wouldn’t let me call another woman while I was in her bed! And what about your partner for the evening, where’s he?’
‘On his way home to be safely tucked up in bed, I should think,’ Callie answered mischievously.
‘And why isn’t he with you?’
‘Because I always sleep alone,’ she told him waspishly.
‘Always?’
‘Yes!’
‘But you don’t always eat alone?’
‘No…’
‘Dinner tomorrow, then?’
It was like being taken along in the path of a tidal wave, and Callie rebelled at this management of her life. ‘Not tomorrow,’ she refused. ‘I already have a date,’ she invented.
‘Break it.’
‘I most certainly will not!’
‘The neighbours, Callie,’ he once again taunted.
‘Damn the neighbours—’
‘Tut, tut, tut, you swear too.’
‘Too?’ she echoed sharply.
‘As well as talk to strange men at parties,’ he mocked.
‘As I remember it, that strange man spoke to me first!’
‘Touché,’ he chuckled. ‘How about dinner on Monday?’
‘I—’
‘Tuesday?’
I—’
‘Wednesday?’
‘I was about to say Monday would be fine,’ she put in quickly before he got to Thursday, deciding that Monday didn’t seem too eager. ‘Although your calendar seems to be very empty for such a—’ she broke off as she realised what she had been about to say. Logan Carrington needed no extra boosts to his ego from her!
‘Such a…?’ he prompted softly.
‘Such a con
ceited man,’ she snapped.
He chuckled. ‘Tell me your address, Callie, and I’ll let you get to bed.’
She told him, wondering if he rushed all his women like this. She was beginning to feel decidedly overwhelmed. So much for him forgetting all about her!
Marilyn and Bill spent the day at Bill’s mother’s the next day, so Callie didn’t get chance to discuss Logan Carrington with her friend. She didn’t quite know how to explain him to herself, she just knew she had been instantly attracted. And after Donald’s inane conversation for a month it would be nice to talk to someone who obviously read as much as she did, a man of high intelligence who amused and challenged her at the same time.
In some ways he reminded her of Jeff, and yet she knew it was a mistake to compare the two men. Jeff had been very special in her life, a man with a quick intelligence and biting wit, a man who would always have a special place in her heart.
* * *
She was late home on Monday night because she went to the shops after work to get herself a new dress for her dinner-date, suddenly deciding she didn’t have anything to wear. Her hair had been newly trimmed and washed at lunchtime, although she wasn’t sure why she was going to so much trouble for Logan Carrington. Maybe it was because of the impeccable appearance of the beautiful Danielle. Whatever the reason, the new black dress gave her a mature sophistication.
But she forgot all about the new dress when she got back to the flat, forgot about everything but Marilyn’s ashen face and Bill’s stricken one.
Bill came to the door as soon as he heard her put her key in the lock. ‘Could you come and talk to Marilyn?’ he requested agitatedly. ‘I have a couple of calls to make, and I’d rather she didn’t hear them. Just in case…’
Callie was at once concerned. ‘What’s happened? Paul…?’ she choked.
‘He’s fine,’ Bill reassured her. ‘But Marilyn’s father has had a stroke. It’s touch and go whether he’ll make it.’
‘Oh no!’
‘Afraid so,’ he sighed. ‘Her mother called a few minutes ago, but she was pretty incoherent. I want to call the hospital myself, maybe talk to the doctor.’
‘Of course.’ Callie left the box containing her new dress uncaringly inside her flat, and followed Bill. ‘Oh, Marilyn!’ She pulled the other girl into her arms, holding her comfortingly as she began to cry.
‘At least that’s an improvement,’ said Bill with obvious relief. ‘She’s just been sitting there since her mother called.’
‘Shock,’ Callie nodded.
‘I’ll be in the bedroom if you need me,’ he told her pointedly.
‘Oh, Callie, Callie!’ Marilyn sobbed. ‘He’s only fifty-three, that isn’t old.’
‘He isn’t going to die,’ Callie soothed. ‘Lots of people recover from strokes.’
‘But they happen in threes,’ her friend said hysterically. ‘First your mother, then Jeff, and now—’
‘He isn’t going to die, Marilyn,’ Callie repeated firmly, looking up as Bill came back into the room. ‘What news?’ she asked softly. Marilyn was crying quietly now.
‘The doctor said that if he can make it through the night he’ll probably be okay.’
‘Only probably?’ his wife choked.
‘He can’t make any promises, love.’ Bill sat down beside her. ‘No doctor could.’
‘I have to go to him. I have to be with him!’ She stood up, her movements agitated.
Callie touched Bill’s arm. ‘Go with her.’
‘Paul…?’
‘I’ll take care of Paul. Stay as long as you have to.’
A look of gratitude washed over his face. ‘I—I don’t know how to thank you.’
‘Just take care of Marilyn,’ she said huskily.
It wasn’t until she had fed and bathed Paul and put him to bed that she remembered her date with Logan Carrington. Well, she couldn’t go anywhere now; she didn’t know when she would be able to either.
But she couldn’t find Logan Carrington’s number in the telephone book, which meant he had an unlisted number. She couldn’t let him know their date was off. He was going to turn up here at eight o’clock, and she was going to have to turn him away!
CHAPTER THREE
EXACTLY at eight o’clock Callie heard her doorbell ring, and stopped her pacing to run out to the corridor.
