work where they can and are glad of it. Tristans is no exception. Under the circumstances, the risk of offending your delicate sensibilities had to be discounted. I hope that precious little ego of yours will survive?’
She took a deep breath. ‘So—it’s all a coincidence. But the carpeting for all these units you plan to build didn’t have to come from Caswells. You could have stayed away from here.’
‘And we still might,’ Jason said bitingly. ‘We have other firms to see besides this one. No orders have been placed, or contracts signed—yet.’
‘We shan’t be going on our knees to you.’ The palms of her hands felt damp, and she had to resist an impulse to run them betrayingly down her skirt.
‘Oh, I’m sure that goes for you, my sweet, and possibly your uncle. But not his fellow directors. They’re gratifyingly eager to do business with us—even to the extent of rushing this new wonder fibre of yours into production.’ He looked round him rather grimly. ‘Perhaps you should come out of your cosy little kitchen occasionally, and see what’s happening in the real world.’
‘Thanks, but I think I know,’ she said tautly. She had her bag firmly gripped now, but he was still blocking her path. ‘Will you excuse me please? I—I have to go …’
‘Why?’ he asked. ‘We’ve confronted each other at last, and neither of us has been turned to stone, so why run away?’
‘I’m not running,’ she denied hastily. ‘But I do have other things to do—a hairdressing appointment for one …’
‘Ah.’ His grey eyes gave one swift disparaging glance at the tawny hair, pulled back from her face and confined at the nape of her neck, for coolness and ease while she was working, by an elastic band. ‘It’s time you abandoned the schoolgirl look, Laura. You’re a grown-up lady now. Or doesn’t marriage and divorce confer any kind of maturity?’ He ignored her infuriated gasp, and went on. ‘But I’m sure you can spare a moment or two from your crowded schedule to join us in the boardroom for coffee. My colleagues want to congratulate you on the meal.’
‘That’s kind of them, but I prefer to take it as read.’ Laura took another shaky breath. ‘You say our paths have to cross. Jason. Well I don’t believe that’s necessary at all. If today could be cancelled, then I’d wipe it out without a second thought.’
‘Not very civilised of you, darling.’
‘I don’t feel particularly civilised,’ Laura snapped. ‘And don’t call me that.’
He lifted one shoulder in a shrug. ‘What would you prefer to be called then? Mrs Wingard?’
‘No.’ The small sound was expelled from her in a kind of agony. ‘Not that—ever again. The first thing I did when the decree was made final was revert to my maiden name.’
‘How said for you that it can only be in name,’ he said softly. He looked at her bare left hand. ‘All traces of me removed except one. Did you sell your ring for scrap?’
‘I gave it to Oxfam.’ It was a lie. She’d considered that, but in the end, she’d hidden it at the bottom of her trinket drawer. It was a decision she hadn’t been able to rationalise even at the time, and the last thing she wanted was to have to think about it again now.
‘Very public spirited of you,’ he approved sardonically, and she felt a dull flush rise in her cheeks. ‘What a pity you can’t dispose of me quite so easily.’
‘I thought I had,’ Laura said shortly. She lifted her chin. ‘I’d like to leave now please. And I imagine those colleagues of yours will be starting to wonder where you are.’
He grinned suddenly, and she felt tension break out all over her like porcupine quills. ‘I’m sure kind Uncle Martin will enlighten them. He was even less pleased to see me than you are if that’s possible.’
‘And that surprises you?’
‘No,’ Jason said. ‘But then there’s very little about the Caswell family that could surprise me any more.’ He moved, straightening his shoulders, and Laura felt herself recoil. He saw it, and stopped, the grey eyes narrowing glacially as they surveyed her. ‘But I still seem to have the ability to surprise you,’ he said half to himself. ‘How interesting. Perhaps some further research is called for.’
She said hoarsely, reading his purpose in his face, ‘You dare lay one finger on me, and …’
‘You’ll do what? Scream for your uncle?’ He shook his head slowly. ‘Not this time, darling. He’s too busy chasing a contract to hear you.’ As he spoke, he walked forward, until he was only inches away from her. There was a row of units right behind her, and nowhere to retreat to. Besides, it suddenly seemed a matter of honour to stand her ground, as if this unwanted proximity didn’t concern her one bit, although her breathing had become painful and even difficult.
Jason’s hand touched the nape of her neck, his fingers stroking the smooth skin. Her mouth went dry, and her hands clenched into fists at her sides.
‘This thing,’ Jason said softly, ‘is an obscenity.’ The elastic band was tugged from her hair, not gently, and the soft tawny strands fell round her face. It was all she could do not to cry out. She found herself wondering absurdly where the waitresses had got to. Surely they would be back at any moment. Surely …
She’d cried a lot of tears and spent many sleepless nights, trying to forget how it had once been between Jason and herself, and she thought she had succeeded.
Now, the first seeking warmth of his mouth on hers told her that she was wrong, and every fibre of her being whimpered in shock.
She stood rigidly, resisting the practised sensual teasing of his mouth, the warm coaxing of his tongue against the unrelenting contours of her lips. Pain armoured her against response, and she was grateful for it, because it could have been so tempting to let the past slide away, and with it the icy restraint she’d imposed on herself.
Sex was the great betrayer. It made your body impose on your mind. It robbed you of reason and commonsense. It made you believe there could be ‘happy ever after’, and Laura wanted no more of it.
But she wasn’t prepared for this gentleness in him, and it bewildered her. She almost wished he’d shown her some of the brutality of their last time together. It would have provided a focus for her hatred, for her disgust.
This insidious probing at her senses was less easy to fight, and it made her afraid, because the memories it evoked were not of anger or bitterness and accusation, but of their early days together, and all the promise of them.
A promise which Jason had cynically and blatantly broken. That was what she had to remember—all she had to remember. Nothing else mattered—no laughter-filled days, or passion-warmed nights. No moments when she’d wondered crazily why she’d been chosen to be so lucky.
Because ultimately and heartbreakingly, there’d been no luck about it. She was simply Laura Caswell, a girl who had been married for her money. Not the first one to find herself in that situation, and certainly not the last.
The thoughts ran wildly in her brain, bolstering her against the first slow, sweet stirring of the senses which Jason’s kiss was inevitably arousing. He’d taught her to want him, to want the pleasure which his mouth and hands and body could give her, and her
