Point of No Return

by Carole Mortimer

  ‘You made a damned fool out of me,’ he said angrily. ‘What does Meyers mean to you?’

  Megan looked startled. ‘He doesn’t mean anything to me. I hardly know the man.’ And what she did know she didn’t like!

  ‘That wasn’t the impression I got,’ Paul scowled.

  ‘He was a good dancer, Paul, that’s all.’

  ‘Dancing? That wasn’t dancing!’ he dismissed. ‘That was—’

  ‘All right,’ she cut in, ‘I know what it was. Maybe I got carried away by the music, but—’

  ‘Carried away!’ he muttered disgustedly. ‘It was obscene!’

  ‘Paul—’

  ‘I felt so damned stupid,’ he burst out angrily, the car now parked in front of Megan’s home. ‘You went there with me, but you acted as if you were with him!’

  ‘Please, Paul,’ she put her hand on his. ‘I’ve said I’m sorry. Would you like to come in for coffee?’

  ‘No—’

  ‘We’ll be alone,’ she enticed. ‘Mum’s away and Brian isn’t home yet.’

  ‘Well—okay,’ he relaxed slightly. ‘You’ve persuaded me.’ He gave a rueful smile.

  Several long minutes later Paul was feeling more amenable, his male pride back intact. They were sitting close together in one of the armchairs, Megan’s mouth completely bare of lipstick, her hair in tangled disorder.

  ‘Now I know you’re my girl,’ Paul sighed his satisfaction.

  ‘Did you ever doubt it?’ She snuggled against him, glad to be back on good terms with him.

  ‘For a while tonight I did.’ He bent to kiss her again. ‘Oh hell!’ he swore as a car drew up outside the house. ‘That will be Brian.’

  Megan looked at her wrist-watch and struggled to her feet. ‘He’s a bit early.’ She grimaced. ‘He’s probably come home to tell me off.’

  ‘Probably.’ Paul ran a hand through his tousled hair.

  She sighed, and went to open the door. Jerome Towers stood on the doorstep, tall and dark, and in a way, frightening. At once she was on the defensive. ‘Yes?’ she asked coldly, still raw from their last encounter.

  ‘I didn’t realise you were home, the house was in darkness.’ His gaze ran over her with slow appraisal, noting her lipstick-free mouth and untidy hair, Megan felt sure. ‘I just called to see how your mother was.’

  ‘She’s a lot better, thank you,’ she held the door halfway closed. ‘She’s away for the weekend.’

  ‘I see. In that case—’

  ‘Megan, is everything—Oh.’ Paul came to stand behind her, looking just as dishevelled as she did. ‘Good evening, Mr Towers,’ he greeted politely.

  Jerome Towers’ mouth tightened as he looked at the two of them. ‘Carter,’ he returned curtly. ‘I’m sorry I—interrupted you,’ he spoke to Megan.

  ‘I—Yes. I—I’ll tell my mother you called,’ she said awkwardly, well aware of the conclusions he had come to about this situation.

  ‘Fine.’ He nodded abruptly. ‘Goodnight.’

  They both echoed the word. Megan caught sight of the beautiful Stella as Jerome Towers opened his car door and the automatic light came on. She slowly closed the back door.

  Paul grimaced. ‘I can guess what he thought.’

  So could Megan—and she didn’t like it!

  CHAPTER FIVE

  MEGAN waited nervously in Jerome Towers’ study on Monday morning, dreading his arrival. She had no idea how he was going to treat her, although after the fiasco of Saturday evening she could take a good guess.

  Brian had been as furious with her as Paul had been, more so, and had given her a good talking to when he got home that evening. She had been suitably chastened all weekend, although Brian had very wisely not mentioned anything about it to their mother.

  Megan had seen Jerome Towers once more since Saturday, had received a distant nod from him as he and the beautiful Stella had driven past her in his Jaguar as she walked down to see Wendy. Stella had looked more beautiful than ever, and Megan had wondered if it could be due to a night of love in her lover’s arms.

  She started visibly as he came into the room, flushing almost guiltily as he gave her a cursory glance before seating himself behind the desk. He had a pile of letters in his hand, and he put these down on the desk in front of him.

  Suddenly he looked up. ‘I won’t ask if you had a nice weekend, the usual polite Monday morning greeting,’ he mocked. ‘From all accounts you had a pretty—hectic time.’

