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She needed a way to arm herself against the degrading memories of seven years ago. Now, along with everything else she had to deal with the unwanted image of his lean, sculptured nakedness imprinted on her consciousness.
Calm down, she told herself. Regroup. Concentrate on finding a way to re-establish Adam’s interest without alerting the adversary I hoped and prayed I would never see again. Dressed or undressed.
But that was the end of her solitary roam. She couldn’t risk being seen, so she would do her thinking elsewhere.
She dashed up to her room to get her bag and minutes later was driving out through the gates. She took the road away from the village which led instead to Rankins Lock.
She parked and walked down to the towpath overlooking the canal. It was very quiet. The half-dozen narrowboats moored there were silent and curtained, but the nearby café was open, already preparing for the breakfast trade.
Maybe some coffee would clear her head and aid coherent thought.
As she walked in, a woman was busy behind the counter and as she straightened, Dana recognised Janice Cotton. Her instinct told her to turn and walk away, but that would be a sign of weakness.
Everywhere I go, I seem to run into the last person I ever want to meet.
‘Dana Grantham, of all people. What are you doing back here?’
‘Just visiting,’ Dana said crisply. ‘I’d like coffee, please. Black, filter.’
Janice filled a cardboard beaker from the steaming jug on the hotplate and handed it to her.
‘You look as if you’re doing all right,’ she commented. ‘Still with that rich stud you went off with, are you?’
Dana stared at her. ‘I don’t follow you.’
‘The dark dishy guy you sent looking for that manky old bike of yours. Boy, did he get me into trouble with Dad.’
He makes a habit of it, thought Dana, her mouth tightening. She said curtly, ‘That was none of my doing. And we certainly didn’t leave together because I wouldn’t go to the end of the street with him.’
‘Well, stroppy or not, I wouldn’t have kicked him out of bed, given the chance,’ said Janice. ‘So, when the pair of you just—vanished like that, people round here put two and two together.’
‘Making five plus as usual,’ Dana returned crisply. ‘And I didn’t vanish. I took a job I’d been offered in London. Sorry I didn’t put a notice in the paper.’
Janice gave her a long look. ‘Stands to reason, he must have fancied you, or why make all that fuss about that old bike.’
Dana’s mouth was suddenly dry, but she forced herself to speak more lightly. ‘A serious commitment to throwing his weight around, probably. Who knows?’ She took out her purse. ‘Here’s the money for the coffee. I think I’ll drink it outside.’
Janice shrugged. ‘No skin off my nose.’
Dana’s mind was in turmoil as she seated herself on a bench by the towpath.
She supposed it was inevitable that her sudden departure should have caused gossip. Villages were like that. But knowing the talk had linked her with Zac only intensified the old shame and bitterness.
For an instant, she remembered how she’d seen him earlier, lithe as a panther, water beading like crystal on his bare skin.
He must have fancied you...
And, shocked, felt her body stir suddenly at the memories those careless words evoked.
No, she told herself vehemently. It was never that. He was a manipulator—a spoiler who’d wanted her to be sent away, and left her defenceless against his lies.
But this time she knew what he was capable of, and she’d be ready for whatever trick he tried to pull.
Besides, she thought, for Adam she was still unfinished business, which was always a temptation. And she would make him wait—keep him wanting—holding him at arm’s length while her smile promised the world.
Zac Belisandro had no weapons to fight that. And this time, he would lose.
She’d expected breakfast to be in full swing when she got back to the house, but, while everyone was certainly assembled in the dining room, ‘swing’ hardly seemed an appropriate description of the prevailing atmosphere.
Conversation was subdued with Adam seated at the head of the table, his face like stone, and Mimi Latimer at its foot, looking martyred.
The chorus of ‘Good morning’s which greeted her suggested that her arrival was something of a relief.
Particularly to Nicola. ‘There you are,’ she exclaimed. ‘I took you a cup of tea earlier and wondered where you were.’
