Kitabı oku: «Passion & Pleasure», sayfa 3

Chapter Three

DIANE was pacing about the kitchen when Matt came back inside. ‘D’you want to tell me what’s going on?’ she demanded, her grey eyes flaring with irritation. ‘How long have you and Fliss Taylor known one another?’

Matt gave her an incredulous look. ‘We don’t know one another,’ he said, going to wash his hands at the sink. ‘How the hell would we? I’ve only been here a couple of days.’

‘You tell me.’ Diane was huffy. ‘You seemed pretty familiar with one another. And she obviously didn’t expect to see me. Didn’t you tell her I was coming down this morning?’

‘Oh, for pity’s sake!’ Matt dried his hands and then shoved them into his pockets so she wouldn’t see they were shaking. ‘Why would I tell her anything? I’ve only met her once before.’

Diane regarded him suspiciously. ‘So what was that rabbit doing here?’

Matt heaved a sigh. He badly wanted to sit down, but dogged determination—and pride—kept him on his feet. He should have known Diane would come here looking for trouble, but however appealing Fliss Taylor might be—and he couldn’t deny she was appealing—he wasn’t interested.

‘She has a kid,’ he said wearily. ‘But then, you probably know that. You’re the one who seems to know everything about her.’

‘I used to,’ declared Diane dismissively. ‘Personally, I haven’t set eyes on her or her kid for years.’

‘OK.’ Matt endeavoured to control his irritation. ‘Well, for some reason, the kid decided her rabbit would be safer in my garden than hers. She’d stowed its cage near the back door and I caught her feeding it this morning. That’s all there is to it.’

‘So—then what? You phoned her mother and asked her to come and get it?’

‘No.’ Matt was tired of this interrogation. He didn’t know why Diane had bothered to come if all she intended to do was pick an argument with him. Surely she knew he was supposed to avoid any unnecessary stress, and getting riled up about something so trivial was definitely unnecessary. He blew out a breath. ‘She came here looking for her daughter. No law against that, is there?’

Diane’s lips tightened. ‘I suppose not.’

‘Good. I’m glad we agree on something, at any rate.’ Matt turned away. ‘Want some coffee?’

‘So why didn’t they just take the rabbit with them?’ she asked after a moment, and Matt swore.

‘For pity’s sake,’ he snapped. ‘Does it matter? I’ve explained what happened. Let that be an end of it.’

Diane hesitated. ‘I—suppose it would have been difficult to move the thing without a car.’

‘Right.’

Diane nodded. ‘And Fliss didn’t know the kid had left the rabbit here?’

‘Diane…’

Matt’s tone warned her not to proceed, but she spread her hands defensively. ‘I just want to know,’ she said innocently. ‘I suppose Amy still regards this place as her second home.’

Matt swung round then, a frown drawing his brows together. ‘What are you talking about?’

Diane looked smug now. ‘I thought you were sick of talking about it,’ she mocked, and then, realising she was pushing her luck, she gave in. ‘Fliss used to work for the old man who owned this place,’ she explained. ‘I’ve heard she used to bring the kid with her.’

‘What work did she do?’

‘What do drop-outs usually do?’ asked Diane contemptuously. ‘She was his housekeeper, of course. When she wasn’t working in the pub, that is.’

Matt poured coffee into two mugs and handed one to her. ‘For someone who claims not to have seen the woman for God knows how long, you seem to know a lot about her,’ he said, sinking gratefully onto one of the two stools he’d brought down from London. He swallowed a mouthful of coffee, feeling the reassuring kick of caffeine invading his system. ‘Are you a snob, Diane?’

‘No!’ She was indignant. ‘But I can’t help it if I think she was a fool to throw away a decent education to be a single mother.’

Matt arched a dark brow. ‘Is that what she did?’

‘Yes.’ Diane scowled. ‘I mean, she was sixteen, for God’s sake. She must have been crazy.’

‘Obviously she didn’t think so.’

Diane shrugged. ‘More fool her.’ She shook her head. ‘It was the talk of the village.’

‘I bet.’

‘Well, it was so stupid. She could have had an abortion. No one need have known anything about it. It wasn’t as if the boy wanted to marry her. Mummy thinks her mother never really got over it.’

‘Ah.’ Matt was beginning to understand. ‘So you get your information from your mother.’

Diane looked offended. ‘There’s no need to take that attitude. Mummy thought I’d be interested. After all, Fliss and I used to be friends.’ She grimaced. ‘To think, I used to be like her!’

