Kissed by Moonlight (13 page)

She said it to boost his ego, make him put a value on himself, because if he didn't put a value on himself, no one else would. Only Bob himself could knock down the ‘Good old Bob' image that he didn't much like. That was only one very desirable facet to his character as, someday, some discerning girl with the patience to chip away would find out.

He looked at her with mute eyes and she knew she had made a miserable mistake. In his brash way, Bob had sensed before she did that she was reaching out to him, but he obviously hadn't understood just what she was reaching out for.

At that moment, not knowing where David was, with the suspicion burning in her mind that he and Justine had slipped away together to steal some time alone, there would have been a cold satisfaction in unfaithfulness, but not with Bob. Not because she didn't have enough affection for him, but because she had too much. She would not destroy him, use his devotion to steal a fleeting moment of time with which to assuage her heartache over David.

For both their sakes, for the sake of a lasting and worthwhile friendship, she must guide them back from this dangerous edge. The adoration on his face must never be allowed to spill out into words. That old cliché, being cruel to be kind, slid into her mind.

She tossed her head back and let the brittleness of her smile shatter the tenderness of the moment and the fragility of his hopes. “In fact, Bob, if I weren't so crazy about that wretch of a husband of mine, I could fancy you myself.”

He was not slow on the uptake; he got the message.

“Thanks, Trina, but I know my rating with women. I'm not going to waste time talking about someone as dull as me. Let's talk about you instead.”

“I love David, I want to make that perfectly clear, but that doesn't mean that I'm blind to other men. You really are nice, Bob.”

“Yeh. Perhaps I've been in David's shadow too long. It was one heck of a surprise when he shot off home and came back with a wife. I hadn't realized he was that seriously tied up with anyone. How long have you known him?”

“Forever. He was twelve when he first saw me. I was in my crib at the time.”

“So he watched you grow up and waited his chance?”

She began to breathe easier; the danger had passed. It was going to be all right between them. “He couldn't stand me. When I was eighteen I had a terrible crush on him. He made it plain that he thought I was a pain in the neck.”

“If that's true, and I don't believe it, he obviously changed his mind, wise man.” Then Bob demonstrated what a truly generous man he was by saying, “He's a great guy and I'm glad that someone like you happened to him. He works too hard. This venture has been his wife, his mistress, his baby. He's lived with it, slept with it, breathed life into it for three years. It's so near to being fully operational that I suppose he finds it difficult to let up now.”

Perhaps – and she hoped this was the case – it had been nothing more than a moment of madness and Bob was relieved that they were back on the old footing.

“That's in case I've been feeling neglected,” she said, without having to exercise too much perception.

“I sometimes think, for all his knowledge of women, he doesn't know them at all.”

“What do you mean, Bob, ‘all his knowledge of women'?” she asked with exaggerated teasing.

He grimaced. “That's just the sort of fool remark I make when I'm trying to smooth things out. Who needs enemies when they've got friends like me? And why don't I just keep my big mouth shut?”

“It's all right,” she said, relenting. “I know there have been others. At his age, I couldn't expect to be the first girl in his life.”

“So long as you're the last, hey?”

“I suppose I can hope for that,” she said, but without conviction. Opting to get off that aspect of David's life, she regarded Bob thoughtfully. “David's not the only one to have worked hard or given up three years. You have too.”

“And never regretted a day of it. It's been the most rewarding job I've ever tackled. And I don't just mean the pay, although that's not a consideration to be sniffed at. It's like this – when you think of the term ‘financier' it conjures up a picture of a man sitting behind a huge desk puffing on a big fat cigar, pushing buttons, and expecting miracles. It's great being in with someone who's there not just to crack the whip now and then, but has a working involvement. Someone who sees at first hand all the problems that need to be dealt with and isn't afraid of rolling up his sleeves when it's required.”

That surprised her. She hadn't realized that Geoffrey Hyland, the financier Bob was obviously referring to, was part of the working team. She'd thought that he probably descended on them, from time to time, to keep an eye on his investment, leaving David in charge of the actual carrying out of the work. She seemed to have misjudged the man, in one way at least.

