After the Affair

by Miranda Lee

  AFTER THE AFFAIR

  Miranda Lee

  Cassie couldn't resist bidding

  The painting by Dan McKay, up for sale at a local auction, brought back memories--memories that stung.

  Cassie knew she should wipe away the past, but she also needed to possess small part of the man who had loved and then deserted her--changing the course of her life. So she was disappointed when a stranger outbid her.

  Blind panic filled her, however, when she realized the stranger was Dan. What could have brought him back? And how was she to keep him from discovering what he'd left behind him--after their affair?

  CHAPTER ONE

  'Sold! To the lady here in the front row.'

  Cassie glanced at the successful buyer sitting next to her, then watched dispiritedly as Lot Forty-Seven was carried away. She sighed. The lovely blue vase would have been a perfect wedding present for her mother and Roger, but seventeen hundred dollars was ridiculously expensive.

  'Lot Forty-Eight, ladies and gentlemen...a tea-service...a fine example of nineteenth-century silver...'

  Cassie wrinkled her nose and sat back. She didn't like silver. No doubt it was a rare antique, but it was not to her taste.

  The bidding started, again without her taking part. Really, the whole auction was proving to be a disappointment. When she'd heard that the river island of Strath-haven had been sold and selected items from the homestead were to be auctioned on site, Cassie had pictured a small affair, with every opportunity of picking up a bargain gift.

  Instead, collectors had descended on the property in droves, coming from as far afield as Sydney and Brisbane. Cassie had even noticed a helicopter landing in the grounds when she was arriving.

  The prices had been exorbitant, with Cassie growing more and more pessimistic. Her only consolation at the wasted afternoon was that she'd actually been able to visit this place without turning a hair. In nine long years she had avoided even looking at Strath-haven, which wasn't easy, since the island sat in the river directly opposite the Palmer farm.

  Admittedly, when she'd driven down to the river and crossed the footbridge that connected the mainland to the island, she had refrained from looking down to the far point and the small building nestling there. But that was only to be expected. She was not a masochist!

  The bidding continued, the auctioneer going through another twenty lots with amazing speed. Those Cassie could afford, she didn't like. Those she liked, she couldn't afford.

  A glance at her watch told her it was nearly four-thirty. Jason's Saturday afternoon cricket match would be over soon, and if Cassie wasn't home by five her son would badger his grandmother into walking over to the auction. Cassie knew that her mother would be tired after an afternoon keeping the score at cricket, and Cassie already felt guilty over how often her mother looked after Jason, despite the older woman's insistence that she enjoyed it.

  'Don't be silly, darling,' her mother had said more than once when Cassie had expressed her concern. 'You are my only child, Jason my only grandchild. I love being with him!'

  Nevertheless, Cassie made up her mind to leave the auction after the next few lots.

  'And finally, the paintings,' the auctioneer announced. He turned and indicated a selection leaning against the wall behind him. His assistant presented a rather small square-framed canvas, holding it up high before resting it on the table in front of Cassie.

  "The first one is Lot Seventy. An untitled, unsigned work by an unknown artist. Yet clearly a work of some merit. And an attractive local landscape, too. Now, ladies and gentlemen, what am I bid...?'

  Cassie stared.

  And stared.

  She could hardly believe it.

  Her heart began to thud.

  She recognised the distinctive use of the pale colours, the broad sweeps of the palette knife, the impressionistic style.

  Shocked eyes swept over the scene.

  Cassie's stomach churned as she realised that there was only one place where the artist could have set up his easel to paint this picture—where the river was on the left, the suspension bridge in the distance, and the impressive two-storeyed house in which she was now sitting on the right. She had seen that particular view herself many many times. From the far point of the island, on the riverbank, right next to the small studio.

  The studio...where Dan had come to stay and paint that fateful summer; where she had posed so innocently for a portrait; where their affair had begun...and ended.

