They’ll probably hate me, she concluded morosely. Her elbow caught one of Justin’s prized antique figurines and with a gasp of dismay she straightened it. Justin’s flat was dauntingly neat—even his glossy magazines were stacked with military precision. She found herself automatically
comparing it to the simplicity of Liam’s decor. For a brief, wildly blissful moment it had been her decor, her home. She’d started thinking in terms of
us,
not him and me. They’d discussed the house they would buy together.
‘Stop it!’ she reprimanded sharply. Seeing Suzanna had put paid to that fantasy. She wanted to spend her life with Liam, she wanted it so much that she’d managed to turn a deaf ear to the unpalatable fact she had virtually trapped him into marriage.
For his own reasons he was a willing victim, but that didn’t make him any less the victim. Maybe the awful Suzanna wasn’t his soul mate—
she hoped not
—but one day there would be one and Jo knew that she couldn’t bear to witness the inevitable disintegration of their makeshift relationship.
Better by far to accept now that Liam was no longer part of her life. How hard could that be?
When she first heard the key in the lock Jo assumed Justin had forgotten something, which was not like Justin at all. The poor thing would have missed his flight. She was about to call out when she heard a voice most unlike Justin’s. It was much deeper and had an intriguing gravelly twang.
‘Thanks a lot. I didn’t want to wake her.’
Jo’s feet seemed frozen to the spot. Her hands went to her mouth as she stared at the open doorway.
‘You!’ she gasped as the tall figure materialised on cue. ‘How. . . ?’
Liam didn’t speak immediately. He took his time looking around the room, allowing Jo ample time to appreciate the full awfulness of the situation. ‘Very tasteful,’ he said nastily.
‘Go away! Be careful with that!’ she yelped as he picked up a small bronze and turned it over.
‘A good fake.’
‘So now you’re an expert on antiques too. How did you know I was here?’
‘I didn’t. I knew you didn’t have a penny to your name. That limited the possibilities.’ He threw her wallet containing her credit cards on the sofa. It fell open and her spare change scattered messily. ‘Hotels were obviously out. I rang every number in your address book and no joy.’ He was breathing deeply as he raised his eyes directly to her face for the first tune.
‘How dare you go through my personal belongings?’
‘I dare because you walked out on me without a word of explanation on the eve of our wedding.’
Liam was mad, my God he was
really
mad. The air in the room was dense with the sort of static that a thunder storm carried in its wake. He was carrying his own personal storm around with him. Jo had a fanciful image of him opening his clenched fist to reveal the flicker of blue lightning. He was nursing a deadly sort of anger It made his voice low and calm and all his actions slow and deliberate as though he had to force himself to concentrate hard on the little things.
‘Guess who popped up in your little black book? By some twist of fate your trusty old flame, Justin. What’s wrong—is his telephone number as forgettable as the rest of him?’ His nostrils flared as he smiled nastily. ‘When I saw him driving away my first thought was, No, she’s not here. What unimaginative idiot would leave the woman he loves in an emotionally vulnerable state? What sort of man would walk away from a situation fraught with possibilities?’
‘Not all men take advantage of vulnerabilities.’ Jo knew the insinuation wasn’t entirely fair, but she experienced a
perverse pleasure when the lines of tension radiating from his mouth tightened.
Liam’s white, even teeth came audibly together in a white, cruel smile as he replied. ‘More fool them.’
‘How did you get in?’
‘Easily, once I explained to the doorman that my wife and I—he might have seen her earlier: short redhead, pregnant—were staying at Justin’s. You shouldn’t think too badly of him.’
‘I don’t. I know what a good liar you are.’ Could he see she was shaking? She locked her fingers together and pressed them against her midriff to hide the fine tremors.
‘You’re too kind.’ The fake smile faded away. ‘I think we’ve about exhausted the story of how I got here. What shall we talk about now?’ He frowned exaggeratedly as if seeking inspiration.
