Irresistible Temptation (19 page)

His body might have responded, he acknowledged ruefully. But it would have been no more than a conditioned reflex, his mind and emotions totally disengaged.

And she didn't deserve to be used. She was worth far more than that.

He had felt her puzzlement as she'd chatted, softly and huskily, watching him from under her lashes. Wondering why he didn't move closer—touch her—kiss her.

The shock in her face when he'd got abruptly to his feet, apologising, offering the lame excuse of an early-morning meeting, would haunt him, he thought grimly. Then pride, thankfully, had come to her rescue, and she'd covered well, smiling, agreeing that it was getting late, and that she had a full day coming up too.

He'd got out of the flat somehow, sparing her the insult of the casual goodnight kiss which would only have added to her deserved sense of injury.

When he'd accepted her invitation he'd known what the score was. The bargain had been made—and then, too late, he'd reneged on it.

He knew without pleasure or conceit that Claudia would be shattered—humiliated by his behaviour. What he'd done was unforgivable, and he could never excuse or explain it either to her or to himself.

What the hell's wrong with me? he demanded explosively. Am I going crazy?

He'd felt on edge, restless all day. He'd decided first thing that he'd get out of London, and had phoned some old friends who lived near Maidenhead, inviting himself to lunch. But even a relaxed day at Charles and Tess's comfortable cluttered house, and the pleasure of playing with his young godson hadn't worked its usual miracle.

'It's time you got married and had kids of your own,' Tess had chided as he'd sat at the kitchen table, turning the business section of the
Sunday Times
into a paper hat for the baby tucked into the crook of his arm. 'Are you seeing anyone?'

'Now and then.' He'd pulled a laughing face at her.

'And is it serious?' She'd been in bulldog mode, refusing to let go.

'Maybe,' he'd returned lightly. 'I'll keep you posted.'

'I won't hold my breath.'

As he'd driven home he'd reflected that she was probably right, and that Claudia, maybe, could be the one after all. Perhaps he was a fool to wait any longer. To hope for the sudden stunning realisation that here was the woman he'd been waiting for all his life, and that he would want no other.

In these uncertain times it could be that a level of physical attraction coupled with the same interests was a safer basis for a lasting relationship.

And then he'd thought of his parents. Seen in his mind's eye his mother's shy, mischievous smile when her husband looked at her in a particular way, even after all their years together, and he had known he'd settle for nothing less.

But was that why he'd behaved like the biggest bastard in the Western world and left Claudia hurt and bewildered?

God only knows, he thought wearily. Because I don't.

He was still racked by the same feelings of uncertainty and self-disgust when he arrived, later than usual, at work the next day.

As he walked into the office, Olivia swung round from her desk and looked at him. She was pale, her eyes wide and serious, her hair dragged unbecomingly back from her face and confined at the nape of her neck by a tortoiseshell clip.

And he knew in a sudden blinding moment of self-revelation why he hadn't stayed with Claudia last night Realised he wanted to walk across the room and pull her hair loose, lifting the soft silky strands to his lips, burying his face in the curve of her shoulder and breathing the delicate fresh scent of her skin.

And that he would want to do that for the rest of his life. Because there was no one else in the world who could fill his heart and make him complete.

The shock of it seemed to drive all the breath out of his lungs, and he found himself suddenly leaning against the frame of the door because he was shaking inside, and terrified that his legs wouldn't support him.

'Are you all right?' She was getting to her feet. If she came across the room to him he'd be lost.

'Hangover,' he lied, in a voice he barely recognised. 'Hold my calls for a bit, would you?'

The men's room was deserted. He filled the basin with cold water, splashing it across his wrists and onto his face.

When, eventually, he raised his head and looked at himself in the mirror, his face was haggard, his mouth harsh and set.

I laid the bait, he thought with anguish. I set the trap— and now I'm caught in it myself. And she doesn't give a damn about me. She's still caught up with that worthless piece of trash.

And—somehow—I have to live with that. If I can.

When Declan did not return to the office, Olivia realised he'd gone straight into his scheduled meeting.

He must have been on one hell of a bender, because he'd looked really ill, she thought with a pang, although, admittedly, his condition didn't deserve that much sympathy.

He'd looked at her as if he didn't recognise her. Almost as if he'd forgotten she'd taken Kim's place.

She wondered if it was the aftermath of her birthday which had prompted Him to drink too much. If he might have regretted his attempt at seduction and been angered by her rejection of his advances.

But she couldn't really believe that. He wouldn't take it that seriously, she told herself. He'd just shrug it off with one of his crooked grins. Phone another lady on the list.

Meanwhile she had, she hoped, got things more into perspective herself. Home was a healing place, she thought, and the rawness in her heart had been assuaged somewhat by her parents' open delight in seeing her.