Matt was not prepared to get into that one. Instead, he concentrated on his coffee, knowing that sooner or later Diane would remember what they’d been talking about before the other woman had knocked at the door.

And he didn’t have to wait long.

‘Anyway,’ she said, ‘that doesn’t matter now. You were telling me what you intend to do with this place. I mean, look around you, darling. It’s going to take a fortune to make it anything like habitable.’

‘A small fortune, perhaps,’ he allowed, with a wry smile. ‘And I don’t intend to do it all at once. Just the main bedroom and a couple of reception rooms. Most of the changes are cosmetic, anyway. According to Joe Francis, the building’s sound enough.’

‘But what does it matter?’ protested Diane, setting down her mug with hardly controlled frustration. ‘Matt, you’re not going to stay here. You may kid yourself that this is what you want, but that’s just a passing phase. As soon as you’re feeling yourself again, you’ll realise that you can’t live anywhere but London. Your job’s there; your friends are there. You don’t know anyone in Mallon’s End. Except Mummy and Daddy, of course, and you don’t really care for them. Admit it.’

‘I know Mrs—Miss Taylor,’ remarked Matt, knowing it would annoy her. But dammit, she was annoying him right now. ‘And you don’t know what I want, Diane. What you’re talking about is what you want. How do you know my priorities haven’t changed?’

‘Because I do know you!’ she exclaimed fiercely. ‘You’ll soon get bored doing nothing. Even if you don’t need the money.’

Matt shrugged. ‘We’ll see.’

‘Oh!’ Diane’s exclamation was impatient. ‘All right, what about me? Have you thought about me at all? I can’t live here. My job’s in London.’

‘I know that.’

‘And?’

Matt bent his head, rubbing palms that were suddenly slick with sweat over the knees of his pants. ‘And—I think it would be a good idea if we cooled it for a while—’

‘No!’

‘Yes.’ Matt knew he was being harsh but he really didn’t have a choice. Not in the circumstances. ‘Help me on this, Diane. I need some time on my own; time to get my head straight.’ He paused, considering his words. ‘Pretending things are the way they used to be isn’t going to do it.’

‘It could.’ Diane quickly crossed the room to kneel at his feet. ‘Darling, don’t do this to me. To us. We’re so good together.’

We were, thought Matt flatly, making no attempt to touch her. ‘Diane—’

‘No, listen to me.’ She looked up at him appealingly, her heart-shaped face alight with enthusiasm, grey eyes entreating now, eager to persuade him she was right. ‘I can help you, darling. You know I can. But not if you send me away.’

‘Dammit, I’m not sending you away,’ he muttered grimly, but she wasn’t listening to him.

Moving his hands aside, she replaced them with her own. For a moment, she was still. And then, watching him with an almost avid concentration, she slid her hands along his thighs to the apex of his legs. Her intention was clear. When she licked her lips, he could see her anticipation. Then, she spread his legs and came between them…

Matt couldn’t let her go on. With a surge of revulsion, he thrust her aside and sprang to his feet. Somehow he managed to put the width of the room between them, his pulse racing, his heart hammering wildly in his chest. But it wasn’t a good feeling. He felt sick, and sickened, by what she’d tried to do, and he could hardly bear to look at her now.

‘Well…’ Diane got to her feet, bitterness and disappointment etched sharply on her flushed face. ‘You had only to say no, Matt. There was no need to practically knock me over in your eagerness to get away from me.’

Matt groaned. ‘Diane, please—’

‘At least I know where I stand,’ she went on, patting down her skirt, brushing a thread of cotton from the silk jersey. ‘What happened in Abuqara, Matt? Did you suddenly acquire a taste for different flesh from mine? Or was it something even more extreme? A change of sex, perhaps?’

Matt’s hands balled into fists at his sides. ‘I think you’d better go, Diane,’ he said harshly. ‘Before I forget I was brought up to be a gentleman.’

She stared at him for a moment, and then her face crumpled, the coldness in her expression giving way to a woeful defeat. ‘Oh, Matt,’ she breathed, scrubbing at the tears that were now pouring down her cheeks, ‘you know I didn’t mean that. I love you. I’d never do anything—say anything to hurt you.’

Matt felt weariness envelop him. It was all too much. Diane was too much. She had no idea how he was feeling and he didn’t have the urge—or the patience—to deal with her histrionics.

