pleasure,’ said Ben smoothly, sliding his hand into his jacket pocket, and pulling out his car keys. ‘It’s been a very pleasant evening, Maggie. I hope you’ll forgive me if I curtail it a little.’
‘Of course.’ Maggie looked unhappily at Jaime. ‘If—er—if it weren’t for Tom, you could have stayed the night.’
‘But there is Tom, isn’t there?’ Ben put in, before Jaime could say anything. ‘And Jaime takes her maternal duties very seriously, don’t you?’ His eyes challenged her to deny it. ‘So—shall we go?’
BEN’S car was the Ford Sierra, and he insisted on fetching it to the door so that Jaime could just run down the steps and get inside. It was still raining, and drops of moisture sparkled on Ben’s hair as he leaned across the passenger seat to open the door for her.
‘I’ll ring you next week,’ Maggie called, as Jaime got into the car, and she stood at the door, waving, as Ben swung the vehicle round in a half-circle and down the waterlogged drive.
It really was a filthy night. The rain was coming down in sheets, and the wipers had to work overtime to keep the windscreen clean. But it also narrowed Jaime’s world to the heated confines of the car, and she couldn’t help but be aware of Ben’s lean frame only inches from her own.
Not that Ben was showing any interest in her. His attention was focused on the road ahead, and she was annoyed with herself for allowing his presence to disconcert her in any way. He was giving her a lift home, that was all. And judging by the slickness of the road she ought to be grateful she was not having to put her safety in the hands of some untried driver.
Nevertheless, she was aware of him. Her eyes were drawn to the hands handling the wheel so expertly, and the narrow wrists that emerged from the sleeves of his jacket. Was his skin warm? she wondered, her tongue lingering at the corner of her mouth. How was he adapting to this much cooler temperature, after so many years spent in a tropical climate? That was one thing he hadn’t spoken about; that, and his wife.
She tore her eyes away, and tried to concentrate on the night outside. They were crossing the town now, and, as Dr Fellowes had said, there were plenty of people waiting for taxis. It probably would have been next to impossible to get one of them to come out to Maggie’s house during the next hour or so, and her reluctance to accept this ride seemed extremely churlish in retrospect.
‘I—didn’t know you knew Dr Fellowes,’ she murmured, feeling obliged to make some recompense, but loath to thank him outright, and Ben shrugged.
‘You don’t know much about me at all,’ he responded, and his tone was as cool as hers now. ‘Is it important?’
Jaime sighed. ‘Not—not intrinsically, no.’ She paused, and the disturbing memory of what her mother—and Tom—had said reared its ugly head again. ‘Are—are you a patient of his?’
Ben slowed at a junction, and scanned the road ahead. ‘I think that comes under the heading of a personal question,’ he replied shortly. ‘Are you?’
‘Am I what?’
‘A patient of Fellowes’.’
Jaime was confused. ‘What has that got to do with anything?’
‘Exactly.’ Ben accelerated along Gloucester Road. ‘Whether or not I’m a patient of John Fellowes has nothing to do with you.’
Jaime held up her head. ‘I—I—was—–’
‘Curious?’
‘No.’ Jaime was indignant. ‘I was—concerned.’
‘Oh, come on.’ Ben cast her a sardonic sideways glance. ‘I think I’ve got the picture of what you think of me, and “concerned” doesn’t come into it.’
‘That’s not true.’ Jaime spoke rashly, and then struggled to justify her words. ‘I mean—naturally, I’m concerned if—if you’re ill—–’
‘Because you have Tom to consider, right?’ Ben sounded bitter. ‘You don’t want him associating with me if I’m incubating some awful unsociable disease—–’
‘I never thought of that!’ Jaime gazed at him defensively. ‘I—I wouldn’t dream of stopping him associating with you, because I might think you—you—–’
‘Had Aids?’ he supplied grimly, and Jaime felt as if someone had sucked all the air from her body.
‘If—if that’s what’s wrong with you,’ she got out unsteadily, ‘I—I know you wouldn’t do anything to harm your own son.’
Ben’s lips twitched. ‘Isn’t it rich!’ he grated savagely. ‘I have to threaten to be dying before you’ll admit that Tom’s my son!’
Jaime’s throat constricted. ‘You’re—you’re not dying,’ she protested, realising how devastated she would feel if he were. ‘There—there are experiments going on, treatments you can have…’
‘If I had Aids,’ agreed Ben flatly, bringing the Sierra to a halt, and Jaime saw with some astonishment that they had stopped outside her house. She hadn’t been aware of anything for the last few minutes.
‘If you had Aids?’ she ventured blankly, and Ben gazed at her with a scornful expression.
‘Yes,’ he said evenly. ‘I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I managed to avoid contracting any real life-threatening infections while I was in Africa. You’ll have to save your dubious sympathies for some other poor sod, hmm?’
‘You—pig!’
All the pent-up emotions of the evening exploded in a sudden surge of violence, and Jaime’s hand connected heavily with his cheek. She knew it must have hurt him. Her own fingers stung quite painfully, and she was half prepared to admit she hadn’t intended to hit him quite so hard. But, before she had a chance to make any kind of apology, Ben’s hand circled the back of her neck, and he yanked her towards him.
‘If that’s the way you want to play it,’ he muttered, before his mouth met hers, and although she tried to resist him he was much, much stronger than she was.
Besides, the line between anger and desire was a fine one. Anger was passion, and the whole evening had been one of suppressed emotion, of one sort or another. When Ben took hold of her, when his hard fingers dug into her nape, and his angry mouth found hers, instinct took over. She wanted to sustain her feelings, she wanted to despise him for allowing her to even think he might be dying; but those same emotions got in the way.
His mouth on hers was so insistent, savage at first, and then achingly persuasive. His tongue against her lips was hot and wet and persistent, and, although she held out for a few moments, he eventually coaxed her lips to part.
‘We—we can’t,’ she gasped, when his tongue plunged into her mouth and she felt his hand gripping her thigh below the short skirt of her suit. ‘Ben, someone might see us!’
His