She'd had to act her socks off, pretending that everything in the garden was roses, however. She'd talked brightly about her job, and the television personalities she'd already met through it Described her flat and, with affection, Sasha, but spoken of her plans to move. And she hadn't once mentioned Declan.

'So what did you do yesterday, darling?' her mother had asked eagerly. 'Have you met someone nice?'

'No one serious,' Olivia had said, reflecting that it was no more than the truth.

After lunch, she'd gone for a long walk with the dog, so that she could think.

Firstly, she'd decided, she would have to try and put things right with Jeremy. London had obviously gone to his head a little, and she couldn't blame him for that, but when the novelty wore off, and he'd calmed down a little, she would be waiting for him, she told herself resolutely.

They both had things to forgive each other for, but maybe it would make their relationship stronger in the end.

It had all been good, positive stuff, and she only wished she could feel more cheerful about it.

As for Declan, she'd thought, biting her lip until she'd tasted blood, he was simply a charmer who enjoyed women, and there was no need to take anything that had happened between them seriously. He couldn't resist flirting, or going further if he was encouraged, and she'd be a fool to let it get to her, or allow this stupid crush on him to develop any further.

I'm no better than those autograph-hunters, she'd told herself. I need to forget the fantasy and concentrate on what's real in my life.

She'd come to work, armed with that determination, and then she'd seen Declan in the doorway, staring at her as if she were a ghost, and found herself crucified by an impulse to go to him and hold him until the nightmare in his head vanished.

Except I could be the nightmare, she realised sadly. And if it's true, I cannot bear to know.

And, on that thought, she resolved to go on to Stage B of her plan.

'You're leaving?' Sasha's voice rose in astonishment 'But, darling, why?'

'Louise in Accounts has a flatmate who's getting married. And I'd be sharing with three others.' Olivia smiled resolutely. 'At the moment I feel a bit isolated.'

'Yes,' Sasha said distractedly. 'I can see that But I thought… Well, never mind that. Where is this flat?'

'Wandsworth. Louise took me to see it in my lunch-hour. It's an older house, with really big rooms.'

Sasha nodded. 'When do you want to move out?'

'The wedding's in three weeks but I can move in the week before.' Olivia hesitated. 'But I don't want to leave you in the lurch.'

'You won't,' Sasha said briskly. 'Tenants come and go, and there's usually another waiting in the wings. I often think my basement is something of a rite of passage—a staging post in the search for a real life. But I didn't think you'd find yours in Wandsworth.'

'You make it sound like the Gobi Desert,' Olivia said, amused in spite of herself.

'Wait until you've lived there for a while,' Sasha said darkly. She gave a little sigh. 'Humph and I will miss you. Promise you'll keep in touch.'

'Yes, of course,' Olivia said awkwardly, not knowing if this was a promise she'd be able to keep.

When she returned to her basement, her mobile phone was ringing.

'Livvy, my sweet?'

'Oh,' she said. 'Jeremy. How was the conference?'

'Bloody dire,' he said. 'A complete disaster from beginning to end.' He spoke with enough feeling to convince her that his weekend, however he'd spent it, had not gone according to plan.

But then neither had hers.

'Did you have a good birthday?'

'Fine;' She paused. 'Thank you for your present.'

'Oh, it was nothing.'

You can say that again, Olivia thought, then kicked herself mentally. She was supposed to be building bridges here. Looking for a fresh start.

And sometimes it was better not to have too much imagination. Which was why she'd put Declan's paperweight away in a drawer.

'Listen,' he said. 'I've been neglecting you shamefully. I suppose you've already eaten, but we could always go to a cinema. There's a new French film on that's had rave reviews,' he added eagerly. 'What do you say?'

She said gently, 'I'd love to. Where shall I meet you?' He was really trying to make amends, she thought as she collected her jacket and bag, because he hated foreign films. Not so long ago she'd have been singing with happiness. Now, she felt quiet, and a little bleak. But he was trying—and she would too.

It was an odd week, with Jeremy trying to second-guess her every wish, and Declan strangely remote—even taciturn. When he spoke to her it was only about work, and the atmosphere was heavy between diem.

Even the news that the Prime Ministers series had definitely been commissioned by a major network couldn't lift it.

It was almost a relief when he told her abruptly that he was taking some leave, and would be away the following week.

'Are you going somewhere nice?' She tried to smile, wanting, somehow, to ease things back on the old footing. But the icy look he gave her said plainly she was wasting her time.

'I'm going to Ireland.'

And are you going alone? was what she longed to ask next, but dared not.

Instead, she said, 'I hope you have a wonderful time. You've been looking tired.'

'I'm gratified by your interest,' Declan said coldly. 'But it's quite unnecessary. And I'd appreciate being able to sign those letters I gave you before I leave tonight'

Swine, Olivia thought hotly. Whatever his personal opinion of her, he couldn't fault her efficiency as his assistant.