‘I don’t want to talk to you at all, Liam. Go away.’ Jo wasn’t entirely surprised when he didn’t. She didn’t dare speculate where this encounter was leading. Damage limitation was the best outcome she could hope for.
‘We could always discuss this.’ He produced a piece of paper which he flung in her general direction. ‘Nothing quite beats the personal touch. I suppose I should be grateful you didn’t just leave me standing at the altar.’
‘I wouldn’t do that!’ she gasped. She bit her lip with anguish as he poured scorn on her assertion with a quirk of one eloquent eyebrow. ‘I understand you’re feeling a bit upset but—’
‘
Upset
!’ A dark rush of colour seeped slowly under his tan as he gazed at her with icy contempt. ‘That’s very understanding of you, Jo.’ He bit the words out from between clenched teeth.
‘I know a fax is a bit impersonal,’ she conceded shakily.
‘But I knew that you’d talk me out of it,’ she admitted, cornered—the truth was the only way out.
‘You being such a pliant, impressionable soul,’ Liam sneered, unimpressed by her honesty.
Ironically he had no idea just how impressionable she was as far as he was concerned. ‘You being a totally unscrupulous bully,’ she retorted, forgetting in the frustration and heat of the moment that she was going to be sensitive and reasonable. ‘Besides, I
want
to marry you—that is,’ she pushed on hastily, ‘it would be much
easier
to marry you. Easy but not
right
.’ It sounded a bit priggish and limp even to her ears.
‘Last night it was right. This morning when I spoke to you on the phone it was right. What’s changed?’
‘I wasn’t thinking straight.’ For some reason Jo couldn’t tear her eyes from the throbbing pulse in his temple.
‘Why change the habit of a lifetime?’
‘It couldn’t last, Liam.’
The desolation in her tone seemed to penetrate his fury. Stern blue eyes searched her face and his anger didn’t dissipate, but it was now leavened with a seething frustration. He covered the intervening space between them and took her by the shoulders. She had the impression he wanted to shake her, but he didn’t.
‘There are never any guarantees, you know that, Jo.’ He wasn’t handing out concessions; the planes of his angular face held no softness, just fierce determination.
‘I don’t want guarantees,’ she retorted, ‘just a fighting chance.’
He flinched as if her words had caught him on the raw. The truth always did hurt, she reflected woefully.
‘And you don’t think we have that?’
She shook her head from side to side and then as a great wave of desolation swept over her leant her forehead on
his arm. She felt his fingers tighten on her shoulders. He shifted his shoulder and his arm came around her bowed head, drawing her face against his chest.
‘You’ve never even considered marriage—at least not to me.’ Her voice was muffled against his jacket. He smelt so good—if only she could stay like this for ever, she thought wistfully. It felt so
right
.
‘Not to anyone.’
‘Not even Suzanna?’
‘Who?’
Jo lifted her head, her eyes alight with indignation, and Liam’s arm fell away. ‘The Suzanna you wrote pages about in your letters.’ At least before Liam had always been straight with her.
‘Oh, that Suzanna,’ he said a shade defensively.
‘
That
Suzanna.’ Well might he look shifty. ‘I met her today.’
‘What? That’s not poss. . . ’
‘She came to the flat this morning looking for you.’
‘Typical,’ Liam mused, and Jo was disgusted to see a faint ironic smile curve his firm lips. Was breaking women’s hearts all in a day’s work for him?
‘I’m afraid I told her you were getting married,’ she choked. ‘She wasn’t very happy.’
‘I can imagine, but she’ll survive.’
‘Liam!’ she gasped, shocked at this heartless response. She looked at him searchingly. Was he trying to mask deeper feelings behind this callous exterior?
‘What’s wrong?’
‘You can’t just discard people,’ she told him severely. ‘It’s. . . it’s ruthless.’
‘Are you in any position to comment? Some people might categorise your actions as ruthless. Ruthless, uncompromising,
selfish. . . ’ he added, just in case she’d missed his point.
