think I’m bedding your grandfather’s widow?’
‘Is that what they call it, lying bare-breasted on the open deck of a yacht? Or has she gone down to warm up that nice, big double bed for you?’
‘What’s really eating you, Grace?’ He was beginning to sound annoyed. ‘Are you jealous?’
‘Hah! Don’t be ridiculous!’ she retorted, feeling a wave of nausea wash over her. She took a deep breath to try and stave off the feeling before she went on. ‘It may surprise you to know that I don’t care what you do. Just don’t do it in my company’s time!’
‘It isn’t your company—it’s mine.’ All levity had gone from his voice. ‘And so help me, Grace, if I was in the building right now I’d come straight down to your office and take you over my knee.’
The anger trickling down the line from goodness knew how many miles away was a tangible thing in the silence that followed.
Through an imprisoning sexual tension, Grace could hear the water lapping against the side of the boat, hear the wind tugging at the rigging, a mixture of sounds confused and distorted by the ringing of a phone somewhere in another office and the deep, rhythmic sound of the photocopier on Simone’s desk.
‘I’m here to finalise a deal,’ he stressed before she could recover her vexed and wounded pride enough to deal with that last sexist remark. ‘But I’ll be back in the office next week, and then I’ll give both you and the company all the attention you need. Now, what was it you wanted?’
‘Wanted?’
‘Why did you ring me? Is there some problem?’
Trying to clear her head, Grace only then remembered that Corinne had telephoned her, whether to make her jealous, or in some weird, sadistic way to see how she would cope having her private emotions discussed in front of Seth, she wasn’t sure.
‘Yes,’ she breathed, so humiliated now that she didn’t care if she did ruin his week, wanting to make things as difficult and as painful for him as he was making them for her in being with Corinne. That was impossible, though, she thought, because nothing could hurt him as much as she was hurting as she spat out bitterly, ‘I’m pregnant!’
THE phone she slammed down started ringing almost immediately, and even without checking the number on the display Grace knew it would be Seth.
When she didn’t pick it up, it continued to ring, a shrill insistence that cut through her tension, causing the embryo of a pain to start throbbing on either side of her temples. At last the ringing stopped.
Good; let him stew! she thought, gritting her teeth against her headache and her suffocating misery. But instantly the phone started ringing again.
When she didn’t respond this time, the merciful seconds’ silence that followed was immediately broken by her mobile phone ringing in her bag on the shelf behind her desk.
Grabbing the bag, she found the phone with fingers that shook, and with more than a degree of unusual force switched it off.
She couldn’t—wouldn’t—give him the satisfaction of venting his frustrations on her now. If she was going to have to suffer all over again for her stupidity in going to bed with him, then he was going to as well, she agonised with bitter tears stinging her eyes just as a call came through on her internal line.
‘What is it?’ She knew the answer even before she heard the receptionist’s harassed response.
‘It’s Mr Mason. He’s on line one. He’s having difficulty getting through to your office.’
‘Tell Mr Mason I’m not taking any calls.’
There was a brief hesitation. ‘I can’t do that.’ Grace could almost feel the girl’s horror at even being asked to contemplate contradicting their new chief executive.
‘Then tell him I’m out,’ Grace instructed, her mouth tightening at the sway Seth held over what had been her grandfather’s and then her staff.
‘I can’t do that either.’ The disembodied voice sounded even more diffident. ‘He already knows you aren’t.’
Feeling sorry for the girl and not wanting to put her in an awkward position, Grace grabbed her coat and, imparting a resolute, ‘Well, I am now!’ she made a hurried exit from the building.
It was wet and murky outside and cold needles of rain stung her face, as she’d left her umbrella in the office. The bare trees around the square she turned into looked like dark shadows of their former selves, and even the houses and shops looked dreary and left-over now that the festive season was gone.
She needed to get out, she told herself in an attempt to justify dropping everything and making her escape from the office, a thing which under normal circumstances she would never even have considered. But these weren’t normal circumstances, were they?
The fact of her pregnancy had still scarcely sunk in when Corinne’s call had come through, and the woman had made those very personal remarks about her—in front of Seth. Only Grace hadn’t known that Seth was with Corinne up until that point. Until then she had simply been wondering how she was going to tell him about her pregnancy.
Anger and jealousy tore at her as she thought about him with Corinne; imagined them lying on the sun deck of that yacht, limbs entwined, pale skin yielding to the sinewy strength of dark bronze.
What would it matter to him that she was carrying his child? She was a woman of the world—or so he thought. Women of the world could handle little set-backs in their lives like unwanted pregnancies, particularly if they weren’t in love with the child’s father. And she wasn’t in love with him, was she? she asked herself fiercely. How could she be with a man who could treat her so badly? Who was determined to make her pay for the way she had treated him when she’d been a spoilt teenager, no matter what the cost?
The blast of a van’s horn brought her up sharply as she made to cross the busy road, and she jumped back onto the pavement, berating herself for jeopardising not only her own life but her unborn baby’s too.
She wasn’t a woman of the world. She would have this baby and she would bear the consequences, she determined grittily. It was just that it was going to be so humiliating, facing Seth.
She hadn’t planned to shout it down the phone at him. But she had been so mortified when she’d realised he must have heard the things Corinne had been saying that she hadn’t been able to help herself, knowing he must surely think her a wimp—besotted with him! And, if he found out that she had conceived after her rash behaviour with him last time, he’d think her even more of a fool now.
Which she was, she reminded herself with unsparing criticism. Not only for being weak-willed enough to let him break down all her defences, which had led to her winding up in bed with him, but for not even considering that she might not be adequately protected when she had vowed all those years ago that she would never let any man affect her enough for anything like this to happen again. And now here she was, eight years on, older but certainly no wiser. Not only in the same situation, but with the same man!
