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She looked at him and saw disgust in his glacial eyes, in the hard, cold line of his mouth—the mouth that had driven her wild a moment ago—and ice seeped into her veins. She turned away from him and, fastening her trousers, slid her legs over the side of the bed. She had wanted Luke just now with a hunger and need that shamed her, and finally she admitted to herself what she had known from the day she'd met him.
Alan had never made her feel this way. Their love had been born of a long friendship, gentle and caring. But Luke dominated her thoughts and her body to the exclusion of all else. She had spent all her energy in maintaining a barrier between them and now, when it was too late, it struck her like a knife through the heart—she loved Luke.
The pain started then, but Jemma refused to let him see how much he had hurt her. She pulled the remnants of her shirt up over her shoulders, fastened the one remaining button, and rose to her feet. It took every bit of will-power she possessed to lift her eyes to his. 'As you like,' she said, and she even managed to pull off a shrug. 'So long as our separation doesn't affect my father or the company.'
'Your father and the company will continue to have my monetary support, as agreed.' His mouth twisted. 'And if there's any chance you're pregnant, we'll have to come to some amicable arrangement.'
'No, I'm not pregnant. And tell Theo not to worry—he can stay at the house on Zante any time he likes.' So the irony was that the only person who'd not got what they wanted out of this marriage was her.
'Thank you, but I insist on paying you rent when he's there. Theo doesn't need to know.'
She stared at him, angry that he could even suggest paying her, but before she could reply Luke had spun on his heel and was gone.
Jemma sat back down on the bed, her eyes dry, trying to make sense of what had just happened. Luke had left for New York with no hint that anything was wrong, and that evening when she had called him…
She drew in a ragged breath. A woman had answered his phone. Davina—the name niggled at the back of her mind and then she remembered. According to Jan, the girl Luke had been dating before he'd married Jemma was called Davina somebody or other, and lived in New York. Suddenly Jemma saw it all. Luke must be back with Davina, and everything Luke had said over the phone when she'd called him on his birthday had been a sick joke—the sexy words Luke had murmured probably meant for the woman standing next to him in his office that evening. Had the two of them been laughing at her behind her back? When Luke had told Jemma to look for a country house with a garden because he knew the apartment did not suit her, she had naïvely thought he'd meant for them to share the new house. But instead it had been a hint for Jemma to move out of the apartment, to leave it free for him to move his other woman in.
What a blind fool she had been. Luke had another woman. If she were honest, it was no more than she had expected from the beginning. She supposed she should consider herself lucky their marriage had lasted four months. But she didn't consider herself lucky at all. And she blinked and blinked again but could not hold back the tears…
Luke climbed into his car and slammed the door shut, his
chest heaving. He started the engine and then gripped the steering wheel with hands that shook. He had to get away, as far and as fast as he could. He was appalled at his own behaviour; he had damn near taken Jemma without thought or consideration for what she wanted. He had never felt such all-consuming anger in his life. She obsessed him to the point of insanity.
He had given Jemma everything, and ached for her love, and last night it had come to him after three frustrating days in the U.S.—the one thing he had not done was tell her he loved her. He had immediately chartered a plane and arrived in London determined to do so, with some romantic picture in his mind that she would fling herself into his arms and reciprocate his feelings.
As soon as Patty had told him Jemma was in Bayswater he had known, but he hadn't wanted to believe it. When he'd walked into the bedroom and seen her crying over her dead husband he had lost it completely. Love had made a raging idiot of him—but no more. In every other area of his life he was a resounding success, but with Jemma he had failed. He no longer trusted himself anywhere near her. She was a weakness he could no longer afford, and he'd had no option but to finish it—before his passion for her destroyed him.
A week later, Jemma was sitting in a restaurant with Liz, pretending to enjoy a lunch she had no stomach for.
'Cheer up, Jemma. Luke will be back on Saturday.' Liz grinned. 'Think of the pleasure in store.'
Jemma tried to smile and failed. What was the point? The truth had to come out some time? 'No, he won't, Liz. It's over.'
'No—I don't believe it: Luke worships you!'
'You know his reputation: he worships women in the plural,' Jemma said dryly. 'But never only one for very long, and I'm certain he has someone else.'
'Luke wouldn't do that to you; you must be mistaken,' Liz protested.
'I'm not mistaken. I saw him last Thursday. He made a flying visit to London to tell me in person it was finished. He's sick of me and doesn't want to see me ever again… Is that plain enough for you?'
'The utter louse!' Liz exclaimed, and went on at length at the sleaziness of super-rich playboys.
'My sentiments exactly,' Jemma said and, rising to her feet, added, 'Can we get out of here? I've had enough.'
Jemma had dreaded telling her father, but she discovered she didn't need to. The following weekend she answered a knock on the door, expecting to show a couple around the house, but her father was standing on the doorstep.
'Jemma, are you all right?' To her surprise he put his arms around her and hugged her. 'I'm so sorry. I'd hoped Luke would make you happy, not leave you like this.'
She stepped out of his arms. That Luke had told her father he had left her was the final humiliation. 'Don't worry, Dad, your position in the company and the money from Luke are guaranteed,' she said, with a cynicism that was an instinctive defence against the painful emotions that threatened to engulf her.
'I know—Luke told me. But can't a father worry about his daughter? You must be so upset.'
'No, not really.' She denied her heartache. 'I always knew Luke had the attention span of a gnat when it came to women. Why do you think we broke up in the first place?' Luke wasn't the only one who could embroider the truth about their relationship. 'It was fun while it lasted, but no harm done. Now, really, Dad, much as I'd like you to stay, I have a couple coming to view the house any minute.'
'You're selling the house? I don't blame you. Find something bigger in the luxury class; Luke can certainly afford to pay through the nose for his freedom.'
And on that friendly note her father left. Jemma had to laugh.
