Topspin (18 page)

“Jack, do you want me to send you some muscle?”

“What, walk around with a couple of goons shadowing my every step? Thanks, Cyril, but no thanks. That would create more problems for me over here than it would solve.”

“Yeah, I guess, but don’t underestimate them, Jack. They’re out for your blood and have said too much to be able to back down now and save face.”

“I hear you, Cyril.”

“Call me if you need help.”

“You know I will.”

Jack ended the call and put his phone back in his pocket, his features set in a hard, uncompromising line. Part of him deplored the notion of having to deal with the two thugs. He thought he’d put that aspect of his life behind him forever.

But the rest of him couldn’t wait to finish it.

Chapter Eight

A
S
P
EOPLE
B
EGAN
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ANDERING
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FF
, Rod came up behind Angela and placed a hand on her waist.

“I’ll take you all home,” he said.

“Don’t bother. I came with Jodie and she’ll drop me off. And I expect the kids’ll want to hang around for a bit longer.”

“No, we don’t.” Sheba appeared out of nowhere, smiling angelically at them both. “Anyway, Mum, Jodie’s already left with Karl.”

“Wonderful.” Angela rolled her eyes.

“That’s settled then.”

Rod ushered them through the door before Angela could think of a reason not to go with him. She reluctantly slid into the passenger seat of his car, muttering expletives beneath her breath. Rod and Sheba kept up an artificially bright conversation as they sped along the quiet roads. Malik contributed the odd remark when his sister paused long enough for him to get a word in edgeways, but Angela felt no compunction to be polite. She ignored everything that was said to her, pointedly staring straight ahead as they waited forever for the floating bridge to arrive.

“Don’t forget you said you’d look at my English assignment, Dad,” Sheba said sweetly as they pulled up outside Angela’s house.

Angela made a derisive sound at the back of her throat but refrained from comment.

“It’s late, Sheba, and I don’t think your mother wants me coming in.”

“It’s my house, too,” she protested peevishly.

“Perhaps another time, love.”

“Yes, it is quite late, I suppose.” Angela immediately smelt a rat. “How about tomorrow, Dad? It’s Saturday. You could come to lunch. Mum doesn’t work on a Saturday, so we could all be together like a proper family again.”

“You’ve got tennis coaching in the morning,” Angela said, experiencing a brief pang of guilt at Sheba’s very obvious desire to be part of a two-parent family, until she remembered why she’d left.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t last until lunchtime.”

“Doesn’t it? You don’t usually get home until late afternoon.”

“Not always. Why are you always so negative, Mum?”

“Take your homework to the tennis club, Sheba, and I’ll call in and have a look at it there,” Rod said.

Angela was highly suspicious about his sudden willingness to keep a low profile but didn’t intend to get into a lengthy discussion on the subject.

“Night, Dad.” Sheba leaned over from the back seat and kissed his cheek. “See you tomorrow then.”

“Night, love. Night, Malik.”

“Come on, Malik,” Sheba said impatiently when he made no move to get out of the car. “You’ve got the key. I’ve recorded
X Factor
and want to watch it before we go to bed. I really hope that jerky Scotsman doesn’t win.”

Before Angela had time to say she was coming too, the rear doors slammed and she was alone with Rod. His arm slipped along the back of her seat and came to rest across her shoulders, effectively trapping her unless she made a big deal out of pushing him away, and if anyone pushed Rod he had a tendency to push back. Harder.

“I enjoyed tonight,” he said. “Your friends are a great bunch.”

“Yes, they are.”

Angela refused to look at him but was conscious of his eyes leveled upon her profile. The atmosphere was charged and she sat frozen with indecision, nervously entwining the fingers of one hand with those of the other. It was completely quiet inside the car. No radio, no street sounds, and no chattering daughter to break the tension. Angela’s determination to exclude Rod from her life wasn’t going anywhere, but she couldn’t delude herself into believing she wasn’t still fiercely attracted to him. She’d never met anyone since their breakup that came close to turning her on in the way he did, with the possible exception of Jack. And Jack wasn’t interested in her so he didn’t count.

Being here alone with Rod was not only testing her resolve but very likely encouraging him to harbor false expectations. Rod was Rod. He wouldn’t change, and there was more at stake than just her peace of mind. She couldn’t afford to weaken. She twisted her shoulders away from him and managed to get the door half open before the blistering touch of his fingers on the bare skin of her arm halted her.

“Angie, listen to me, love. I know how you feel about me, but you need to give me the chance to prove I’ve changed.” He removed his fingers but she remained frozen in her seat, her gaze fixed on the dashboard, trapped by the invisible bonds that still tied her to this infuriatingly persuasive man. “What do I have to do to convince you?”

She sighed, this time succeeding in pushing the door open. “We’ve been through this before, and it’s too late for second chances. Find someone else.”

“I don’t want anyone else. I just want to be with you and the kids. Tell me what it’ll take.”

“All right.” She turned to face him, her expression veiled, her tone grudging. “If you really mean it, then get that pervert Paul out of your life once and for all and then maybe, just maybe you might be able to convince me to give it a try. No promises.” She held up a hand to prevent him from interrupting her. “And until then I’d prefer it if you didn’t encourage Sheba to think there’s a chance for us to be a family again. It’s not kind to give her false hope.”

