A Very Public Affair. Sally WentworthЧитать онлайн книгу.
make.’
‘Oh. Of course.’ She stood back. He moved towards the door but she said impulsively, ‘Jack?’
Half turning, he gave a crooked kind of grin. ‘We’ll talk later. In about half an hour. OK?’
She nodded, satisfied, and he went out to the study.
He was gone for longer than he’d said; it was almost an hour before he came back. She supposed that he had been informing other members of his family of -his father’s death, and she wondered how long it would be before the funeral would take place. Jack, she was sure, would stay on here until then, so they could still be alone here together. Excitement rose at the thought.
But this hope was immediately shattered when Jack returned and said, ‘I’ve been in touch with other relatives; they’ll be coming here as soon as they can.’ He paused, then said heavily, ‘About last night. I suppose I ought to apologise, but I’m afraid I’m not sorry that it happened. I needed you—and I’m pretty certain you needed me almost as much.’ He didn’t wait for her to speak, but went on, ‘But the fact remains that I took advantage of you being here. For your sake I shouldn’t have done that.’ He shrugged. ‘But I did, and I’m grateful that you were so—accommodating.’ His grey eyes rested on her face. ‘And I’d like to show my gratitude by giving you this. It should keep you while you sort yourself out’ And he held out a folded piece of paper.
Clare didn’t take it She could see it was a cheque. Anger flared through her. Her chair fell over as she sprung to her feet. ‘What the hell do you think I am—a prostitute? I didn’t do it for money!’
Jack, too, stood up and came round the table. Catching hold of her arm, he said forcefully, ‘I know that. It isn’t a payment.’
Clare laughed bitterly. ‘What else would you call it?’
‘It’s just a token, a way of saying thanks. What other way do I have?’
There were a million ways, Clare thought. Like taking her in his arms and saying how wonderful it had been for him. He could have kissed her, smiled, said he wanted it to happen all over again. Now. Tomorrow. That she was important to him now. But all he’d said was that he’d needed her, she’d been there, available, and so he’d taken her. Used her, in other words, but was going to assuage his conscience by paying for it! Clare felt a great surge of humiliation, and what had been wonderful suddenly became tainted and dirty.
Her voice tight, Clare said, ‘I’m leaving here. Now!’
Her pride and dignity astounded him. Jack had expected her to take the money with relief, if not with pleasure—not act as if he’d somehow defiled her by offering it. She was destitute, for heaven’s sake, and he’d only wanted to help her, to show his gratitude in the most practical way possible. But maybe it was better this way. He didn’t want her clinging round him, creating a scene when he asked her to leave, so he said shortly, ‘I’ve already arranged for a taxi to collect you. The trains are running, so it will take you to the nearest mainline station.’
She stared at him, her face stony. ‘You just can’t wait to get rid of me, can you?’
Jack paused, his eyes on her face, seeing that her anger gave her beauty. He felt a terrible reluctance to hurt her, but he knew it had to be done. His voice expressionless, he said, ‘One of the people who’s on their way here, who will be arriving probably later today, is my wife.’
The train was almost empty. Clare sat next to the window, looking unseeingly out at the fleeing landscape, the snow gradually giving way to patchwork fields and bare-branched trees. Jack had given her money for the fare to London and she’d had to take it. And just now, in the pocket of her anorak, she’d found the cheque he’d tried to give her earlier. It was for an immense amount, enough to keep her for ages. She would have liked to just tear it up, but she’d be an utter fool to do that. She could have afforded that kind of gesture when she’d thought there was a chance of staying with him, but not now that he had finally kicked her out. Out of his bed, out of his life.
She felt hot tears sting her eyes, but somehow blinked them back. What else had she expected, for heaven’s sake? He’d been bound to kick her out eventually, and if she’d hoped for something more then she’d been just kidding herself. She had to forget that night. Forget Jack Straker. It was time to start a new life for herself, and the easiest way to do that was to forget he even existed.
CHAPTER FOUR
THE auctioneer brought his hammer down for the last lot and Clare jerked back to an awareness of her surroundings. Hastily she joined in the applause when the amount raised was announced. People had been very generous; the charity had done well. She saw Jack walk over to one of the cashiers, a cheque in his hand, and fleetingly wondered what he had bought; she’d been too absorbed in her own thoughts to notice. But her main concern now was to leave as quickly as possible, before he had a chance to approach her again.
Already there was a queue at the cloakroom for coats. Clare stood in line, impatiently tapping her foot, and retrieved hers at last. She turned to hurry away but an old school friend, Tanya Beresford, there with her husband Brian, stopped her and asked her to have lunch the following week. Clare accepted and got away as quickly as she could. But she was too late. Jack was waiting by the entrance, a coldly determined set to his face. When she saw him Clare stopped, then turned to go back inside.
‘Running away again?’ he said scathingly. ‘You seem to make a habit of it.’
‘What I do is no business of yours,’ Clare retorted icily.
‘But that’s where you’re wrong.’ Stepping forward, he took her arm in a vice-like grip. ‘It seems that you’re very much my concern.’ And he led her to where a big, chauffeur-driven car waited by the kerb. The driver opened the door and Jack pushed her inside.
‘Do you always go around being this high-handed?’ Clare demanded angrily, uncomfortably aware that some other guests had followed her out and had seen them get in the car. That little titbit would, she supposed bitterly, be in all the gossip columns tomorrow.
Jack pressed a button on the console beside his seat and a glass panel slid up between them and the driver. It was the first time he’d managed to get her alone and he’d meant to be reasonable, but all he could feel was anger at the way she’d deceived him. ‘I have tried every way possible to talk to you,’ he said shortly. ‘If you persist in refusing then I’m left with no alternative.’
‘But I don’t want to talk to you. And I insist you stop this car and let me out.’
‘You know I’m not going to, so why say it?’
Clare laughed acidly. ‘Yes, I suppose it is too much to hope that you’d ever behave with any consideration for anyone other than your egotistical self.’
Her bitterness took him aback. Jack’s eyes narrowed as he realised he had more to deal with here than he’d thought. After a moment he said, ‘Have you eaten yet? How about going somewhere for supper?’
‘No.’
‘No to which?’
Clare turned on him, her eyes full of antagonism. ‘No to anything and everything you say. I want nothing to do with you.’
Jack was not used to being talked to so rudely. His lips thinned and he said, ‘Isn’t it a bit late for that?’
Clare flushed and turned away, not wanting to be reminded of the night she’d spent with him. She’d been trying not to look at him directly, but it was hard not to remember the powerful body that was under the immaculate evening-suit, a body perfect in its masculinity. Yet again she wondered about his ex-wife, why they’d divorced. But that was nothing to do with her; she had enough to concentrate on in keeping him away from Toby.
Jack was trying to work out how to play it. Her flushed cheeks told him that she was still sensitive about their lovemaking, which surprised him;