An Innocent Affair (13 page)

‘Just what have you two been talking about?' Hope asked sharply. It seemed to her that it wasn't Alex's intelligence that her friend had been drooling over.

‘He's angry, Hope—with you, I think.'

‘Well, don't look at me. It's par for the course. He's always angry at me for something or other. I could spend a week in a retreat in Outer Mongolia and I'd still do something to aggravate the man!'

Miranda's green eyes grew round as they rested on Hope's face. ‘I never thought I'd live to see the day!'

‘Don't talk in riddles,' Hope responded crossly.

‘I shall go to bed.'

‘Not before time,' Hope shouted after her.

 

‘Alex.' He stood with his back to her. Alex had a magnificent back. Amazing how a rear view could give such a clear impression of disposition. Even without Miranda's warning, she'd have known he was in a right royal fury.

‘What time do you call this?' He spun around.

Hope took her time examining the slender watch about her wrist before replying. ‘One-thirty.'

‘And what have you been doing? Or is that a silly question?'

‘Pompous doesn't suit you, Alex, but then I'm sure you know that. Actually—though it's none of your business—I've been working my butt off. You can see if you like,' she offered generously. She craned her head to get a view of her rear, clad in a pair of skin-tight jeans that clung lovingly to long lines of her legs.

‘At one-thirty!' He watched as she pulled off the short leather jacket she wore. The skinny rib polo neck clung to her curves like a second skin. At one time he'd convinced himself she was unaware of how provocative clothes like that were when they covered a body like hers. That had been before he'd been forced to face a few unpalatable facts.

‘Actually, we stopped at midnight for refreshments.'

‘I just bet you did,' he drawled. ‘Who's we?'

‘Jonah—Jonah Cromwell, the director—and me.'

‘Cosy.'

‘I didn't know I had a curfew.'

‘Did you share the joke with him?'

She sighed. ‘I'm tired, Alex, thoroughly fed-up and on the verge of hysteria. So if all this nonsense is leading somewhere, get to the point!'

‘This,' he said, flinging a rolled-up newspaper at her, ‘is the point!'

‘Oh, is that all?' She slumped into the stylish red leather and chrome chair that hadn't been created with the human spine in mind. The full story of Lloyd and Shirley had been told in inside-colour-spread splendour in a Saturday supplement. ‘I thought you'd be pleased.'

‘Pleased? Pleased to be made a total fool of?'

She blinked. This wasn't the response she'd been anticipating. ‘You were a bit silly, weren't you?' The perverse temptation to taunt a tiger was irresistible in her present frame of mind.

‘You knew I was half-insane, thinking of you with that man.' His lip curled in a savage snarl as he bit out the word. ‘You knew I half expected you to up and run when he crooked his finger. Did you get a kick out seeing me want to throttle the life out of the bastard? Do you like seeing men make fools of themselves over you?'

The extent of his unreasoning fury hit her for the first time. ‘I tried to tell—' she began, but Alex wasn't here to hear excuses.

‘You made yourself the laughing stock of the country for that man.'

‘The entire population doesn't treat the tabloids as gospel. I was helping out a friend.'

‘Some friend. Some
casual
favour.'

‘Come on, Alex, you can't have it both ways. A second ago you were angry that Lloyd
wasn't
my lover. Now you're mad because you think we're tied together by some invisible bond of eternal friendship. If I'm going to be reviled, I'd like to know what for, exactly.'

‘You want it straight? Fine!' His lips thinned to a grim line of distaste. He made a supreme effort to control his erratic breathing. ‘I think you enjoyed seeing me go
through hell thinking of you in his arms—his hands all over you.'

He closed his eyes, as though seeing a particularly terrible vision. He couldn't forget all the hours he'd spent agonising over his obsessive interest in a woman too young for him—unsuitable in every way. The way she'd flaunted her apparent affair with a married man should have put her out of bounds. He'd made a big production of saying just that. Five minutes later he'd been panting to rationalise his change of heart. No wonder she'd let him dangle; she had enjoyed the spectacle of him making a clown of himself. At my age, he thought with contempt, I ought to know better.

‘You wouldn't listen.'

Some things didn't change.

He continued in a driven voice, ‘It was more fun seeing me come into line, wasn't it? You knew I'd never hold out. You didn't tell me the truth because you got a kick out of it.'

‘That's not true,' she gasped. Did he actually think she was capable of playing such sordid games?

‘And you thought I'd come crawling to you, overcome with remorse, when the truth finally came out.' Her guilty flush at the arbitrary sliver of truth made his eyes narrow. ‘You know what I think? I think you'd have to owe someone big time to place your reputation on the line. I think there's more between you and Elliot than meets the eye. What did he promise you?'

