of his glass. ‘Has it never occurred to you that you might be wrong about all this?’
Hundreds, thousands of times, but wishful thinking didn’t stand up when confronted by harsh reality. She would never forget the churning of her stomach when she had made that call to Germany, or the sickening feeling when the hotel receptionist had put her through to Taylor’s room and the bright, fluttery voice of Tanya had answered. ‘No.’ She swallowed. It was hard to lie with his eyes on her. ‘I might be a fool but I’m not certifiable.’
‘I see.’ He set down his drink and then steepled his fingers, his gaze never leaving her face for a moment. ‘Then we won’t waste any more time tonight discussing it. Drink your cocktail.’ And he smiled the smile which lit up his face. The rat. The low-down, cheating, lying, philandering rat.
Marsha stared at him, the misery she had been feeling replaced by a healthy dose of anger. How dared he sit there smiling like the cat with the cream when he had all but destroyed her eighteen months ago? Without taking her eyes from his, she set her glass down with a little touch of defiance. ‘Is Tanya still working for you?’ she asked baldly. He was not going to dictate what they discussed and what they didn’t, not after kidnapping her!
‘Of course.’ He undid his dinner jacket as he spoke, slipping it off and slinging it across the room to another sofa, before loosening his tie so it hung in two thin strands on either side of his throat.
‘Of course.’ She put a wealth of sarcasm into her voice.
He picked up his glass again, draining it before he added, ‘But only for the next month or so, unfortunately. I shall be sorry to lose her; she’s a damn good secretary and they don’t grow on trees.’
‘She’s leaving you?’ Marsha raised fine eyebrows in what she hoped was a mocking expression. ‘Dear, dear. A better offer?’
‘Not exactly.’ He stood up, moving across to her and handing her her glass again. ‘Drink up. There’s time for another before Hannah calls us through, and I’ve ordered a taxi for later.’
She accepted the glass simply because she felt she needed the fortifying effect the alcohol would have on her nerves. It tasted heavenly, but Hannah had always been able to mix a mean cocktail. After two sips, she said, ‘If it’s not a better offer, why is she going?’ Lovers’ tiff?
‘She’s having a baby at the end of September.’
Marsha drank deeply, using the action as an excuse to break the force of his eyes on hers. ‘Thank you.’ She held out the empty glass with a brittle smile. ‘That was lovely.’
‘Wasn’t it?’ he murmured softly. He strolled over to the cocktail cabinet, his movements easy.
Marsha wondered whether Hannah would support her if she demanded to leave. So this was why he had made the move after all this time? Tanya was pregnant. By him? The pain which sliced through her was too severe to continue down that path, so she brushed the possibility aside until she could consider it when she was alone.
‘I think her husband wants a little girl; he has two boys from a previous relationship,’ Taylor continued with his back to her as he poured two more drinks. ‘But I guess all that matters in the long run is that the child is healthy.’
She sat very still as he turned and walked back to her, accepting the drink from him with a slight inclination of her head. So Tanya was married? When had that happened? The other woman had been a Miss when she had left Taylor. Had Tanya been seeing Taylor as well as the man who was now her husband at the time of the Germany trip? Did her husband know she had been more than just a secretary to Taylor at one time? A hundred questions were buzzing in her head, but she couldn’t ask any of them.
She raised her head as Taylor took the chair he had vacated, and for a moment her gaze met his. Her breath caught for a second at the look in his eyes. It was brief, and instantly veiled, but for a moment she had seen the inner man, the man she had known in the intimacy of their bed. The vital, vigorous, dynamic lifeforce which was Taylor, a force which let nothing and no one stand in the way of something he wanted. It was this magnetic power which had made her flee that night eighteen months ago, before he had had a chance to convince her that black was white, before that dark, dangerous energy of his reached out and smothered all rational thought and sense.
Contrary to what she’d expected, Taylor said nothing more as they sat and sipped their drinks in a silence which was fairly shrieking. The rich scents from the garden were drifting into the room on the warm breeze and a summer twilight was beginning to fall. The sounds of the birds as they began to settle down for the night and the drone of lazy insects about their business were the only intrusion.
Marsha resisted glancing Taylor’s way. She could feel he was watching her, his long lean body stretched out indolently in a very masculine pose, the amber eyes hooded and intense. He hadn’t moved a muscle, and yet the very air around them had become sensuous and coaxing. He could do that, she thought crossly, willing herself not to fidget in spite of the ripples of sexual awareness which had caused her nipples to flower and harden and her mouth to become dry. He could seduce by his very presence alone, and it was galling to have to recognise that his power over her body was just the same as it had always been.
She stared into her cocktail glass, determined it wouldn’t be her who would break the silence. And she wouldn’t mention Tanya West—or whatever her name was now—again either. Pregnant… The rush of emotion was so strong she had to purposely relax her fingers or risk breaking the stem of the glass. There had been a time when she had ached to have Taylor’s baby, and it had only been his insistence that they have some time enjoying each other together first that had prevented her from stopping taking the Pill. Of course she hadn’t been aware that Taylor was busy ‘enjoying’ other women too, she reflected sourly.
A minor commotion in the garden involving a great deal of frenzied squawking brought Taylor out of his chair in one smooth, fluid movement. To Marsha’s absolute bewilderment, he bent down behind a sofa close to the open French doors, re-emerging a second later with what looked like a child’s water gun.
‘Taylor?’ The question she’d been about to put to him was lost in the furore as he leapt out into the garden, firing as he went in a very personable imitation of James Bond. A moment later a loud yowl was added to the hubbub in the garden.
‘Got him.’ As Marsha joined Taylor outside, curiosity having got the better of her, he turned to her, satisfaction written all over his handsome face. ‘A couple more soakings and he’ll get the message.’
‘Who will get what message?’
‘The neighbourhood tom. He’s after the resident blackbird’s fledglings in one of the yews. The water doesn’t hurt him, but it sure as hell dents his pride when he skulks off like a drowned rat. Any day now and his male ego will acknowledge he can’t take any more of this.’
And Taylor would know all about male ego. Marsha was about to voice the thought when a blackbird sailed by their heads in what looked suspiciously like a victory dance. Taylor called after it, ‘Right on, buddy! He doesn’t stand a chance.’
This was the man who had started and built up a multi-million-pound business before he was thirty. Marsha felt she knew what Alice had felt like in Wonderland.
‘Listen.’ As she went to speak Taylor moved his head on one side, listening intently.
‘What?’ she whispered. ‘Is the cat back?’
‘No.’