  Megan frowned. ‘I don’t—’

  ‘I think we’ll forget about the weekend,’ he interrupted tersely. ‘It’s best forgotten, wouldn’t you say?’

  ‘Yes.’ She couldn’t even meet his gaze.

  ‘Then we’ll forget about it,’ he said briskly. ‘Let’s deal with this mail first.’

  They worked steadily for the next hour, and Megan had a pile of letters to type replies to by the time all the envelopes had been opened. She hadn’t realised there was quite so much paperwork involved in the running of an estate this size, although Jerome seemed to have his finger firmly on the pulse.

  Finally he sat back, throwing some unwanted advertisements into the bin. ‘Now we have to deal with my social commitments,’ he sighed.

  Megan frowned her puzzlement. ‘Surely they aren’t anything to do with me?’ Remembering his beautiful mistress she thought his social life was strictly his own affair.

  ‘This one is,’ he picked up a letter that he had put aside earlier. ‘Apparently I’m supposed to give a party at Christmas for all the local children.’

  ‘Oh yes.’ She remembered attending them herself, remembered that no matter how hard up old Squire Towers had been he had always put the annual Christmas party on for the children. ‘You have to be Father Christmas,’ she told Jerome absently, back in the time of roast turkey, jelly and icecream.

  Jerome looked taken aback. ‘I beg your pardon?’

  Megan laughed, having relaxed with him in the last hour of working together. ‘Father Christmas,’ she grinned. ‘Old Squire Towers always played him himself.’

  He groaned. ‘I’ll have to do that?’

  ‘Well, it’s up to you, of course, but it is expected.’

  He grimaced. ‘Then I suppose I’ll have to do it. Could you go and get us some coffee while I get over the shock, and then you can tell me what else I’m supposed to do at this party.’

  ‘’Morning, love,’ Freda greeted her cheerfully. ‘Your mum’s up with Mrs Reece cleaning the bedrooms,’ and she carried on rolling out her pastry.

  ‘Actually I’ve come to make coffee for Mr Towers and myself,’ Megan told the cook, putting the necessary things on the tray.

  ‘How are you getting on?’ Freda asked interestedly.

  ‘Oh, fine.’ And strangely enough she was. Jerome seemed to have forgotten his anger with her, had forgotten it as he had suggested they forget her behaviour over the weekend. ‘Does Mr Towers take sugar in his coffee?’ She hesitated about adding the sugar-bowl, taking no sweetening herself.

  ‘No.’

  She didn’t think he would. It was just her luck to meet Roddy outside the study, a Roddy she now regarded with open hostility.

  ‘And how is my beautiful dancing partner this morning?’ he mocked.

  ‘I don’t know,’ she retorted. ‘How is she?’

  His look sharpened. ‘What do you mean?’

  Megan’s eyes were green shafts of accusation. ‘You know what I mean—Patsy Jones.’

  He looked unperturbed. ‘So you know about her and me.’

  ‘Yes!’ she snapped. ‘You should be ashamed of yourself. She’s a married woman, and you—’

  The door behind them swung open, and Megan almost cringed as she met Jerome Towers’ steely gaze. ‘I thought I heard the two of you out here,’ he said almost resignedly.

  ‘Just saying good morning,’ Roddy grinned at him.

  Jerome took the tray out of Megan’s trembling hands. ‘Well, go and do it somewhere more private.’

>   Stella came out of the study behind Jerome, dramatically beautiful in black fitted blouse and snug-fitting black trousers. ‘Ah, coffee,’ she gave a dazzling smile. ‘Lovely! Thank you, Miss—Rome, you haven’t introduced us.’ Her voice was low and sexy, her manner friendly and open.

  This woman called him Rome! Megan felt an emotion rip through her that she didn’t recognise. Then it was gone, and she felt only resentment that her cup of coffee had been claimed by the other woman.

  ‘This is Megan Finch, Stella,’ Jerome introduced curtly. ‘My new secretary. Megan, Stella Mitchell.’

  ‘Miss Mitchell,’ Megan acknowledged shortly.

  ‘Oh, please call me Stella,’ the other woman invited warmly. ‘I remember now, you were at the dance on Saturday.’

  ‘Yes.’ Megan studiously avoided looking at Jerome.

  ‘It was fun, wasn’t it?’ Stella Mitchell smiled.

  Megan searched the beautiful face for some sign of sarcasm, and found none. ‘I’m sure you’re used to more sophisticated entertainment,’ she said sharply.