  A wave of irony washed over Cassie. She thought of all the hours—the days—she had spent, wheeling Jason's pram through art galleries in Sydney, searching for one of Dan's paintings. It was a perverse desire...wanting to own one, wanting some tangible evidence of his existence. Her mind had kept telling her quite categorically that she should despise the man and never want to see him, or anything belonging to him, again.

  Still, she had gone on searching during the entire time it had taken her to complete her veterinary science degree—a foolish, obsessive quest. She had returned home to Riversbend empty-handed, yet this particular painting had been here all along, barely a mile from her home.

  'Two thousand... Last bid was yours, sir. Any advance on two thousand?'

  Cassie came back to the reality of the auction with a jolt. The painting was being sold! Her mouth opened of its own accord. 'Twenty-one hundred.'

  Eyes snapped her way. She had not bid before.

  Cassie's pulse started racing. She knew that she was doing a mad thing. She was supposed to be buying a present, not giving in to some ghastly sentimental indulgence. It wasn't as though she felt anything for the man any more. Her love for him was well and truly dead. She felt absolutely and positively nothing.

  Her heart pounded even faster. Somehow the knowledge that she was acting crazily made no difference. She could not seem to help herself. She wanted that painting!

  'Twenty-five!' snapped the man whom she had overbid.

  Cassie gritted her teeth. 'Twenty-six.'

  There was an electric silence. Cassie held her breath.

  'Twenty-seven,' the other bidder gruffed.

  Cassie breathed in deeply, trying to calm her growing tension. Should she bid twenty-eight, or leap to three thousand? Which would be the better tactic? Her chest felt as if a vice were squeezing it.

  "Three thousand,' she blurted out. And held her breath.

  'Thirty-five hundred.'

  Disappointment knifed through Cassie, and her chest sagged. She could not go on. She really couldn't. Three thousand had to be her limit.

  'It's against you, madam,' the auctioneer said.

  She could feel expectant eyes upon her. But she slowly shook her head, her eyes dropping to the floor. She could no longer bear to look at the painting.

  'Five thousand dollars!'

  A murmur swept through the crowd at the astonishing new bid. Cassie's head snapped round. She knew that voice! Her eyes clawed through the sea of faces. It couldn't be him. It couldn't...

  There was no reason why he should be here. No reason at all...

  And then she saw him, standing near one of the back windows, looking as devastating as ever.

  Dan McKay.

  His black eyes locked fiercely on to hers, and a stab of pure pain sliced through Cassie. She jerked her head round to face the front, shaken to the core of her being.

  'Going once, twice... Sold!'

  Cassie jumped when the gavel banged down. Then she sat. At first frozen, then suddenly trembling. If someone had asked her before this moment what was left of her feelings for Dan McKay she would have said nothing. Nothing! She would have sworn that he could not move a single emotion in her.

  But she had been wrong. Something dark and destructive, something unexpected and
shocking, had stirred inside her. It spun her head back to seek him out again.

  He was moving towards the front of the room, his gaze never leaving hers. But his eyes were guarded, making it impossible to tell what he was thinking. Cassie's mouth grew dry as she watched him approach. He was so handsome still, each line of his -strong, angular face and tall, lean body achingly familiar.

  Yet there were differences, Cassie conceded ruefully. The unruly black waves of nine years ago had been cut short and, while the well-groomed style complemented his dark suit and white shirt, he was a far cry from the informal, bejeaned Dan whom Cassie had once known. This man was smooth and suave and sophisticated, the epitome of city elegance.

  Dan was watching her as well, waiting perhaps for a visible reaction to his shock return. When she gave none, sitting silent and staring, he smiled, his straight black eyebrows lifting enquiringly.

  Again it sliced through her, sharper now and more definite, tightening her stomach, setting her teeth hard in her jaw. Hatred! Pure and utter hatred!

  The feeling was so shockingly intense that she must have projected it in her eyes, for the smile was instantly wiped from his face, his expression changing to one of puzzlement.

