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At first their phone conversations had been stilted and awkward, and had lasted no more than five minutes or so, but gradually they had lengthened into interesting, often laughter-filled discussions, and after two weeks it hadn’t been unusual for the phone to be occupied for over an hour. And, perhaps predictably, Sephy had found she was measuring time from call to call and only really coming alive when she heard the deep, dark voice on the other end of the line.
Conrad had talked about all sorts of things he had never discussed before; his plans for the future regarding the Quentin empire, difficulties or triumphs he encountered day by day, even Angus’s emergency trip to the vet, when the big cat had taken on a bunch of the local feline mafia and exited from the scrap minus part of his left ear.
‘Of course he managed to bleed all over the car,’ Conrad had said drily, ‘and Madge was so upset I bought a bottle of brandy on the way home, not realising she’d never had spirits before. She was so out of it after two totties I had to sleep the night on her settee in case she fell down the stairs or something.’
The girls in the office at Quentin Dynamics would never have recognised the cold, unemotional, heartless tycoon and his dragon of a secretary, Sephy had thought with an inward chuckle. Which, for no reason at all that she could name, had suddenly turned into an overwhelming urge to have a good cry.
She had restrained herself until she was off the phone but then had bawled half the night. At three in the morning she had given herself a stiff talking-to, followed Madge’s example of getting legless, and then slept like a top until two the next afternoon.
After that she had kept a firm hold on her emotions, both before, during and after the telephone calls, but it still hadn’t stopped her aching to hear his voice.
‘Which doesn’t help anyone in the long run, old girl,’ she told herself now, levering herself off the lounger and walking idly to the edge of the swimming pool. Tomorrow had to be cut-off point. Once she was back in England she had determined she’d move right away from London, probably up north, maybe even as far as Scotland. She could possibly t
hink about moving abroad later too.
She had to make a new life for herself; she saw it now. Not back in her hometown—much as she loved her mother, that wouldn’t work—but somewhere fresh and challenging. And far away from London.
She stood gazing down into the flickering water, immersed in sober thought. It was a baking hot, airless afternoon, and the sun was beating down fiercely on her skin now she had moved out of the shade the large parasol fixed over the sun lounger had provided, but still she didn’t move.
Maisie had called him a rat, but she couldn’t think of him like that. In his own way he had always been very honest with her. She wished she didn’t love him. Her eyelids smarted and she told herself, Don’t. Don’t do this; it’s pointless. Look forward. She wished she didn’t keep dreaming about him, longing for the feel of his arms about her. She wished she knew for sure if she’d done the right thing in not taking what he could give for as long as he could give it so she’d got memories of waking up beside him, feeling him inside her, knowing the ecstasy of full intimacy.
‘Sephy?’
She froze for a second before giving herself a little shake. She was imagining things now—all she needed. Nevertheless, something told her to turn round, and there he was. Not more than a few feet away.
She would have loved to be able to behave as he expected. Like a Caroline de Menthe would have behaved. But she couldn’t. A glib, cool response was beyond her.
She stared at him, at the big, dark, magnificent sight of him, and she began to tremble. He looked calm and composed, impeccably dressed as always, in charcoal-grey trousers and a short-sleeved silk shirt in a lighter hue, and here she was in a minuscule denim bikini she had worn non-stop practically since arriving in Italy and which, she had noticed yesterday, was showing signs of wear in several strategic places.
‘You look wonderful,’ he said softly, taking another step towards her and then stopping as she instinctively jerked backwards, almost disappearing into the pool in the process.
‘Conrad.’ It was a faint murmur but all she could manage through the wild beating of her heart which was sending the blood tumbling through every nerve and sinew.
Pull yourself together. Funnily enough it was Maisie’s voice she heard through the feverish rush of adrenalin and it worked to some extent, enabling her to take a long deep breath and say fairly coherently, ‘I didn’t know you were coming. No one said.’
‘I told them not to.’
‘Oh.’ That look on his face was a lie; it wasn’t real. She was imprinting what she wanted to be there, she told herself desperately. She hadn’t learnt anything over the last weeks.
‘Don’t you want to know why?’ he asked softly.
‘I…I’m sure you must have had your reasons.’
‘Oh, yes, I did.’ He was watching her as though he couldn’t take his eyes off her, and now, when he moved towards her, Sephy held still. ‘I wanted to see if you still looked at me the way you did for an instant that afternoon in England when you told me you loved me,’ he said quietly. ‘You were open then, without your guard up. Nothing to lose, I suppose. It was the cards laid bare and I failed you. I failed you completely.’
Her heart was pounding against her ribcage so hard it was actually hurting, but she still managed to say, ‘That’s…that’s gone, in the past. I…I’ll be all right.’
‘I love you, Sephy.’
She knew she couldn’t have heard right.
‘I love you so much it’s a physical ache, all the time, no matter what I do. I’ve loved you from the first day you worked for me, or the first evening, to be precise, and I’ve fought it just as long. You were so brave that day, telling me how you felt and to hell with the consequences, and I smacked it all back in your face. Like I did when you said you loved me.’
The raw pain in his voice was real, the look in his face was real, but she couldn’t believe what he was saying.
‘You…you said—’ She couldn’t go on, and now he reached out and tenderly cupped her face in his strong hands.
‘I know what I said. The big fellow—doesn’t need anyone and doesn’t care about anything. But I do need you and I care about you. You have to believe me.’
