to make that journey tonight—Jermaine rang his home. Ash answered. She put the phone down without speaking. What was the point?
It was just after four when the phone on her desk rang. Jermaine was glad that she again had the office to herself—her caller was Lukas Tavinor.
She did not thank him for returning her call, but in less than a second went from standing still into furious orbit. ‘How dare you descend on my parents?’ she blazed. ‘How dare…’
‘You have my address?’ Obviously a very busy man, he chopped her off mid-rant, and Jermaine hated him with a vengeance. This arrogant pig of a man, this overbearing, odious rat, was totally confident she would be going to his home that night. She was too choked with rage to speak. ‘Or perhaps you’d prefer me to call for you on my way home,’ he suggested smoothly.
Jermaine took a deep and semi-controlling breath. ‘I’ll make my own way!’ she snapped. ‘Where do you live?’
She hated him afresh, because there was a smile in his voice as he gave her directions. And she wasn’t sure, had he been near, that she wouldn’t have hit him, when, silkily, he added, ‘Don’t forget your nightie and a toothbrush.’
Jermaine slammed the phone down. What a skunk! She wasn’t staying that long. A quick look at Edwina so she could truthfully tell her parents that Edwina had ‘fully recovered’, then she would be back in her car and on her way. She would be sleeping in her own bed that night.
Events, however, transpired against her. She was ten minutes away from leaving her desk to go home to grab a quick bite to eat—no way was she going to dine at that man’s table—when Chris Kepple, one of her favourite executives, phoned in asking her if she could get a quote and some brochures out that night.
‘I’m sorry to drop it on you this late, but I’ve been with my client all day and I wouldn’t like him to feel our efficiency is any less brilliant than he’s sure it is. You can scold me the next time you see me,’ he promised.
Jermaine laughed. ‘I’ll hold you to that,’ she answered, and took down the details of his day’s business and got on with it. She eventually finished her day’s work at seven-thirty, and was halfway to her flat before she unwound sufficiently from that last couple of hectic hours to consider she might have done better to have driven straight to Hertfordshire. It was a foul night—wind, rain, storm and tempest—and she could have been part way there by now.
Rain lashed the windows as she stood in her kitchen eating a hasty sandwich and drinking a quick cup of coffee. She still had not the smallest intention of staying overnight at Highfield but, just in case she hadn’t found the place by midnight and had to put up at some hotel, she tossed a few things in an overnight bag and went out to her car.
The rain had lessened as Jermaine headed her car in the direction of Hertfordshire. She drove along reflecting that, for the sake of her parents’ peace of mind, she was going to have to fulfil this wild goose chase—and realising that no matter how late she got there she would have to telephone them; they were waiting for her call.
Rain began again before she was anywhere near to Highfield. Deluging down thick and fast, too fast for it to drain quickly away from the country roads on which she was travelling. The result being that she had to check her speed and cautiously make her way.
She mutinied against her sister, she mutinied against Ash Tavinor, but most of all she mutinied against Lukas Tavinor, who that day had had the unmitigated effrontery to go and see her parents.
By the time Jermaine eventually came to Highfield she was not very taken with any of its inhabitants. This was ridiculous, totally ridiculous. There was nothing in the world the matter with Edwina. Nothing at all. It was only because of wretched sisterly loyalty, Jermaine fumed, that she had been unable to tell anybody about it. That Edwina did not feel the same loyalty to her, or she would never have made a play for Ash, didn’t seem to alter anything. Jermaine sighed. Stupid though she knew it was, she couldn’t help remaining loyal to Edwina.
Highfield, as its name suggested, was built on highish ground, and as Jermaine steered her way she was glad to find there were no more stretches of water to negotiate around; all water was running downhill.
Her feeling of mutiny against the house’s occupants dipped slightly when she noticed that someone had left the porch lights on, as if to guide her. She studied the stone façade of the elegant old building; she found it truly quite lovely.
But this would never do. Giving herself a mental shake, Jermaine left her car and sprinted for cover from the torrential downpour. Under the cover of the stone-pillared porch, she rang the doorbell. She was not kept waiting very long.
Lukas Tavinor himself pulled back the stout front door and for several seconds just stood looking at her. But Jermaine had had enough of this. He might be tall, he might be dark, he might be good-looking, but rain was pelting in at her and she did not want to be here anyway.
‘You want a discussion on your doorstep?’ she questioned disagreeably, and disliked him some more when she actually thought she saw his lips twitch. If he was laughing at her she’d…
‘Where’s your case?’ he asked.
Jermaine, confused that he might be laughing at her, angry at him and this whole wretched business, and having fallen instantly in love with his house, found she was telling him, ‘It’s in my car.’
In the next second she had got herself into more of one piece, but by then he was ushering over his threshold while telling her, ‘I’ll get it later. Come in out of this rain.’
The inside lived up to the outside, all lush warm wood panelling hung with various oil paintings. But as she stood there while Tavinor closed the door Jermaine reminded herself that she wasn’t here on any pleasure trip, and her case, in this instance her overnight bag, was staying exactly where it was—in her car.
‘Where’s Edwina?’ Jermaine questioned promptly. Get this over with and she was out of here.
‘In the drawing room.’
She’d managed to drag herself out of bed, then? Though, of course, since Lukas Tavinor and his bank balance were what Edwina cared about, she’d hardly be likely to ensnare him while hiding herself away in bed.
‘You’ve told Edwina I was coming?’ Jermaine asked as he escorted her along the hall.
She was looking at him as he glanced to her and shook his head. ‘I thought we’d give her a nice surprise,’ he answered blandly, so blandly that for a fleeting moment Jermaine had an uncanny kind of feeling that this clever man staring down at her so mildly had seen through Edwina. Had seen through her and was on to all her wiles.
Oh, heavens! Though before she could blush from the embarrassment of thinking that Edwina was making a fool of herself, Jermaine countered any such idea. Men fell for Edwina like ninepins. Lukas Tavinor might be clever in business, but he was a man, wasn’t he? Besides which there was nothing in his expression now to so much as hint that he knew Edwina was playing to the gallery.
Then he was opening the drawing room door. How cosy! There was Edwina, feet up on the sofa. There was Ash…Though, come to think of it, Jermaine had seen him looking happier.
‘Jermaine!’
It was not her sister who exclaimed her name but Ash, as he beamed a smile at her and hurried over. ‘You came!’ he cried, and appeared