That was why he’d bought this house in the first place. He’d known Diane would not be able to accompany him and he’d persuaded himself that she’d come to see it was the best solution for both of them. He still cared about her, of course he did. But she had to understand that his attitude had changed, his aspirations had changed. He was not the man he used to be.

God help him!

‘Look,’ he said at last, crossing his arms against any attempt she might make to touch him again, ‘I know this has been hard for you, Diane. It’s been hard for both of us. And I don’t expect you to give up your life in London and move down here.’

Diane sniffed. ‘So what? You’re giving me the brush-off.’

‘No.’ Matt gave an inward groan. ‘I’m not saying I never want to see you again—’

‘Is that supposed to reassure me?’ Diane pushed back her silvery cap of hair with a restless hand. ‘Matt, I thought you loved me; I thought that one day we might—well, you know, make it legal.’

‘And I’m not saying we won’t. One day,’ said Matt steadily. ‘Come on, Diane, you know I’m right. It’s just not working right now.’

Diane regarded him from beneath her lashes. ‘And that’s all it is? This—need you have for some time alone, for some space?’

‘I swear it.’ Matt spread his hands. ‘What do you think? That there’s someone else? Goddammit, Diane, when have I had the chance to find someone else?’

‘I don’t know everything you did while you were in Abuqara,’ she protested. ‘Tony said that Abuqaran women are really beautiful—’

‘Tony!’ Matt was scathing. ‘I might have known Tony Corbett had a hand in this. Since when has he been such an expert on Abuqaran women?’

Diane shrugged a little defensively now. ‘He was only speaking objectively.’

‘I’ll bet.’

Diane pulled a face. ‘He’s my boss. He cares about me.’ She paused. ‘I’m glad he’s wrong.’

‘Yeah.’ Matt managed a faint smile in response. ‘So—what are you going to do? I’d offer to let you stay the night but only one of the rooms is furnished.’

‘We could always share—’ began Diane, and then cut herself off with a wry grimace. ‘No, scrub that. I can’t stay in any case. I’ve got a meeting with the board of governors this afternoon and I’ve promised to have dinner with Helen Wyatt this evening. She’s hopefully going to give the gallery some good publicity and I wouldn’t want to disappoint her. No, I’ll drop in on Mummy and Daddy and then I’ll head back to town. I suppose I just wanted to assure myself that the move had gone OK, to assure myself that you were all right.’ She paused. ‘And obviously you are.’

Matt inclined his head. ‘Thanks.’

Diane managed a bright smile. ‘My pleasure,’ she said, restricting herself to a quick squeeze of his arm. ‘OK, you look after yourself, right? I’ll be in touch again in a couple of days.’

The words ‘I’ll look forward to it’ stuck in Matt’s throat and he gave a rueful smile instead. ‘You take care,’ he said, as she picked up her handbag and headed towards the front door.

‘I will,’ she replied, and he felt guilty when he heard the sudden break in her voice. ‘Bye.’

‘’Bye,’ he answered roughly. But he closed his eyes against the sudden surge of relief he felt as the BMW crunched away down the drive.

‘I’ve been thinking, perhaps I could build a run for Amy’s rabbit in the garden. That way, Harvey wouldn’t be able to chase him. What do you think?’

It was a couple of days later and Fliss was making a shopping list to take to the supermarket in Westerbury when her father joined her. He had spent most of the morning editing an article he was writing about the need for care in the community, but now he came to lean on the table next to her chair.

Fliss looked up in some confusion. In all honesty, although her fingers were busy detailing the household goods and foodstuffs they needed, her mind had been far away. Well, across the churchyard actually, she conceded drily. Despite her resistance, Matthew Quinn had had that effect on her.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said, blinking rapidly. ‘What did you say?’

‘The rabbit,’ said her father patiently. ‘I was wondering whether it would be a good idea for me to build it an enclosure in the garden.’

‘Oh.’ Fliss endeavoured to get her brain in gear. She hesitated. ‘Do you think you could?’

‘I dare say.’ He straightened and regarded the expanse of lawn beyond the windows. ‘We can’t keep the poor thing trapped in its hutch all day, can we?’

‘I suppose not.’ Fliss shrugged. ‘Unless I take Buttons to the animal shelter while Amy’s at school.’

‘You wouldn’t do that,’ said her father firmly. ‘OK. I think there are some slats of wood in the shed. Perhaps you could get me a roll of netting when you go into Westerbury. A couple of metres should be enough.’