‘Haven't you ever helped out a friend, Alex?'

Her quiet question seemed to shake him. ‘Are you trying to suggest you had no ulterior motive?' He resurrected his blighting scorn without any visible effort. ‘You couldn't be straight if you tried, Hope. Has anything you've ever said to me been the truth?'

Hope got to her feet. Being blasted by this much raw
contempt was a shattering experience. She was shaking with reaction. Later she might cry, but right now she was way past that form of release.

‘I wanted to explain to you, Alex, but I couldn't get past that wall of cynicism you've erected. This isn't about me, is it? It's about you being human and fallible. You can't take not being in control.'

‘If there's a control freak here, it's not me.'

What little control Hope had had over her temper snapped completely at this point. ‘You know what I think, Alex? I think you're disappointed I'm not the bad girl you had me pegged as. I think naughty girls get you turned on, and the idea you could force me to give up Lloyd made you feel like a really big man.'

‘You don't really imagine I
need
that sort of prurient stimulation?' He shook his head in shocked disbelief.

‘Oh, dear!' she trilled, covering her mouth with her hand. ‘Have I insulted your virility? Tough!' She spat the word out and her eyes grew hard. ‘You can sail in here and throw every vile insult that your sordid little mind can conjure up. But if I draw what is a perfectly logical conclusion, you're offended. I'd say that about sums up perfectly what passes for our relationship.'

‘Then possibly now is the time to end what obviously disgusts you.' Nostrils flared, eyes like ice chips, he managed to give the impression of looking down on her even though they were eye to eye.

‘Sounds good to me.' She rocked on her heels and smiled.

‘Fine!'

 

Miranda discovered her half an hour later, standing still as a statue staring out of the window blindly at the glit
tering lights. Her soft words of sympathy opened the floodgates.

Amidst the storm Hope heard her friend say soothingly, ‘I've got a little mask I keep in the fridge that works wonders for puffy eyes.' She wondered if there was anything there for a broken—no, bruised heart. ‘Broken' implied the damage was irreparable. She couldn't contemplate that possibility.

‘I'
VE
taken the liberty of placing you in one of the alcoves, sir. The large party is a little boisterous—an engagement, I believe.'

‘Scotch, no ice, please,' Jonathan said as he took his seat. ‘Mineral water, Hope?'

‘No, I'll have the same as you. Make it a double.'

Jonathan looked surprised, but nodded at the waiter. ‘Never seen you drink anything but wine before, Lacey, love. Are you feeling OK? You look a bit pale. Not anything catching, is it?'

‘Don't worry, Jon, you're safe.'

‘It's you I was concerned about, love.'

Hope threw her agent an ironic look which failed to penetrate his armour-plated skin. ‘Do you mind if we swop seats? I feel a bit on display here.' This wasn't much of an excuse; between the greenery and the strategically placed screens, she was scarcely visible from the main dining area.

Jonathan got obligingly to his feet. ‘You'll never learn. If you've got, it, love, flaunt it.' He looked expectantly at her and she smiled obligingly. It was one of his favourite sayings and he always wheeled it out as though it was a witty and original gem.

‘You'll never guess who's over there,' he said as he took her seat.

‘No, who?' she asked brightly.

‘That big guy who gave me the run-around with that compensation deal. You fell down that hole in his factory. You know, love, I never could understand what you were doing there.' He chuckled reminiscently and picked
up the menu. ‘He wasn't as clever as I thought. Apparently there were signs all over saying, “No admittance to the public”. We'd never have got a penny out of him if we'd gone to court.'

‘Aren't I lucky my agent's so clever?'

‘Want to go over and say hello?'

Hope stared at him in horror. ‘Are you
mad?
'

Jonathan shrugged. ‘I feel quite mellow about the whole thing. We'd be quids in if you hadn't insisted on giving the whole bundle to charity, Lacey.'

Hope took a deep swallow of the whisky. ‘Leave it, Jon.'

Her agent contented himself with an unhappy mutter. He cast his eyes down the expensive menu. ‘Is this on you?'

‘It would seem so,' Hope said drily.

‘In that case…'

 

‘Are you going to eat that?' Jon looked at the untouched salmon on her plate, floating in an interesting-looking dill sauce.

‘Feel free,' she said, leaning back in her seat. Jon had already polished off his own meal and she wondered idly where he put all the calories. He was a thirty-something man with a thin, wiry frame. When he wasn't eating he was talking, and sometimes he did both simultaneously, which didn't make him her favourite dining companion. Hope found him exhausting company at any time. Only tonight she was quite glad of his chatter.

‘You can't afford to sit back on your laurels, Hope,' he observed with his mouth full. ‘People forget quickly. You want to move ahead while your success is still fresh in people's minds.'

