two-fifteen,’ she reminded her sharply.
‘So Gloria will have a moan at me for being late.’ Her sister seemed unworried. ‘She knows I’m the best stylist she has.’
‘Ex-stylist, if you don’t stop messing her about,’ Sian warned. ‘You were late this morning too.’
‘I needed those denims. And they weren’t ironed.’
‘I’ve already told you I haven’t had time to do the ironing yet—’
‘Sian, don’t you ever regret being a slave to Daddy and me?’ Bethany frowned. ‘You’ve been taking care of us for the last eight years, and you never moan or complain.’
Sian’s smile was tight. ‘I didn’t realise I was a slave, I thought I did it because we’re family.’
Bethany stood up to hug her. ‘We are,’ she smiled. ‘But don’t you ever feel like a break? Don’t you ever want to just say “to hell with you” and just leave?’
‘When you were an audacious little brat of thirteen I felt like it a lot of times,’ Sian laughed as Bethany blushed. ‘But I’ve never really considered leaving you and Daddy.’ She was suddenly serious. ‘Mummy—well, she expected me to take care of you both.’
‘But you were only fourteen yourself. Didn’t you—’
‘Bethany,’ she interrupted patiently, ‘Gloria may be very forbearing where you’re concerned—and that may be because you’re her best stylist,’ she mocked gently. ‘But—’
‘Who does your hair for you!’
‘You do,’ Sian laughed as her sister rose to her bait. ‘But even Gloria has her breaking point. You’re going to be at least half an hour late already.’
Bethany grimaced. ‘And I have Mrs Jones’s blue rinse to do,’ she groaned.
‘So much for a client’s secrets!’
Her sister laughed. ‘Careful, or I’ll tell everyone about that grey hair I found amongst all that red last week!’
‘It was blonde,’ Sian pretended indignation.
‘If you say so,’ Bethany taunted. ‘As you pulled it out we’ll never know—until you get two grown back in its place, that is.’
‘Get back to work!’ Sian laughed.
‘I’m going, I’m going,’ Bethany picked up a magazine and handed it to Sian. ‘I found that magazine with the article about Jarrett in,’ and she hurriedly left the room, running down the stairs, and the roar of the Mini’s engine soon told Sian her sister was on her way back into town.
She held the magazine in her hands for long timeless minutes without looking at it. She was afraid to look at it! And she was afraid of Bethany’s single-minded interest in Jarrett; she knew better than anyone how he could hurt her young sister with his cruelty and indifference to anyone’s wishes but his own.
Finally she had to look at the magazine article; she couldn’t stop herself any longer, her breath catching in her throat at the familiar figure in the photograph, the long muscled legs, the lean thighs only just covered by the green bathing trunks, the taut stomach and powerful chest, the whole of his body deeply tanned, his chest covered with a fine sheen of dark blond hair. Lastly she looked at his face—a face little changed, the jaw still as determined, his mouth still as forceful, sensually so, his nose long and hawkish, jutting out below deeply green eyes surrounded by thick dark lashes, his brows the same dark blond, a startling contrast to the sun-bleached fairness of his hair. Bethany was right, Jarrett was devastating, although she wondered at the cynicism in his eyes, the lines of decadence beside his nose and mouth. He obviously hadn’t spent the last three years longing for Swannell—or anyone in it.
She read the article with the picture, of how his uncle had died several months ago and he was now in complete control of the King Construction Company, of how he intended extending the company more in England.
A sudden panicky thought entered Sian’s mind. Suppose he was coming to Swannell with that purpose in mind? Suppose—No, the King office in Swannell had long since closed up; Jarrett’s move to America had forced that decison. He must just be coming here out of curiosity’s sake, to see the town that had once been his home, the town that had been his stepping-stone to the multi-millionaire he now was.
She forced herself to read the rest of the article, getting lost in the maze of assets that King Construction had, although the cryptic comment at the end of the article puzzled her somewhat. Obviously it was one of those ‘in’ magazines, the type that thought you already knew the life history of its victim, and the mention of some woman called Arlette meant nothing to her. ‘And while the more than attractive Mr King is in his native England, the lonely Arlette will be cooling her heels in New York as she waits for his return. If I were Mr King I would want the lovely Arlette with me!’ came the reporter’s personal comment.
Arlette. She didn’t need to be told that this was the latest woman in Jarrett’s life; it was all too obvious. She would be beautiful, of course, would have the sophistication and raw sensuality that he liked. God, that he demanded!
Sian threw the magazine down on the bed in disgust, going determinedly down the stairs. She had wasted enough time thinking about Jarrett for one day, she doubted he would waste a minute of his valuable time thinking of the naïve teenager he had left behind him without a qualm.
It was already after three o’clock, she would have to hurry if she was to do the housework before she went back to the surgery. She hated being rushed, and inwardly blamed Jarrett King for upsetting her routine. Everyone in Swannell knew he had made a success of his life—did he have to come back and flaunt it!
She arrived back at the surgery with only a minute to spare, smiling at Chris as he came out to speak to her. He was a very handsome man, with unruly dark curls that he kept short, laughing blue eyes that could be stormy with emotion, with a tall athletic body, and he enjoyed all sports; he and Sian often challenged each other to a game of tennis—which she usually lost.
Chris and his family had come to Swannell almost three years ago, and Chris had been in partnership with Martin Cross for most of that time. Their veterinary practice was very successful.
It had been Chris’s love and gentleness with the animals he treated that had first attracted her to him, although it had taken him some time to persuade her to even go out with him. Now she wore his ring, her admiration for him having turned to love during the year they had been dating.
He bent to kiss her lightly on the lips, the door still firmly locked against the public. ‘Have a good afternoon, love?’
‘A bit hectic’ She put all thought of Jarrett King from her mind, feeling it was disloyal to Chris to even think of another relationship she had had in the past when she was engaged to marry him. ‘And you?’ she smiled.
‘Fine,’ he nodded, sitting on the edge of her desk. ‘Feel like going out to dinner tonight?’
Her brows rose. ‘What are we celebrating?’
‘Nothing,’ he smiled, looking boyish despite his thirty years. Sian had to resist the impulse to smooth back the unruly lock of dark hair from his forehead. ‘You’re looking beautiful,
