one precludes the other with you?’
‘Yes,’ he bit out tautly at her mockery.
‘Goodnight, Mr Dalmont. We’ll meet again?’ she drawled.
‘You can bet on it!’
‘I’m not usually a betting woman, but I’m sure that if I were I would win that bet.’
‘Little tease!’ he rasped.
Her humour faded as quickly as it had begun. ‘That’s one thing I’m not, Mr Dalmont. I’ve told you bluntly to leave me alone, you’ve chosen not to take that advice. You would be doing us both a favour, and saving yourself a lot of time, if you gave up on me now.’
‘Because you’ll never give in to me?’
‘No.’
He shrugged. ‘I’m not prepared to give up on you yet. I’ll be seeing you, Shanna.’ He ran a fingertip lightly down her cheek, lingering against her mouth, nodding confidently before going over to Henry and Janice to take his leave.
Shanna wasn’t altogether surprised at his departure from the party; he knew there was no point in pursuing her any further tonight, not when she had made her feelings more than plain. And she didn’t want to stay here any longer herself now; the verbal encounter with Rick Dalmont had opened up wounds that she knew would never get the chance to heal.
‘What did you do to him?’ Henry demanded when she joined him. ‘I’ve never known Rick to leave a party at eleven o’clock before!’
She shrugged. ‘There has to be a first time for everything.’
‘Yes, but——’
‘It may have escaped your notice,’ she taunted, ‘but Selina has gone too.’
‘She left with Gary,’ her brother dismissed. ‘She gave up once Rick returned to you. She decided it’s Gary’s lucky night instead.’
‘Bitchy!’ she smiled.
Henry grimaced. ‘Selina picks up a different man every time she comes here. I’ll have to tell Janice not to invite her again.’
‘A snob too!’ Shanna mocked.
‘Stop changing the subject,’ he scowled. ‘What did you do to make Rick leave?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Nothing?’ Henry frowned.
‘Exactly that,’ she nodded. ‘And I intend to continue doing nothing. Don’t forget to tell Janice I’ll be here for lunch tomorrow,’ she reminded lightly, intending to show him she had far from forgotten the talk she wanted to have with him.
‘She always cooks enough for an army,’ he answered vaguely.
Her brother’s air of distraction did nothing to reassure Shanna. Henry always knew what he was doing, had been a more than competent successor to their father as head of the family newspaper and magazine empire.
Poor little rich girl, Rick Dalmont had called her. He didn’t know anything about her. Until her marriage to Perry four years ago, perhaps that description would have fitted her, but marriage had matured her far beyond the spoilt girl she had been at twenty-one.
She had married Perry against her father’s wishes, something that had been hard to do considering her closeness to her single parent, her mother having died years ago. Her father had been completely against her marrying a man who risked his life for a living. But the marriage had been a success, and it had perhaps been Perry’s constant brushes with death that had speeded the process of her maturity and cherishing of the deep love they had for each other. Whatever the reason, her father had been assured of her happiness before he died two years ago. At least she had given her beloved father that, and he had been spared the pain she was still suffering, the pain of losing Perry.
No one knew or could understand the loss she felt at Perry’s death, not even those closest to her. And no one knew how she feared death for herself…
She breakfasted alone the next morning, as she had for the last six months, before tidying the apartment. Not that it needed much of that, one person didn’t make much mess, and because she and Perry had spent most of their marriage living out of suitcases she had learnt not to have too many personal possessions, so the apartment was bare of all personal imprint.
It was a new apartment since Perry’s death, the one they had used as their home-base when in London had been on the other side of town. But photographs of Perry were prominent in every room, photographs of him racing, of him winning, of the two of them together. Most of them were from before Perry’s first accident, the one that had precipitated the end of his career. A serious back injury meant the end of his career as a top racing car driver six months before his death, and she knew it had been a blow Perry had never fully recovered from. Racing had been his life, his career, and for a time he had gone wild.
Damn Rick Dalmont! She knew he was the reason for the memories. What else could she do but remember when he had pointed out so forcibly that all had not been well between Perry and herself at the time of the fatal accident? But he had been right about one thing, the fault in the marriage had been hers, not Perry’s. It was true that when a man couldn’t find satisfaction in his own bed he turned elsewhere for solace. Perry had done just that.
None of her sleepless night showed as Janice opened the door to her shortly before twelve, her expression coolly composed, looking elegant in a dress the same green of her eyes, its long-sleeved, high-necked style more provocative than a more seductive style could be.
‘I’ll never know how you do it,’ said a harassed-looking Janice, her blonde curls in disarray, a smudge of flour on her nose. ‘You always look like a fashion-plate, and I—Well, I look what I am, I suppose, a housewife.’
‘A beautiful housewife,’ Shanna smiled, kissing her sister-in-law affectionately on the cheek. ‘And I look this way because I go out to lunch,’ she laughed.
‘Hm,’ Janice acknowledged wryly. ‘Although that doesn’t explain how you still look this way when we come to your apartment for dinner too.’
‘Caterers,’ she taunted dryly.
‘You know you’re a fantastic cook,’ Janice dismissed with a sigh. ‘Well, I’d better not keep you from Peter and Susan any longer. They’re waiting for you in the lounge.’
The next few minutes were taken up with the ecstatic greetings of her young niece and nephew, although Shanna had time to realise that there was no sign in the spotlessly clean lounge of the smoky party of the night before.
Peter and Susan were five and six respectively, as alike as if they had been twins, both fair-haired and blue-eyed like their mother, although they had their father’s height and were both inclined to be serious like Henry too. But they were lovely children, and Shanna greeted them as enthusiastically as they did her.
Henry sat back in his favourite armchair and watched them with an indulgent smile on his lips, puffing away on his favourite pipe; an affectation he believed gave him a look of distinction. It just made him more endearing to Shanna. She and Henry had always been close, despite the difference in their natures, but as the time for lunch neared