  A wave of fierce resentment swept through Cassie at his lack of sensitivity. Who did he think he was, coming back here, smiling at her as if everything had been forgiven and forgotten? Nothing was forgiven! Nothing was forgotten!

  No doubt his return had something to do with buying back his painting. Nothing else would have brought him back, she decided cynically. And no doubt he would be gone again at the end of the auction.

  Meanwhile...

  Cassie gritted her teeth and looked up. He was talking to the auctioneer's assistant, yet glancing impatiently her way. A jolt of sudden panic set her heart racing. Jason! Oh, God, she had forgotten about Jason!

  Her mind whirled. It was imperative that Dan didn't accidentally find out about the boy during his visit. Imperative! Instinct told Cassie that Dan was not a man who would ignore a son, even if the mother meant nothing to him any longer.

  Cassie knew that she had to get out of this room, away from him. To meet him and talk to him—however briefly—was a risk she wasn't prepared to take.

  She should have left without looking back. She should have just stood up and walked away. But something—female curiosity, perhaps—drew her to one final glance.

  It was a mistake. He was staring at her over the man's shoulder, and when their eyes met he held hers easily. They had always been her undoing. His eyes. They were like molten ebony, their deep-set, penetrating scrutiny searing its way into her soul, evoking long-buried memories from deep inside.

  She tried to look away, but could not.

  She was transfixed, hypnotised. Her heart began to pound and, as his gaze went deeper and deeper, Cassie's mind plunged her back...back...till she was lying on the rug on the studio floor, gazing passionately up at him. He was standing over her, proud and virile, his eyes devouring her, arousing her, teasing her, till she could bear it no longer. She held her arms out to him, and as he knelt down she reached out, gathering his naked body to hers with a sighing, tormented groan.

  Cassie jerked back to the present, a cold sweat breaking out on her forehead. She wrenched her eyes away from his and jumped up, clumsy in her haste, but intent only on one purpose. To flee.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Dan caught her on the veranda.

  'Cassie?' His hand closed over a wrist, spinning her to a halt.

  Terrified eyes lifted to him.

  'You're not leaving, are you?' He peered down at her with that inscrutable black gaze of his.

  Cassie tried desperately to pull herself together. You are twenty-nine years old, she reassured herself. You are a competent veterinary surgeon. You are an independent, clear-thinking woman. You are not a vulnerable, naive girl barely out of her teens.

  She dragged in a steadying breath and schooled her face into a bland smile. 'Hello, Dan,' she said. 'I thought it was you in there. It's been a long time. You're looking well. Sorry, but I can't stay and chat. I'm running late.'

  His hand remained closed around her wrist, effectively staying her. 'Then you didn't leave the auction because of me?' His eyes were searching hers, trying no doubt to gauge her reaction to him.

  The intensity of his expression unnerved and annoyed Cassie. Who did he think he was, giving her the third degree after running into her out of sheer coincidence? He couldn't possibly have known that she would attend this auction.

  Her laugh carried the right amount of dry disdain. 'Good heavens, no. Why should I do that?'

  He frowned. Clearly her attitude puzzled him. The reason why eluded Cassie. "Then could you spare me a few minutes?' he asked, still frowning. 'I won't keep you long.'

  She glanced at her watch, then up. 'Perhaps a minute, then.' Her voice held an impatient note.

  'So kind,' he muttered, and dropped her wrist.

  Cassie tried not to let her relief show. It was unbearable having him touch her. Unbearable!

  'You'll have to make it snappy, Dan. I really must be going.'

  His head tilted slightly to one side, eyes narrowing. His gaze flicked down over her body, clad casually in faded blue jeans and a pink cotton shirt. When he looked back up at her face, his expression thoughtful, Cassie found herself wishing she'd had time to change before coming to the auction. But she'd been running late after an emergency at the surgery, and had had only a minute to dash on some pink lipstick and flick a quick brush through her fine blonde hair.