It was on the tip of her tongue to say what she thought, but Bob forestalled her. “See what I mean? Only an oaf like me would talk shop in the company of a pretty girl. Would you like to dance?”

“I'd love to,” she replied promptly.

As they made their way to join the dancers, she said, “Have you seen Ginny this evening?”

“No.”

“I'd make a point of it, if I were you. She looks quite something.”

“That'll be the day. Poor kid, she's got no fashion sense, and that awful brown ribbon she wears in her hair ...” His eyes closed in despair. “I ask you!”

“Her hair isn't tied back tonight. She's wearing green.”

“I'll bet she looks just like a string bean.”

“If I took that bet on I could have your boot laces,” she said.

“Okay, so she looks more presentable than usual. I'm just not that curious to find out. I see enough of her during the day with –” His eyes narrowed on Petrina's huge smile. “So, what's the joke?”

“Nothing much. Just something that crossed my mind.” When indifference was laid on this thickly, didn't it sometimes mean the opposite? Was Bob more impressed with Ginny than he made out?

With no more warning than a flicker of lightning across the sky, the rain began to fall. Or perhaps she had used all her senses to sort things out with Bob and she hadn't been alerted to the fact that the storm was ready to break.

Someone had, she thought, on realizing that the long tables and benches and most of the implements of the barbecue had been carried away and that the crowd had thinned considerably. Only the musicians remained and a handful of dancers who wanted to squeeze the last drop of enjoyment out of the evening.

“Where's David? Have you seen him anywhere?”

“No, and I'm not staying around to look,” Bob said. At least, that's what she thought he'd said. The tail end of his words was lost in a gigantic roar of thunder. The sky opened and it poured down. It was totally unlike England's gentle rain. It bent her to its will, driving and battering and soaking her within seconds. It felt as though she were walking in a river. Bob's arm had immediately clamped around her and within its protection she was raced back to the hotel. Sliding and slipping, she was grateful of that arm around her shoulders, then under her legs, as he became hampered by and impatient of her slowness and lifted her up and ran, carrying her for the rest of the way.

He dumped her on the hotel steps, his eyes urgently scanning the giggling, bedraggled group of people huddled there. Petrina, too, searched for a face that wasn't there.

“I wonder where David's got to,” she said.

Bob said wryly, “If I were you I'd go straight upstairs and get out of those wet clothes.”

“Good idea.” She turned obediently in the direction of the elevator, but hesitated when she realized it wasn't Bob's intention to follow her. “Where are you going?”

“I just thought I'd take a look outside.”

“What for? If David hasn't the sense to come in out of the rain then he deserves to get wet,” she said tartly. “Anyway, he's probably sheltering somewhere.”

“Mm, yes.”

He was wearing a silly, self-conscious grin on his face. Ginny's also seemed to be a missing face among the crowd. Of course! It wasn't David he was concerned about at all.

David followed her up practically on her heels, before she'd had time to change out of her sodden clothes. She was in a sorry, bedraggled state; his appearance hadn't altered.

“You're not even wet,” she accused.

“I was in the car. There was something I remembered that had to be done. I expected to be back before the storm broke, but no doubt Bob looked after you.” How dare he have the effrontery to throw Bob in her face! She'd seen him dancing with Justine just before they both disappeared. She didn't need to have it spelled out just what the nature of the mission was that had taken him off with such urgency.

She threw back her head. “Yes, he did,” she said, adding with taunting deliberation, “Bob is a perfect gentleman.”

“Meaning I'm not?”

She shrugged. “If you say so.”

He grasped her angrily by the shoulders. “I suppose
he
wouldn't have left you kicking your heels these last two days?”