Logan turned from pressing her doorbell a second time, frowning as he looked at the denims and jumper she had hurriedly changed into before giving Paul his bath, knowing from experience that she would end up soaking wet too. ‘I thought you lived at number twenty-eight,’ he said slowly.
‘I did—I mean, I do! Oh, Logan, I’m afraid our date is off for tonight!’ Goodness, no wonder she was stuttering, with him looking the way he did! He should be on a danger list for women, should have a sign on him warning women to beware of him.
He was wearing a burgundy-coloured velvet jacket, a snowy white shirt, and meticulously creased black trousers, his over-long hair brushed back from his face in a fashionably windswept style. He looked overwhelming—and perhaps it was as well that their date was off for this evening. Logan was looking lethal!
His eyes narrowed to grey slits. ‘Why?’
‘I have to look after Paul. You see, he—’
‘Invite me in, Callie,’ he interrupted mockingly, ‘and then you can tell me all about it.’
Before she was aware of what was happening Logan was in Marilyn and Bill’s flat and she was telling him all about Marilyn’s father and how she wasn’t even sure when they would be back.
‘Have you called the hospital?’ he asked when she had finished.
She nodded. ‘I spoke to Bill. He said there was no change.’
‘Well, it’s early yet,’ Logan dismissed. ‘Have you eaten?’
‘No, I haven’t had time. You see, Paul hadn’t been fed, and—’
‘Are you hungry?’ he interrupted with amusement.
‘Ravenous!’ she admitted ruefully, having missed lunch in favour of going to the hairdressers.
‘Then I don’t see why we shouldn’t have dinner—’
‘But I just told you—’
‘Here,’ he finished with a raise of his eyebrows. ‘Can you?’
‘No, I suppose not,’ she frowned. ‘I have some chops in my flat, and—’
‘My dear Callie, I wasn’t suggesting you cook for me. You sound as if you have your hands full already. I’ll send out for the food. We were going to Roberto’s, I don’t see any reason why he can’t bring it up here.’
Callie could! Roberto’s was one of the most fashionable restaurants in London, certainly not the sort of place that did take-out food! ‘I don’t mind cooking—’
‘I won’t hear of it,’ he refused firmly.
‘And I won’t hear of you sending to Roberto’s,’ she said stubbornly. ‘I’d rather have a Chinese.’
‘You would?’
‘Mm,’ she smiled at his surprise. ‘And there’s one just two doors down from the block of flats.’
‘How convenient,’ he drawled. ‘And I suppose I have to go down for it?’
‘If it wouldn’t be too much trouble,’ she said with saccharin sweetness.
Logan smiled. ‘Not at all.’ He stood up smoothly, and the flat at once looked smaller. ‘I happen to like Chinese food too.’
‘How nice!’
‘Callie…’
‘Mm?’ She looked up irritably.
‘Would you rather I left?’ he asked softly.
The evening and night stretched out in front of her like black emptiness, and she knew that being alone was the last thing she wanted. She hated everything to do with illness since her mother had died, and she was dreading Bill’s next telephone call, fearing the worst.
‘No,’ she admitted huskily.
‘I’m glad,’ Logan said throatily. ‘Walk me to the door?’
Considering it was only about five steps away it was a strange request, and yet as soon as she stood up it
didn’t seem strange any more. Logan was moving closer to her, not the door.
‘I’ve thought about you a lot the last couple of days,’ he told her softly, and one of his hands came up to cup her chin. ‘You’re more beautiful than I remember,’ he murmured before his lips claimed hers in a gentle, probing kiss, moving away as she responded to him.
Callie looked at him dazedly. How could he think she looked beautiful in denims and a thick blue jumper?
‘I won’t be long,’ he said briskly. ‘Do you have any preferences?’
‘Sweet and sour pork,’ she told him instantly
He laughed softly. ‘I like a woman who knows what she wants.’
‘You do?’
‘Yes,’ he touched her cheek gently. ‘I won’t be long.’
She knew he wouldn’t be either. She and Jeff had food from that restaurant often, and their service was very quick. She took advantage of Logan’s absence to hurry over to her flat, at least changing the jumper for a silky rust-coloured blouse, which at once made her feel less drab, adding a light make-up and lip-gloss too.
She only just managed to get back to the other flat before Logan returned, and his eyes widened appreciatively as he took in her changed appearance. Callie ignored that look, and took the bag from him to begin laying out the silver trays on the table, taking out the two plates she had put in the warmer.
Logan took off his jacket, and the white shirt stretched tautly across his wide shoulders and tapered waist.
Callie hastily averted her gaze from his powerful physique. ‘Here, let me,’ she held out her arms for the jacket. ‘I’ll hang it up.’
‘Thanks,’ he handed the jacket over.
His hand touched hers as she took the jacket, and Callie moved hastily away, blushing as she saw his frowning puzzlement.
They ate in silence; Logan had bought a bottle of wine to accompany their meal. Callie had to smile; she was sure this was the last way Logan had intended spending the evening.
‘Care to let me in on the joke?’
She looked up to find that Logan had finished his meal and was now relaxing back in his chair, watching her intently. She bit her lip. ‘It wasn’t really a joke,’ she said awkwardly.
‘Oh?’
She blushed. ‘I—I was just wondering when you last spent an evening like this.’
Love's Only Deception Page 4