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‘Why can’t they send someone else to Paris?’ he asked. ‘You aren’t their only researcher.’
‘They consider me one of their best,’ Lindsey admitted. ‘But I promise it will be the last time. I told Grace I don’t want to do any more out-of-town interviews.’
‘Well, if it’s really the last time...’
‘How was your day?’ she asked, anxious to change the subject.
‘I spent the morning editing Turlow’s article and the afternoon finding photographs for him. It’s a job anyone with a half-decent education could do. I’m wasting my degree.’
‘It would have been equally wasted if you’d gone to work in your family business.’
‘I never committed myself to working there.’ Tim was instantly on the defensive.
‘Your parents took it for granted, and if you hadn’t met me I think you’d have joined your father like a shot.’
‘Perhaps, but you’re more important to me than any job.’
‘Thank you, but I don’t fancy having it on my conscience that you aren’t doing what you want.’
‘Who the hell knows what I want?’ he questioned bitterly.
‘Well, at least you won’t waste your training if you stay on in Fleet Street.’
‘As a hack journalist?’
‘Give yourself a chance. I’m sure they’ll ask you to do Turlow’s column when he goes.’
‘Is that your ambition for me?’ Tim asked slowly. ‘To be a political leader writer?’
‘What’s wrong with it?’
‘Nothing. Except it isn’t my ambition. The thought of spending my life criticising what others have done—’
‘And putting forward your own views,’ Lindsey intervened silkily. ‘Imagine the influence you could have on public opinion.’
‘It would be years before anyone listened to me.’
‘You have to begin somewhere,’ Lindsey said irritably. ‘Or would you prefer to waste your talent going into the family business and being your father’s dogsbody?’
‘I’d hardly have been that. It’s not a one-man business, you know. It’s a sizeable engineering firm, and—’ Tim hesitated, then clamped his lips and said no more.
But Lindsey knew what he had held back, and, realising how important it was to clear the air, she finished the sentence for him.
‘And if you don’t join your father, he’ll eventually have to sell the company to somebody else, who probably won’t have the same caring attitude to the workforce.’
‘Exactly. So what’s wrong with that attitude?’
‘Nothing. Except that you aren’t interested in business, and your parents shouldn’t make you feel guilty because you don’t want to conform to their ideas. That’s why they don’t like me. Because they blame me for what they see as your disloyalty.’
‘That isn’t true. They don’t blame you, though I admit they’re upset that I’m not joining Ramsden Engineering.’
Lindsey bit back a sigh. She understood Tim’s dilemma but didn’t see how it could be solved, for if he toed the line it would mean returning to live in Evebury, and that would put untold strain on their marriage, for she knew she would never be happy living there.
‘Don’t look so upset,’ Tim said quickly, his words intimating knowledge of her feelings. ‘You’re my first loyalty, darling, and you always will be.’ Moving forward, he caught her round the waist and rubbed his cheek against hers, his passion, as always, very near the surface.
Lindsey’s breasts swelled at his touch, and she traced the nape of his neck with her fingertips, fiercely glad to know that, whatever their difficulties, their love would always overcome them.
CHAPTER TWO
LINDSEY flung down her pen and stretched her arms lazily above her head, easing her tired muscles. By dint of working long hours she was two days ahead of her schedule, which pleased her because she knew it would delight Tim.
She reached for the telephone, called Air France, and secured a reservation on an early evening flight to London. Replacing the receiver, she picked it up again to call Tim and tell him, then, smiling, put it down. How much nicer to surprise him!
With one eye on the clock, she continued transcribing material from her tape recorder on to her lap-top word processor. She had come to Paris to research the life of a famous French movie star who, twenty years earlier, at the age of forty, had married an out-of-work twenty-year-old French guitarist. Everyone had said it wouldn’t last, but they had been proved wrong, for not only were they still blissfully happy, but the guitarist was now one of the most popular musicians in France.
Lindsey knew that Grace Chapman, who was the programme’s producer and her immediate boss, would be delighted with the material she had obtained, for she had great aptitude in gathering information, and Grace had recently suggested she would let her appear in a documentary instead of being a backroom girl.
‘You have the looks, intelligence and personality to be a presenter,’ the woman had stated. ‘But telly fame means you’d become a target for every gossip columnist in Fleet Street, and you might not want that.’
‘They’d find nothing to gossip about in my life,’ Lindsey had replied.
‘I’ll put your name forward, then.’