  ‘Mm, I suppose London has more to offer in that direction.’ Stella put her arm through the crook of Jerome’s. ‘But Jerome is in Norfolk,’ she smiled happily up at her lover.

  ‘Shall we have our coffee before it gets cold?’ he suggested. ‘Could you bring some sugar in to us, Miss Finch? It seems to have been omitted from the tray.’

  ‘Oh, but you don’t—Miss Mitchell takes sugar,’ she realised dully.

  ‘I have a sweet tooth,’ the other woman admitted with a smile.

  ‘You don’t look as if you have,’ Megan muttered, hoping that by the time she reached thirty she too had such a fantastic figure. Not that there was much chance of that, hers wasn’t that good now.

  Stella gave a happy laugh. ‘I’m going to like you, Miss Finch.’

  ‘I’ll go and get the sugar,’ Megan mumbled.

  ‘I’ll wait for you in the lounge,’ Roddy told her.

  Her expression hardened as she looked at him. ‘Yes,’ she agreed tightly.

  Freda gave her a frowning look as she collected the discarded sugar-bowl. Megan just shrugged, hurrying back to the study.

  ‘Thank you, Miss Finch,’ Jerome said abruptly. ‘Be back in fifteen minutes,’ he added harshly.

  ‘Nice to have met you, Megan.’ Stella Mitchell sat on the arm of Jerome’s chair, her arm across his shoulders, her fingers entangled in the dark hair at his nape.

  Megan made a hasty escape from the sight of those rose-tinted nails caressing Jerome’s firm flesh, finding she didn’t like it at all.

  Why didn’t she like it? The answer didn’t bear thinking about. Was she falling in love with Jerome Towers? She couldn’t be, she just couldn’t be!

  ‘Megan!’

  She looked up, startled, to see Roddy watching her impatiently from the lounge doorway. ‘Sorry,’ she mentally shook herself, ‘I was miles away,’ she excused.

  His mouth twisted. ‘So I gathered. Come in here.’

  She went, shutting the door firmly behind her. ‘It has to stop, Roddy,’ she came straight to the point. ‘If Donald should find out …’

  ‘How did you find out?’

  ‘I saw you together on Saturday evening, outside the hall.’

  He sighed. ‘I warned her about talking to me alone. She wasn’t going to the dance to start with, and then when I got there I found her there with Donald.’

  ‘Why not? He is her husband.’

  Roddy raised his eyebrows. ‘Is he?’

  Megan frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

  He turned away. ‘Nothing. It isn’t important.’

  ‘But it is,’ she insisted. ‘What did you mean by that remark?’

  ‘It isn’t my problem, it’s Patsy’s. If you want to know about her marriage you’ll have to ask her. Personally, I don’t consider it any of your business, not unless you’re jealous?’ He gave her a searching look.

  ‘Jealous?’ she scorned. ‘I’m not jealous, I just don’t like being used to cover up this affair.’

  ‘And who’s using you?’ he asked calmly.

  ‘You are. I heard you, Roddy. And I won’t be used in that way. I won’t help you shield your affair with Patsy. You’ll have to find some other way to do it. A better idea would be to stop the affair, then you would have nothing to hide.’

  ‘If I stop seeing Patsy will you come out with me instead?’

  ‘No!’

  ‘Then things stay as they are.’

  ‘God, you sicken me. She’s a married woman!’ Her mouth tightened with determination. ‘If you don’t stop seeing her I’ll tell your brother,’ she threatened.

  He looked unperturbed. ‘And if you do that I’ll tell him how you were dismissed from the hospital.’

  ‘Because of you,’ Megan said bitterly. ‘Only because of you.’

  ‘Jerome would find that even more unpalatable. He fancies you, you know,’ Roddy told her harshly. ‘He gets as mad as hell whenever any other male goes near you.’

  Megan flushed. ‘Don’t be ridiculous! Your brother despises me, and most of that’s your fault too.’

  ‘You like him too!’ he accused. ‘Well, you’ve lost out there, Megan. I may not be averse to picking up his cast-offs, but he would never pick up mine.’

  Her face showed her disgust. ‘I’m not surprised!’ Her look was scathing.

  His face darkened angrily. ‘You think you’re such a clever little bitch, don’t you?’ he snarled. ‘Well, you’ll soon find that I make a much better friend than I do an enemy!’