‘More than enough,’ agreed Fliss drily, hoping he wouldn’t destroy her flowerbeds in the process. She got to her feet. ‘What shall we have for lunch?’

It was a quarter to two when Fliss parked the Fiesta on the lot adjoining a small retail park. A do-it-yourself outlet, an electrical store, an auction warehouse—where Fliss sometimes liked to browse—and a supermarket circled the central parking area. Fliss liked its location because it was situated at the edge of town. It meant she didn’t have to negotiate the maze of oneway streets that characterised the central part of the city.

It was hot, the grey spire of the cathedral rising tall and impressive against the vivid blue of the sky. She knew she was lucky to live in this part of the country. It was very busy at this time of year, of course, with foreign tourists and more local traffic thronging the streets and clogging up the main arteries. But it was worth it for the times when there were no visitors, and she could walk along Cathedral Close and visit the ancient church without being jostled by the crowds.

She had got what she needed from the supermarket and was stowing her shopping in the car when she saw him. He was coming out of the auction warehouse and, judging by the fact that the manager had accompanied him outside, she guessed he’d bought something substantial.

Or maybe Harry Gilchrist had recognised him. Fliss knew the man who was with him. Harry Gilchrist’s son was in the same class as Amy at the village school. A single father himself, he’d often tried to draw Fliss into conversation. He evidently thought they had a lot in common, but Fliss didn’t encourage single men. Or married men, for that matter, she thought wryly. She was happy the way she was.

Now, however, she wished she had been a little more friendly. Then she might have felt free to saunter across the car park and exchange a few words with him and Matthew Quinn. Just to find out what Quinn had been buying, she assured herself firmly. Not with any idea of presuming on what had been a very brief acquaintance.

In any case, Diane was probably with him, she thought. Just because she wasn’t visible at the moment didn’t mean she wasn’t around. It was the most natural thing in the world that a couple who were planning on setting up home together should look for suitable furniture. Yet, knowing what she did of Diane, Fliss wouldn’t have expected her to want old—albeit valuable—furnishings.

Still…

She turned back to the car and finished packing her shopping into the boot. It meant wedging things together, but she didn’t want a jumble of spilled goods when she got home. Then, closing the hatch, she straightened—and looked directly into Matthew Quinn’s eyes, staring at her from across the car park.

For a moment she was immobilised by his gaze, which seemed more penetrating than the brilliance of the sun beating down on her bare head. Had he recognised her? Was that why he was staring at her? What was she supposed to do about it? Smile? Wave? Ignore him? What?

The dilemma was taken out of her hands when he nodded in her direction. Yes, she thought, feeling the erratic quickening of her heartbeat, he had recognised her. She felt ridiculously gratified that in spite of Diane’s hostility he did remember who she was. But then, it had only been a couple of days since he’d seen her. And he had been a journalist, after all.

She’d confirmed his identity by following her father’s example, when he was researching a story for his column, and checked the Internet. And, although the pictures they’d shown of him didn’t compare to the way he looked now, she’d been left in no doubt that he was the same man. He’d been gauntfeatured and skeletally thin when he’d returned from his imprisonment in Abuqara, but the strength of character and intelligence in his face had been unmistakable.

She hadn’t told her father who he was, however. She’d consoled herself with the thought that it wasn’t her job to expose the fact that they had a celebrity living in their midst. It was bound to come out sooner or later. Maybe Harry Gilchrist would be the one to blow his cover. Just so long as it wasn’t her. For some reason, that was important.

Deciding that the netting her father had asked her to get could wait, Fliss pulled her keys out of her pocket and started towards the driver’s door. It had suddenly occurred to her that she hadn’t bothered to change before she came out. In a white cotton vest and pink dungarees that fairly screamed their chainstore origins she’d be no match for Diane in her expensive designer gear. She wasn’t a vain woman, but she had her pride.

She had no desire to allow the other girl to embarrass her again. She swung open the car door, but before she could get inside, she heard someone call her name. Matthew Quinn was striding across the tarmac towards her and there was no way she could pretend she hadn’t noticed him.

Once again, she was impaled by the distracting intensity of his gaze, and she found herself turning to press her back against the car, holding on to the handle of the door with nervous fingers.

‘Mr Quinn,’ she said, clearing her throat as her voice betrayed her. But in narrow-fitting chinos and a black T-shirt, he made her nerves tingle, his dark eyes and hard features more familiar than they should have been. ‘How—how are you?’