Had she only been here two days? Was it only three days since their wedding? It seemed a lifetime ago since she'd kissed her father-in-law, dear Uncle Richard, goodbye and embarked on her new life with such love for her husband, such high optimism. The love was still there – no matter how difficult he was or how despicably he behaved, she would always love him – but her optimism was fast diminishing. She was too spirited to turn a blind eye to his affair with another woman and take a place in the background, grateful for the little affection he could spare. It seemed incredible that he would expect it of her after only three days of marriage.

“You've got to bear in mind that Bob doesn't have my responsibilities,” he said through clenched teeth.

What was all this talk about Bob, if not to divert her from asking questions about Justine?

“What responsibilities?” she demanded recklessly. “Do you mean he doesn't have a mistress to pacify?”

“I must presume you mean Justine?” he queried with heavy sarcasm.

“You presume correctly.”

“Jealous, Pet?” he mocked.

His cool derision was more difficult to bear than his earlier anger. She had nothing handy to throw at him except words. She had plenty of those.

“Of course not! You've got to care something for a person before you can be jealous. Remember, I only married you because it was preferable to remaining at home and being harassed by the press.” Her heart sorrowed at the lie, but her pride rejoiced in it.

“Ah, yes.” He tilted her chin and forced her to meet his glance head-on. “And have you worked out yet why I married you – apart from lusting for you, that is?”

She ran her tongue nervously over her dry lips. She was wishing she hadn't been drawn into this – at the same time she refused to back down. “Yes, I worked that out practically straight away.”

“Tell me what you worked out.” When she didn't reply, he commanded, “Answer me.”

“Do you need enlightening?” She would not
let
him frighten her, or, more to the truth, she would not let him know that he
was
frightening her.

“No. I know my reason for marrying you.” His mouth twisted on cruel self-indulgence. “I thought it might be amusing to hear your theory.”

“I can't see any reason for not telling you. You married me to throw your boss off the scent. Whatever his suspicions before, he would hardly think you were still carrying on with his wife when you turned up with a bride.”

He smiled as though he really was amused by her reasoning. She must remember that he was clever. Beneath the smile she could sense that he was seething, so he was probably aiming to ridicule her to make her think she was wrong.

“My boss?” he queried.

“Who else but Geoffrey Hyland,” she said in a voice equally as imperious as his. “He
is
your boss, isn't he?”

“No.” Hauteur overlaid his tone. “He's my partner. We are both shareholders.”

“I guessed as much. I'd an idea you'd invested money of your own and that you weren't just an employee. But isn't there one person who makes the decisions, pushes the buttons, and can take full blame for creating, out of my father's loss, a holiday island that combines everything he most detested? In other words, isn't there a major shareholder?”

“Yes, there is,” he said, his eyes narrowing to points of steel.

Didn't he know she understood that he was carrying out someone else's orders and that her criticism wasn't directed at him?

It seemed not. He replied as though it was a personal attack on his integrity and the words exploded from him. “All the arguments lead back to this one point, don't they, Petrina? You're blinded by false loyalty. You can't see that your father's dream was just that. Dreams are mental fantasies. They're not meant to convert to reality. Your father found that out and it destroyed him. Anybody foolish enough to pour his money into a vision that's impractical and doesn't have a sound base to build on would be destroyed too.” He pulled himself up. Concern for her locked with his anger and overtook it. “I know I'm being unkind. It's too soon after your father's death for all this. I'm not so insensitive that I don't know you're grieving for him.”

She would not be placated. “Y-you're n-not acting in an insensitive or unkind way. You're merely being true to form.” Only her voice faltered. Her intention to hurt him, as he had hurt her, was steadfast.

“Dear heaven, it's hopeless!” It was a cry of anguish. “Why won't you see, damn you? Gingerbread houses crumble underfoot. Sugar-icing castles melt in the rain. Prince Divinely Perfect doesn't exist. Come down to earth and accept what you've got – an ordinary guy with ordinary desires and ordinary faults. Accept me, Petrina, just as I am. If you don't, one day you'll look around and you won't have me any longer, because I'm getting mighty fed up of being looked down on as though I were trash.”