  Megan couldn’t stop the shiver that ran down her spine. She had the feeling that Roddy Meyers could be a very dangerous person to anger—and there could be no doubt she had angered him. ‘You don’t scare me.’ she said bravely. ‘I just want this affair with Patsy Jones stopped.’

  ‘And I’ve told you it’s none of your damned business!’ he shouted back.

  The door swung open with a crash, and Jerome stood angrily in the doorway, his fierce gaze running over both of them. ‘What the hell is going on in here?’ He strode furiously into the room. ‘Your voices can be heard all over the house! Roddy,’ he pinpointed his brother with glacial eyes, ‘what’s going on?’

  ‘Just a slight disagreement,’ his brother muttered.

  Jerome sighed. ‘Miss Finch?’

  She blushed guiltily. ‘I—we—your brother—’

  ‘Just a lovers’ quarrel, Rome,’ Roddy cut in, moving to put his arm about Megan’s shoulders. ‘Calm down, darling,’ he said as she began to struggle, his fingers biting painfully into her flesh. ‘Megan’s upset because I paid Patsy Jones a little attention on Saturday evening,’ he explained.

  She gasped. ‘I—’

  Jerome’s gaze was scathing. ‘Patsy is a married woman, Miss Finch, and hardly a likely candidate for your jealousy. Now could we get back to work?’ he said sarcastically. ‘And you, Roddy, get lost. I’ve warned Miss Finch about the two of you getting together in my time, and now I’ll warn you—any more of this and you can go back to London.’

  ‘But my operation—’

  ‘Doesn’t seem to have hindered any of your—activities,’ Jerome drawled. ‘If you wouldn’t mind, Miss Finch?’ he added with exaggerated politeness, opening the door for her to leave.

  She could feel his disapproving gaze on the back of her neck as she walked ahead of him to the study, glad to see that Stella Mitchell was no longer there. Her humiliation would have been complete if the other woman had witnessed her chastisement. She stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, waiting for her employer’s reprimand.

  He sat at his desk, making a pyramid out of his fingers, studying them intently. ‘I hope there isn’t going to be a repetition of this every day,’ he looked up harshly.

  ‘But—’

  ‘Let me finish, Miss Finch,’ he snapped coldly. ‘I’ve warned you repeatedly about your behaviour with my brother. I will not have it, do you understand!’

 
‘But—’

  ‘Does Roddy know about Carter?’ he bit out.

  Megan looked bewildered. ‘Paul? But he—’

  ‘Does Carter know about Roddy?’ he didn’t allow her to finish.

  ‘No!’ she shuddered.

  ‘My God!’ Jerome stood up to angrily pace the room, stopping in front of her to look her critically up and down. ‘What is it about you? We’re like bees around a honeypot—’

  ‘We?’ she cut in dazedly.

  ‘Yes, we!’ He pulled her roughly towards him. ‘All the available men in the area seem to find you fascinating, including me. You must be good, very good,’ he murmured, his warm, caressing gaze fixed on her parted lips. ‘Maybe I should find out how good.’

  ‘Mr Towers!’ Megan was shocked, frightened too.

  ‘Rome,’ he invited softly, his head slowly lowering. ‘Call me Rome,’ his mouth finally claimed hers.

  As soon as his lips parted hers Megan knew she had been waiting for this, had craved his kisses ever since that first day when he had brought Bertha back to the farm, had wanted this fierce passion even then, although his gentleness at the time had moved her.

  Their desire for each other was like a vulcano erupting, Megan shuddering as she felt the strength of his thighs pressed against her. Those hands she had so admired now ran slowly from her hip to her breast, lingering there, releasing the top button of her blouse before he lowered his head to move his warm lips across her sensitive flesh.

  He undid another button to her blouse, and another, and another, until he could put his hands inside and cup her breasts. But even then he wasn’t satisfied, and one hand moved to her back to swiftly dispense with the single fastening to her bra:

  To Megan all this seemed to be happening in a dream. It was as if she stood outside herself, looking down at the two of them as Jerome leant back against the desk, pulling her close to him, his dark head lowering to capture the rosy tip of one creamy breast between his lips, nibbling gently on the throbbing flesh.

  But the feelings he aroused weren’t a dream, nor the pleasure that shot through every particle of her body, or the way her legs suddenly seemed to buckle beneath her, causing him to pull her even closer to his own body. God, she thought, if she died at this moment she wouldn’t care!