‘I won't,' she agreed vaguely, or should that have been, I will? she wondered. Strange how empty success was. She'd always thought it was an end in itself. But
she wanted someone to share her pleasure—not just her family, someone special, someone of her own. Was that so much to ask? The gaping hole in her life wasn't empty; it was filled with pain.

‘In the good old days she'd have been convalescing for months with a burst appendix, not a measly three weeks.'

Hope's attention strayed as the sound of laughter from across the room rang out. It made her wince. Her first instincts when she'd seen Alex, the instant she'd stepped over the threshold of the exclusive restaurant, had been to turn tail and run.

He stood out in a party of a dozen or so. The sight of his strong profile and dark head of hair had been like a band of steel tightening around her chest. It had given the momentary impression of suffocation. Making it to the table had been more exhausting than running a marathon. That the pain she was experiencing was phantom made it no less real.

Rebecca had been seated on his right, a vibrant, glowing Rebecca, and Alex had had her hand pressed to his lips as everyone raised their glasses. The waiter's words had only confirmed her suspicions. The tableau said everything she needed to know.

Well, it hadn't taken him long to get over her, she reflected, staring at the bottom of her glass broodingly. Jonathan's only comment had been, ‘You're paying,' when she'd ordered the second bottle, but she'd seen he was surprised.

‘You're not a happy drunk, are you?' Her companion's voice interrupted her gloomy reverie.

‘I'm not drunk.' More's the pity, she thought, with a fresh spurt of self-pity. ‘But the night's still young.'

Jonathan frowned. Lacey had never been one of the clients he'd had to get tough with over burning the candle at both ends. He hoped she wasn't going to go crazy
on him. There was a worrying wildness about the way she was looking tonight.

‘Champagne—we didn't order champagne,' Hope said as the waiter placed a bucket on the table.

Jonathan looked at the label. ‘Good stuff,' he said, impressed.

‘With the compliments of the party over there.' The waiter inclined his head towards the centre of the room.

‘Well, that's very decent of the man, I must say.' Jonathan waved his class cheerfully towards the laughing group.

‘Take it back!'

Jonathan gaped at Hope. ‘Don't be crazy; this is really excellent.' He twisted the bottle in its chilled bed.

‘I wouldn't take a crumb off that man if I was starving.'

The viciousness in her low, intense voice made Jonathan stare. ‘Well, I can understand he's not your favourite person. It must have been bloody painful, breaking your leg and everything—anyone would resent it. But it's not as if he pushed you down personally, is it?'

‘Take it away!'

‘Hell, Lacey, there's no need to make a scene.'

‘If I want to make a scene, I will.' He wasn't content with ruining her life, he wanted to rub her nose in his happiness. He was a heartless swine! And she hated him.

The object of her hate materialised at her side. ‘Is there a problem with the champagne?'

She smelt him before she actually heard him. That light, spicy stuff he wore underlaid by a more subtle male fragrance that was as unique as a fingerprint. It was horrifying to find her senses so finely attuned to him. And, why had she expected he'd look different? It had only been two weeks. Each strong feature was the way
she remembered it. Memory hadn't exaggerated his presence or pure, unadulterated sexiness.

‘Alex, what a surprise. I'm afraid I don't like champagne.' She didn't sound afraid; she sounded glad she could reject his generosity. It was strange to look at his hands and think how well they knew her body. The pain of loss slid through the barrier of her anger and it was devastating.

‘I do,' Jonathan retorted lightly.

Alex flicked him one dismissive look before turning his attention to Hope. ‘Rebecca saw you come in.'

‘Did you?'

His jaw tightened. ‘I'm sure
everyone
saw your entrance.' There was no hip-swaying affectation for Hope. She walked with a long-legged, confident stride that had stretched the fabric of her long gown to the limit. His narrowed eyes ran over the strapless midnight-blue gown. The diamond clip in her upswept hair matched the sparkling gems in her ears. She was classically sexy.

A sudden laugh drew Alex's attention to her companion. ‘She doesn't notice that everyone stares,' Jonathan murmured authoritatively. ‘Hard to believe, I know, but true,' he added, in face of the hard scepticism on the older man's face.

‘Do you mind?' Hope glared at Jonathan.

‘Rebecca wants everyone to share her happiness.'

‘It was her idea?'

One slanted brow shot upwards, and his lips twisted in a mocking smile. ‘You thought it was from me?'

‘I didn't even know you were here.' She kicked Jon under the table just in case he was going to open his big mouth at the wrong moment. How dared they discuss her as though she wasn't in the room?

‘Forgotten my name too, have you?' He didn't bother to hide his scepticism.

‘I'm working on that.

‘Thank Rebecca for the champagne and wish her all the best in the future.' Let no one say I don't have very nice manners.