The irony was something she couldn’t, under the circumstances, share with him. Giving Liam his freedom was probably one of the most selfless acts she’d ever be called upon to perform; she certainly hoped so! An undisciplined part of her wanted to fling accusations at him. . . It’s me you’re supposed to love!
‘Are you in love with Suzanna?’ She wouldn’t allow him to deflect her from the subject. Perversely she sought out confirmation that would hurt.
‘No.’
This categorical denial didn’t make her feel much better. ‘You used to be honest with me,’ she muttered, raising reproachful eyes to his face.
Liam sucked in his breath sharply. ‘I don’t know why you bothered asking me if you’ve already made up your mind.’
‘In your letters you—’
‘Those letters were. . . ’ Jaw set, he turned his head away from her for a moment and muttered something inaudible under his breath. Jo caught the tail-end of ‘too clever for my bloody good.’
‘Were what?’ she prompted. ‘Other than gushingly sentimental, that is.’
‘I am never. . . ’
H
is eyes suddenly narrowed and a slow, disturbing smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. ‘My God! Is that what all this is about? You’re jealous.’
Jo stiffened. ‘In your dreams, Rafferty,’ she croaked. ‘I just don’t like being treated as your social secretary by your latest girlfriend.’
‘You hated the idea of me with Suzanna so much you did a runner.’
She longed to slap that satisfied smirk off his face. How
dared he find her pain and humiliation amusing? ‘Under normal circumstances, Liam, I have nothing more than an academic interest in what female is deluded enough to share your bed. However, as I was wearing this damned thing. . . ’ she glared at the big emerald and tugged at it without any real belief her efforts would achieve anything; it seemed nothing short of surgery would dislodge the thing ’. . . it occurred to me that it might be uncomfortable to be married to someone who comes home at night smelling of someone else’s perfume.
‘In the past I’ve always been tolerant of your sexual exploits. However, in the past I wasn’t expected to share your bed. Possibly you get some sort of kick out of discussing your sordid affairs—I believe some people do. However, I’m not prepared. . . ’ It was a mistake to look directly into his eyes; she saw sizzling anger there and completely lost the thread. ‘No. . . no, I’m not,’ she faltered before losing steam completely.
There was a moment’s shocked silence, though the echo of her shrill accusation still seemed very loud m the quiet room. ‘Just what sort of arrangement do you think I had in mind when I proposed to you, Jo?’ He didn’t give her space to reply but went on in a soft, deadly voice that throbbed with anger, an anger that was reflected in his harsh, taut expression. ‘We both lead our own lives? You thought you could go running back to your old lover when it suits you and I would turn a convenient blind eye. . . ?’
‘It wasn’t like that!’ she gasped. He couldn’t think she and Justin were taking up where they left off!
‘Like hell it wasn’t,’ he said with a tight-lipped smile. ‘I can see the tender scene now.’ It didn’t look as if he was enjoying what he saw. ‘And I’d like to make it quite clear right now that I take great exception to the idea.’
He took. . . ! At what point had the tables been turned?
she wondered numbly. She almost expected to hear herself humbly apologising—
never
! The nerve of the man! What right did he have to come over all morally superior? She quivered with moral indignation.
‘The thought of incurring your disapproval has me trembling,’ she assured him with heartfelt insincerity.
‘I’d noticed.’
She glared up at him. Damn him, did he miss nothing? ‘That’s anger,’ she hissed.
‘If you say so.’
‘Don’t you
dare
humour me, Liam Rafferty!’
‘Considering the picture you’ve just so eloquently painted of an inadequate who fancies himself as a sexual athlete, I think you owe me some leeway, Jo. If we’re to trade insults on a one-for-one basis, that is.’
Jo could feel the hot colour wash over her skin. ‘I didn’t say that exactly.’ Hearing it put like that made it hard to maintain her belligerent pose. ‘Besides, don’t all men do that with their mates in the pub—talk about their sexual conquests? It must have really cramped your style when you had me in tow.’ The idea of Liam thinking of her as one of the lads made her want to stamp her feet. It was very frustrating being too mature to indulge in this childish outlet.