Mum.’
Tom tipped back his head to give her a whimsical smile, and Jaime wished she could look at her son without seeing Ben’s lazy charm in every move he made. It was such an unconscious thing. An unknowing sensuality, which made her realise why Angie Santini found her son so attractive. Funny, she had never noticed it before. Or had she simply been blocking any resemblance Tom might have to his father?
Whatever, Tom was a Russell, and there was no way she could pretend otherwise. He was his father’s son, and she knew better than to believe that Ben wouldn’t take advantage of the fact.
On Monday morning, Felix was eager to hear what she had thought of the party. ‘Quite a bash, wasn’t it?’ he exclaimed, when Jaime came into his office at his request to take dictation. ‘Lacey was quite exhausted yesterday. Which isn’t like her, but I expect it’s her condition, hmm?’
‘Probably,’ agreed Jaime, nodding, her own relief that Ben hadn’t chosen to interrupt her Sunday making her less edgy. ‘What time did it break up?’
‘Around midnight, I think,’ replied Felix, leaning back in his chair. ‘But Russell didn’t show his face, even though I know Lacey thought he might.’ He grimaced. ‘I guess we’re pretty small-town for him.’
Jaime pretended to be adjusting her notebook, but when it became apparent that something was expected of her she shrugged. ‘I—wouldn’t say that.’
‘Wouldn’t you?’ Felix regarded her consideringly. ‘Well, you’d know better than any of us, I should think.’
‘Why?’ Jaime’s indignation was not affected. ‘Why should you think that?’
‘Oh—you know.’ Felix shifted a little uneasily. ‘I mean, you have met him. I haven’t. Lacey hasn’t. It stands to reason that you know more about that family than we do.’
‘Oh.’ Jaime knew she should be appeased, but she wasn’t. ‘Well, just because I was once related to the Russells doesn’t mean I’m in their confidence. In any case, I—I imagine it’s a little early to be inviting him anywhere. Didn’t you say he hadn’t moved in yet?’
‘That’s right.’ Felix was thoughtful. ‘Yes. I’ll tell Lacey what you’ve said. I know she was disappointed he didn’t even acknowledge our invitation. But, as I pointed out to her, Ben Russell probably considers himself too good for the likes of us.’
Jaime sighed. ‘What do you want me to say, Felix?’ she demanded. ‘That he does? That he doesn’t? I don’t know, do I? Perhaps you’d better ask him.’
Felix lifted his hands in a gesture of defence. ‘All right,’ he said soothingly. ‘There’s no need to bite my head off.’ He paused. ‘You don’t think he’ll come to see you, do you?’
Jaime kept her face impassive with extreme difficulty. Felix was fishing, and she knew it. But she had no intention of discussing her private affairs with him.
‘I shouldn’t think that’s at all likely,’ she declared, not a little disturbed by her capacity for lying. Had she become so inured in deception that she automatically chose the line of least resistance? ‘I—hardly know him.’
Felix shrugged. ‘Pity,’ he remarked, picking up the first of the files lying on his desk, and studying its contents. ‘Oh, well—I suppose we’d better get on.’ He frowned. ‘Is this all the information the Drummonds have sent us? I don’t know how we’re expected to make an accurate assessment of their tax liability if they won’t provide us with copies of all their receipts.’
Jaime was relieved that Felix appeared to have abandoned his inquisition, and, applying herself to the job in hand, she put all thoughts of Ben Russell out of her mind. She had no doubt she would have plenty of time to think about him, and what he intended, in her free time. But, for the moment, she had better things to do.
And, in spite of her misgivings, it was amazing how swiftly the morning passed, when she stopped anticipating the worst. She had always enjoyed her work as Felix’s assistant, and the intricacies of tax consultancy were a never-ending source of interest. She was always amazed at the lengths to which people would go to avoid paying their taxes—and she used the term ‘avoid’ advisedly. Tax evasion was illegal. Nevertheless, some of Felix’s clients were prepared to spend a small fortune in consultancy fees just to save what Jaime considered a paltry sum. Still, it kept Haines and Partners solvent, and she wasn’t grumbling.
She drank her morning coffee with the girls who worked in the main office. They were a friendly group, and Jaime knew them well. One or two of the older women had been there longer than she had, though most of them were married, with families of their own. Happily, Felix was engaged with a client, and wasn’t around to ask any more awkward questions. Jaime was not naïve enough to think he had said all he intended to say about Ben but, for the present, he too had other things to do.
The offices of Haines and Partners were situated near the town centre. At lunchtime Jaime often walked along to the High Street and did some shopping. She seldom ate much in the middle of the day, usually making do with a sandwich to see her through. Her mother was always saying she ought to make herself a salad to take to work, but Jaime replied that she didn’t have the time. Which probably accounted for the extra inches she had such difficulty in shedding, Jaime reflected drily. It was all right Tom saying that Angie thought she looked good—if it was true. Italians liked their women shapely. Unfortunately, the current trend was towards the emaciated look, something Jaime knew she would never achieve.
Felix generally went home for lunch, but today Jaime didn’t wait to see what he was doing. At half-past twelve, she picked up her handbag and left her office, eager to escape another tête-à-tête. Besides, it was Monday, and she did have some shopping to do. If Felix needed her for anything, it would have to wait until she got back.
It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining, and for once Jaime was not wearing a coat. But she considered her oatmeal linen, with its button-through style and cream silk camisole, sufficiently businesslike, and at least her arms were covered. Felix was old-fashioned about some things, and he preferred his secretary to dress conservatively.
She came out of the building, blinking in the bright sunshine, and for a moment she didn’t recognise the man propped against the wall across the street. He was concealed by the shadows, and it wasn’t until he straightened up and came towards her that she realised who it was.
Her immediate instincts were to flee, but she knew that wouldn’t be very sensible. Besides, hadn’t she been expecting this ever since he’d left the house on Saturday evening? She ought to be grateful he had chosen to speak to her while she was on her own. He could just as easily have made his accusation in front of Tom. And then…
But she refused to contemplate the alternative. She was a long way from giving this man anything that he could hold over her. He knew nothing. He was only guessing. But she must convince him that Philip need not be involved.
Ben looked less pale today, though the ravages that the past fifteen years had wrought were still harshly evident. Nevertheless, in an open-necked denim shirt, faded jeans, and the same scuffed leather boots he had worn on Saturday night, he was still worth a second glance. His hair needed cutting, she thought peevishly, wanting to find something about him that she could disparage. But the fact remained that he had always had the ability to stir her senses, and in spite of everything that hadn’t changed.
‘Hi,’