“Okay.” Her suspicions were aroused by his easy capitulation. “I can see that might be unfair, but what about—”

“No! I know what you’re going to say and the answer’s still no. I won’t see Paul. I want nothing whatsoever to do with him.” She paused, aware that in her agitation her voice had risen. “And if I hear that he’s been near either of the twins, for any reason whatsoever, I’ll expose him to the world for what he really is.”

“That wouldn’t be sensible, Angie.” Rod’s tone was mildly reproving.

“Perhaps not, but that won’t prevent me from doing whatever I have to in order to protect our kids.”

She turned a chillingly determined gaze upon her husband, swung her feet out of the car, and fled to her front door.

Claire couldn’t sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, images of the cruel twist to Rod’s lips as he told her their affair would end only when he was ready for it to caused her to break out in a cold sweat. His insouciant tone reverberated in her head and she could feel the heat of his eyes as he leveled them upon her, demolishing the pack of lies she’d constructed around their relationship in order to live with her conscience. He’d stripped her bare in every sense of the word, and she knew she was now teetering on the brink, in very real danger of losing everything.

She couldn’t—wouldn’t—permit that to happen. There had to be a way to make him see reason. Perhaps if she went to the apartment on Monday and had it out with him, tried to explain? Her every instinct screamed at her not to take such a crazy risk. She’d had enough trouble resisting the attraction which made her gravitate toward him on the grounds of the club. Did she have the strength to be alone with him and not fuck him just one last time?

No! She was too weak to risk it. Keeping well away from him was her only option. He had to be bluffing when he threatened to blow the whistle on their affair. What would he have to gain by going public? If Rod wanted casual sex he wouldn’t have any trouble finding willing partners. Why focus his attention on her when she’d made it clear that she didn’t want to know him anymore? Besides, if he wanted Angela back, pursuing one of her closest friends was hardly the best way to go about it, so why was he?

Claire wished she could believe it was as simple as that. Thrashing restlessly about, she turned over and spooned herself against Joe’s back, a fresh wave of appreciation for her solidly dependable and completely faithful husband washing over her. Just the thought of how comprehensively it would tear him apart if he found out about Rod was enough to make her shiver with shame. Joe deserved better than that, and she would do whatever was necessary to ensure he never found out about her five minutes of madness.

Claire had thought Joe to be sound asleep, but the moment she touched him he opened his eyes, turned over, and pulled her into his arms. He stroked her hair and dropped a light kiss on her forehead.

“Can’t sleep?”

She snuggled against him. “It’s too hot.”

“Do you want me to throw the covers off?”

“No, darling, just hold me and tell me you love me.”

“I seem to remember those were the last words I said before we put the light out.”

“True, but then a girl never gets tired of hearing it. Besides, I’m not so sure I can trust you,” she teased, “surrounded by all those young nurses all day. I sometimes wonder if you monitor more than just your patients’ heartbeats.” She could sense Joe’s surprise. Claire had never shown insecurities of that nature before, and even though she’d spoken lightly Joe would remember the remark and wonder about it later. “I must be feeling my age,” she added lamely.

“Claire.” He leaned up on one elbow, peering at her face in the near darkness. “Is something wrong, darling? You haven’t seemed yourself lately.”

Damn, so he’d noticed. “No, nothing. Why do you ask?”

“Oh, I don’t know, lots of little things, I suppose. You seem to have been distracted, like you have something on your mind. You keep forgetting to do things. And then that incident at the club tonight—”

“I told you, that was just the heat.”

“Okay, but that hardly explains Chris’s odd behavior. Is that what’s been bothering you?”

“Yes,” she said, snatching at the lifeline he’d handed her, “that did concern me for a while, but he seems fine again now. I think it was something to do with Sheba leading him on and then going cold on him.”

“Ah, teenage angst. That would explain it, I suppose.” Joe chuckled. “I don’t envy him that.” He held Claire a little tighter. “But you would tell me if anything’s making you unhappy, wouldn’t you, darling?”

Claire leaned up on one elbow and kissed his lips, deep and long, diverting his attention away from the one subject she didn’t want to discuss. He responded by running his hands slowly down her body, returning her kiss with gentle, unhurried passion. Then he made love to her, and Claire put everything she had into giving him pleasure. At her point of climax she turned her face away from his, burying it in his shoulder so that he wouldn’t see the tears that sprang to her eyes. Tears of regret for what she’d almost thrown away. Tears of remorse and self-disgust. Tears of frustration because her climax was so woefully inadequate.

As soon as it was over Claire slipped out of his arms, in need of the bathroom. Joe switched on a bedside lamp and as she looked back at him to flash a smile of thanks she noticed his bewildered expression. He was wiping her tears away from his shoulder, examining his fingertips as though he couldn’t quite understand why they were wet. He threw back the sheet and stood up, rounding the bed and reaching the bathroom door at the same time she did.

“Darling,” he said, “whatever’s wrong?”