‘I’m getting there,’ he said drily, regarding her so closely she was sure no aspect of her appearance had gone unremarked. ‘How about you? How’s—what’s its name—Buttons getting on?’

‘Oh—he’s OK.’ Fliss wondered if anyone would believe they were standing here having a conversation about a rabbit. She swallowed, forcing herself to look beyond him. ‘Is Diane with you?’

‘No.’ He didn’t elaborate. ‘Are you heading home now?’

‘Yes.’ Fliss lifted her shoulders awkwardly. ‘You don’t need a lift, do you?’

‘Would you have given me one?’ he enquired, a trace of humour in his voice, and Fliss felt her cheeks heat at the deliberate double entendre.

‘Of course,’ she replied, refusing to let him see he’d disconcerted her. ‘Well, if you don’t need my help…’ She glanced behind her. ‘I suppose I’d better be going…’

‘Do you have time for a coffee?’

If she’d been disconcerted before, his question caught her totally unawares and she gazed at him with troubled eyes. ‘A coffee?’

‘Yeah.’ His mouth turned down. ‘You know, an aromatic beverage beloved of our so-called civilised society?’

‘I know what coffee is,’ she said a little stiffly.

‘Well, then…?’

Fliss hesitated. She was getting the distinct impression that he was already regretting the invitation, but he’d made it now and he’d stand by it.

So why shouldn’t she take advantage of it?

‘All right,’ she said, feeling a little frisson of excitement in the pit of her stomach. ‘Where do you want to go?’

Matthew Quinn frowned. ‘Well, there’s a coffee shop in the supermarket, isn’t there? Or—’ His mouth thinned. ‘We could go back to my place.’

‘The supermarket sounds fine,’ said Fliss hastily, turning to lock the car again. She moistened her lips. ‘If you’re sure.’

‘Why shouldn’t I be sure?’ he demanded, and then sudden comprehension brought a sardonic twist to his mouth. ‘Oh, right. You think I might want to avoid public places, yeah?’

Fliss gave a nervous shrug. ‘It’s your call.’

‘But you know who I am, right?’ he persisted, and she gave him a defensive look.

‘Did you think I wouldn’t?’

‘Perhaps I hoped,’ he admitted, moving closer as another car came to take the slot beside Fliss’s. ‘I guess the whole village is twittering about it.’

‘You flatter yourself!’

Fliss used the retort to put some space between them. The other car had initiated an intimacy she hadn’t expected and she couldn’t deny she was flustered. The brush of his arm against hers had stirred an awareness that pooled like liquid fire in her belly and she was desperate to escape before he realised she was unsettled by his nearness.

‘Do I?’ he asked now, falling into step beside her as she hurried towards the supermarket. ‘How’s that?’

‘Well, I didn’t say anything!’ exclaimed Fliss hotly, feeling an unwelcome trickle of perspiration between her breasts. Rushing about in this heat wasn’t just unwise, it was stupid. ‘If you don’t believe me—’

‘Did I say I didn’t believe you?’ he countered softly. Then hard fingers fastened about her upper arm, bringing her to an abrupt stop. ‘OK, let’s start again, shall we? I know I probably seem paranoid to you and I’m sorry. It’s what comes of spending the last six months trying to pretend I’m normal. Obviously I’m not being very successful.’

Fliss’s eyes widened. ‘Don’t be silly,’ she said after a moment. ‘Of course you’re normal. It’s me. I’m too easily offended. But, honestly, I haven’t told anyone who you are.’

His lips twitched. ‘I believe you.’

‘Good.’ Fliss forced a smile, even though she doubted anything he said would slow her pulse. ‘So—do you want to go in?’

Matthew Quinn smiled then, which did nothing for her rattled equilibrium. Yet there was a vulnerability about that smile—as well as a raw sensuality—that seemed to tug almost painfully at her heart.

The fact that he’d actually said nothing to warrant such a reaction disturbed her quite a bit. She had no reason to feel sorry for him, for heaven’s sake. Or was feeling sorry for him her defence? The alternative—that she might be attracted to him—was definitely a more dangerous proposition.

‘You wouldn’t reconsider my offer of coffee at my house,’ he said at last, when she was almost at breaking point. ‘Maybe you’re right; maybe I do flatter myself. But right now, I’ve got no desire to risk being stared at yet again.’