was used to running his life the way he chose these days. It had taken him a while to get back on track after he had quit working for the NHS and he had no intention of relinquishing his autonomy ever again. Maybe he was at a disadvantage here but he still intended to be in charge of his own destiny.
Jude took another deep breath and used it this time for a specific purpose, i.e. shoring up his anger. He would start as he meant to go on. No way was he going to be ordered about by some overbearing, pushy woman!
* * *
‘I’m sorry about the delay but our usual driver didn’t show up this morning and we had to find a replacement.’ Claire Morgan glanced at her watch again and frowned. ‘The truck should have been here by now, though, so I don’t know what’s happened to it. I’ll have to check back with base and see if they’ve heard anything.’
She left the crew to begin the task of unloading the cargo and made her way over to the bike. Dr Slater had just finished roping his very expensive leather holdall onto the back and he looked round when he heard her approaching. Claire pulled the peak of her cap lower over her eyes, hating the fact that she felt it necessary to hide beneath it. She had hoped that she had got over this fear but as soon as she had seen Dr Jude Slater disembarking from the plane, her internal alarm bells had started ringing.
She knew what the problem was, of course: he reminded her of Andrew. There was something about that air of self-confidence he exuded that put her in mind of her ex so that it was an effort to carry on walking towards him. The thought of having to live with this fear gnawing away inside her for the next few months was more than she could bear, so maybe she needed to focus on the differences between the two men rather than the similarities?
It was worth a try, so Claire tested out the theory as she crossed the runway. Jude Slater was tall like Andrew, but whereas Andrew was heavily built, Jude had the lithely muscular physique of an athlete. Both men had dark hair, but Jude’s hair was jet black with the hint of a wave to it whereas Andrew’s was a rather muddy shade of brown and poker-straight. Jude’s eyes were a different colour, too, Claire realised as she drew closer—a warm hazel with flecks of gold in them. Andrew’s eyes were pale blue, very cold and frosty. In fact, if she had to choose one feature which she had disliked it would have been Andrew’s eyes. Even when they had been sharing their most intimate moments, his eyes had never held any real warmth.
Claire sighed. With the benefit of hindsight, she could see that she should have taken it as a warning but she had been too besotted at the time to read the signs properly. It was a mistake she wouldn’t make again. If she ever reached a point where she could consider having a relationship with a man again then she wouldn’t choose someone who looked like Andrew or Jude Slater, for that matter.
‘Is everything sorted out?’
‘Nearly.’ Claire’s tone was clipped as she stopped beside the motorbike. She didn’t look at him as she lifted the seat and took out the two-way radio transmitter. She had done her best—flagged up the differences—but it hadn’t helped as much as she had hoped it would. She still had this deep-seated urge to run away and hide, and it was painful to acknowledge how little progress she had made in the past two years.
‘Nearly? So do I take it there’s a problem?’ he persisted, obviously not satisfied with her less-than-fulsome reply.
Claire ignored him as she tuned the radio to the correct frequency. Although most of the rebel fighters had been driven out of the area, there were still pockets of resistance and keeping in touch with base was vital.
‘Hello!’ He stepped forward and bent to peer under the peak of her cap. ‘I asked you a question. Did you hear me?’
Claire immediately recoiled. ‘Do you mind,’ she snapped, twisting the dial this way and that in the hope that it would disguise the fact that her hands were trembling. She hated it when anyone invaded her personal space. It was a trick Andrew had used to intimidate her and even though there was no reason to think that Jude Slater was trying to do the same, she resented it. Bitterly.
‘I’m sorry. I just find it frustrating when people won’t answer a simple question.’
He stepped back, folding his arms across his chest as he leant against the fence post, but Claire knew that he had sensed her discomfort. Colour ran up her face as she bent over the radio. Nobody knew about her past. Not even her family or her friends knew what she had been through. She had been too devastated to tell them the truth, that Andrew had forced her to have sex with him, that he had raped her. Women like her—intelligent, independent women—were supposed to be able to look after themselves. They weren’t supposed to put themselves in a situation whereby something like that could happen. If they did then the consensus was that they were to blame for leading the man on.
It had taken Claire a long time to accept that she hadn’t been at fault and that it was Andrew who was the guilty party. However, she knew how fragile her confidence was and there was no way that she was going to risk undoing all her hard work. Maybe Dr Slater wasn’t cut from the same cloth but she wasn’t going to test out that theory. For the next three months she intended to keep her distance from him and, more important, make sure he kept his distance from her.
‘I need to contact base,’ she explained as coolly as she could. ‘The truck that was supposed to collect our supplies should have arrived by now and I need to find out what’s happened to it.’
‘It could have broken down en route.’ Jude shrugged when she looked at him. ‘If it’s the same vintage as this machine then I’d say it’s more than likely, wouldn’t you?’
‘It’s possible. But I drove along the route the truck would have taken on my way here and I didn’t see any sign of it—’ She broke off when the radio crackled. The reception was terrible and she winced when a series of ear-splitting shrieks erupted from the handset. Twisting the dial, she tried to find a better signal, but it was no clearer.
‘Here, let me have a go.’
He reached over and took the radio off her before she could object. He turned the dial the merest fraction and the next moment, Claire heard Lola’s voice flowing across the airwaves. He handed the handset back to her with a smile that immediately set her teeth on edge. She knew it was silly to get upset over something so trivial, but his actions smacked of condescension and it was the one thing guaranteed to rile her.
Andrew had displayed the same high-handed attitude towards her. He had treated her with a mixture of charm and contempt from the moment they had met only she had been too naive to realise it. The way he had taken over at every opportunity had seemed touchingly gallant and she had enjoyed having him take care of her. It had taken her a while to realise that there was nothing gallant about his desire to rule her life, and definitely nothing gallant about the way he had reacted when she had told him that she no longer wanted to see him. Sickness roiled inside her at the memory and she forced it down. She had nothing to fear because she wasn’t going to put herself in that position again.
‘Thank you,’ she said coldly, turning so that she could speak to Lola without having to look at Jude. ‘Hi, Lola, it’s me—Claire. I’m at the airfield and the truck hasn’t arrived. Have you heard anything?’
‘Not a word, hon. Give me a second and I’ll see if I can get hold of the driver.’
Claire waited while Lola tried to contact Ezra, the truck driver. The heat was stifling that day and she could feel sweat trickling between her shoulder blades. The boiler suit she was wearing wasn’t the most comfortable outfit in these conditions but all the women