‘Hope you'll both be very happy.' Jon rubbed his shin and reached for the bottle before anyone changed their mind. ‘Join us for a toast and we'll drink to your future. What? What have I done now?' he asked with an injured expression as Hope looked daggers at him.

Alex had turned back in the act of moving away. ‘You'll drink to
my
future?' A curious expression had entered his eyes.

‘I'll toast anyone who buys me a drink.'

‘Based on past experience, your honesty is surprising.'

‘That was business. No hard feelings.' Jon patted the dark sleeve of Alex's suit, then regretted the casual intimacy under the narrow-eyed stare of the older man's slatey eyes.

‘Will
you
drink to my future, Hope?'

Hope swallowed the painful constriction in her throat. The thudding in her temples increased in tempo. She could feel his eyes coldly analysing every shift of expression on her face. The flicker of an eyelash, the tilt of her chin.

‘I hope you get everything you deserve from life.' Nicely translated it came out as, Rot in hell, and she was sure from Alex's expression that he understood every word.

Why did I go and do that? she wondered. I'm not supposed to give a damn either way. Her languid scorn was a joy to behold—she'd practised it enough. Now was not the time for improvisation. Though in her mental rehearsals Alex hadn't been about to marry another woman, so she did have some excuse for straying from the script.

‘I'm touched.' His gesture resulted in a chair being brought promptly. ‘I will have that drink with you.'

His knees touched hers beneath the table and Hope drew back as if stung. Her cool façade had crumbled ignominiously at the slight, possibly deliberate physical contact. Angry, she smoothed invisible wrinkles from the moulded bodice of her dress. When she looked up Alex's eyes were fixed on the exposed creamy cleavage. The light boning did make the best of her assets.

‘We wouldn't want to keep you from your own party.' She hated herself for responding to the burning hunger in his glance.

‘Rebecca can afford to be generous tonight.'

His smug certainty grated on Hope. Did he know each word was like a poisoned dart? ‘I'd be worried if my future husband ogled other women's breasts the way you do.' I sound like a spiteful bitch, she realised in dismay.

‘Oh, hell,' Jonathan groaned quietly as he choked on the excellent champagne. So
that
was what Lacey had been doing in the country.

‘If you shove them in a man's face he doesn't have much choice but to look, sweetheart,' he drawled.

Hope stiffened with outrage—shove them! ‘In other words, a woman who doesn't hide her body in a sack is asking for it,' she breathed wrathfully.

‘It's men's nature to look, and your body would still be an invitation in a sack.'

‘Amen to that,' Jonathan breathed.

‘Don't you
dare
side with him! He's accusing me of being a vamp.'

‘Only after you accused me of being a lecher,' Alex pointed out pedantically.

‘I'm going to the little boys' room.' Jonathan gave the almost full bottle a wistful glance before he left.

Alex watched the younger man retreat with an expression of scorn. ‘He's going to run out on you.'

‘I know,' she said tolerantly.

‘Why do you put up with him? He's a creep.'

‘He's a very good agent.' ‘Creep' was being a little hard. ‘And there's no possibility of him falling in love with me,' she murmured hazily.

Alex's glance sharpened—no, she couldn't be, he decided. There wasn't even the suspicion of a slur to mar her clear diction. ‘Perhaps we should be toasting your success.'

‘You heard about that, then?' She tried to put pleasure into her lack-lustre response.

‘I saw it.'

His words shocked her. The idea of Alex out there one night in the darkness watching her sent a secret shiver down her spine. ‘I'm glad I didn't know,' she confessed unthinkingly. For some reason words seemed to be popping unbidden into her mouth.

‘Why?' He filled her glass, but left his own empty.

‘An audience should be anonymous.' How could she have forgotten who she was and thrown herself into a characterisation if she'd known he was there? She'd have frozen; he made her too aware of exactly who she was. ‘So—marriage.' She emptied her glass in one gulp and swirled the slender-stemmed goblet in a wide arc.

As Alex ducked to avoid a collision with his head it occurred to him that despite her controlled speech the lady really was well and truly drunk. ‘Yes, indeed, marriage. Are we talking in general here, or…?'

‘Yours. Yours and Rebecca's. You've never done it before?'

‘Not so as I recall.'

‘She's nice.'

‘I think so.'

‘Then I hope you'll be very happy.' She felt a saintly glow of self-sacrifice as she earnestly told him this. ‘When's the wedding?'

‘Next week.'

She swallowed hard and looked straight head. Well,
that should put a stop to her romantic daydreams. Nothing like the brutal truth to wake a girl up to the futility of fantasies.

‘I don't suppose there's much point waiting when you already know one another.'

‘That's what Rebecca says.'

‘Marriage is pretty serious.'