  At that moment she wanted more than anything to be able to present an image as cool and sophisticated as Dan's. The feeling that she was at a physical disadvantage was as annoying as his close scrutiny.

  'You know, you've hardly changed,' he said slowly. 'You're still incredibly beautiful...still without artifice.'

  Her cheeks burnt with hot resentment. Her jaw clenched in anger. Trust him to resort to flattery. What a hide he had! And what a fool she was to let him still affect her, even if it was just irritation now. But two could play that game.

  'You're hardly the worse for wear, either,' she countered in an offhand tone.

  His mouth lifted in a dry smile. 'You flatter me. I'll be forty next year, and I feel every day of it.'

  Cassie was taken aback. She hadn't realised he was that old. Nine years ago he had looked as if he were in his middle twenties, no more. But it didn't change anything. In fact, it made his guilt even worse. He should have known better than to toy with a young girl's life.

  She waited for him to say something further, but he didn't. He had always been a man of few words.

  'What is it you want, then?' she snapped irritably.

  He drew back a step and flourished his hand in the direction of the front doors. 'If you will accompany me inside, I'll show you.'

  'What do you mean...inside? I'm not going back into the auction. I told you. I have to go.'

  'I know what you told me...' His determined glance indicated that he'd totally ignored all she had said. 'We'll go into the library. It's the first door on the right.'

  'We can't do that!'

  'Why not?'

  'The owner might not like it.'

  'He won't mind.'

  Her eyes grew wary. 'How do you know that? Do you know him?'

  'Very well.'

  Cassie tried to control her growing alarm. She'd heard that the new owner of Strath-haven was a wealthy businessman from Sydney, intent on using the island as a rural retreat, in much the same way as the van Aarks had done. If Dan was a friend of his, as he had been of the van Aarks, perhaps he would be staying here as a guest sometimes. Oh, God...

  'Stop frowning, Cassie,' he advised. 'It spoils your lovely forehead.'

  She threw him a scornful look. 'I'll come inside, but please...stop the flattery. Keep that for your current victims. It won't work on me any more.'

  He stiffened at her barb, but she gained no satisfaction from it. Str
ange, she puzzled, that she didn't enjoy hurting him. Surely he deserved it? Surely he deserved anything she could dish out?

  'Come along,' he ground out, taking her elbow in a firm grip.

  When she instinctively pulled back, he sighed and lessened the force of his hold. But he still urged her towards the front doors. Cassie went, not knowing what else to do. He wasn't going to take no for an answer, that was obvious. And she knew that she should find out what the situation was—if he was going to be around on a regular basis.

  A churning thought had come to her. Perhaps he worked for the new owner of Strath-haven. After all, artists rarely made enough to live on.

  Going with him proved to be a mistake. She had underestimated the physical effect he still had on her. His fingers felt like silken threads on the soft flesh of her inner arm, sending warm shivers through her veins, and when he stopped to open the library door the still reality of his closeness became particularly disturbing. All she had to do was turn and she would be in his arms. All she had to do was signal her willingness and he would sweep her into the room, shut the door and kiss her.

  She knew that this was so, for Dan McKay was that sort of man. The type who would take a woman quite ruthlessly—if she showed weakness—all the while pretending she was someone special, then discard her if and when it was expedient.

  'This won't take long, will it?' she asked sharply. and took a step backwards. She was worried that he might grow aware of her quickened heartbeat, her flush of sexual awareness.

  He pushed the door open, then glared down at her. Light from the room slanted brilliantly across his face and Cassie was shocked to see that he had aged, though he still didn't look anywhere near forty. A smattering of grey was hiding within the thick black waves and there were lines around his dark eyes.

  But neither detracted from his appeal. If anything, they added a dimension of rugged sophistication to his looks that he had perhaps lacked all those years ago. Or perhaps it appealed to her now because she herself was older.

  'If you'd stop backing away from me,' he said curtly, 'we'd be a damned sight quicker!'