Since Grace’s word carried enormous weight, Lindsey was delighted, yet she had not said a word to Tim, uncertain how would he feel if she suddenly became famous while he was still struggling. Perhaps it might be wiser to soft-pedal her prospects for another year.
Arriving at the airport with time to spare, she wandered into the duty-free shop and, spying Tim’s favourite aftershave, which even for her was wickedly expensive, she decided to buy some for him. The bottle she had given him for Christmas was down to the last inch, and she had noticed him using it sparingly.
Deciding in for a penny in for a pound, she also purchased a bottle of champagne as a nice way to mark her earlier than expected return. Tim’s favourite brand was Dom Perignon, but the cost was almost double the one she had chosen, and given the amount she had spent on the aftershave it was an extravagance she could ill afford.
Although the flight took only an hour, it was interminable to Lindsey as she envisaged Tim’s surprise and pleasure at seeing her. Would they drink the champagne before going to bed, or make love first? When they had been apart for more than a night, he was always impatient to possess her, and as she walked in he would gather her into his arms and carry her into the bedroom, his hunger such that there was no time for foreplay. But she was always wet and ready for him, and their coupling, though swift, was lusty and satisfying.
As her taxi drew to a halt outside the red-brick Edwardian house where they had their apartment, and she saw the light in the sitting-room of their second-floor apartment, she breathed a sigh of relief. Thank goodness Tim was home. In the last half-hour it had occurred to her that her desire to surprise him would backfire if he had gone to the films, or was visiting friends.
Hurrying up the stairs, she quietly unlocked the front door and noiselessly closed it. She wanted Tim’s surprise to be total when she walked into the sitting-room.
It certainly was! And a damned unpleasant one too, for he was on the sofa, locked in a passionate embrace with a voluptuous blonde.
Staring at them in shocked silence as they swiftly drew apart, her eyes took in the scene: open hamper stuffed with goodies in Harrods’ distinctive green wrapping, two glasses beside an empty champagne bottle—Dom Perignon, to add insult to injury—and black leather Gucci bag flung carelessly on the floor, beside matching low-heeled shoes. While the cat’s away, the rat did play! And with no expense spared for his new little sex-kitten!
‘Shall I go out and ring the bell?’ she finally managed, tight-lipped.
‘It isn’t what you imagine,’ the girl said.
‘Then it’s an award-winning imitation!’
‘Don’t be silly, Lindsey.’ Tim’s smile was a travesty, and he avoided her eyes as he began doing up the buttons of his shirt, which was undone to the waist. ‘Patsy is Peter’s sister—the best man at our wedding. Patsy wasn’t there because she was in Australia.’
‘I suppose she called in tonight to congratulate you?’ Lindsey’s tone was heavily sarcastic as she eyed the girl.
There was no denying she was stunning: silky, corn-coloured hair falling around slender shoulders, a full bust, small waist, and nicely rounded hips. As she gracefully rose, the long legs exposed by her black kid skirt were fabulous too.
‘Patsy and Peter grew up with me,’ Tim was saying. ‘Remember me telling you, darling?’
Lindsey had a vague memory of it, and jealousy mounted as she remembered her mother-in-law saying she had wanted Tim to marry someone like Patsy Selwyn, who hailed from a similar background.
‘Please don’t be angry with Tim,’ the girl said now, in a well-bred drawl. ‘This is more my fault than his.’
‘It takes two to tango,’ Lindsey bit out, throwing her husband a contemptuous look as he raked his hand through his tousled hair in an attempt to tidy it.
‘What I mean is, I’ve known Tim most of my life, and when I called him and heard you were away I came over with some food and bubbly—too much bubbly, I guess. That’s why—’
‘Thanks for the explanation,’ Lindsey drawled. ‘It’s made me feel a lot better.’
Patsy flushed and looked at Tim for help. But none came, and she lost patience. ‘For heaven’s sake, Lindsey! You’re making a mountain out of a molehill.’
‘I don’t happen to think finding your husband passionately kissing another woman is a molehill.’
‘But we were a bit tight. It didn’t mean a thing. We’ve known each other for years and—’
‘Why don’t you just go?’ Lindsey cut in wearily. ‘And if you think Tim will be faithful to you, take him with you!’
Turning on her heels, she walked into the bedroom and slammed the door behind her. As she crumpled on the bed, she heard the front door close, and a moment later Tim came in and put his arms around her.
‘Please let me explain, darling,’ he murmured. ‘Patsy was speaking the truth. I was missing you like hell, and when she offered to come over and keep me company—’
‘You decided to use her as my stand-in!’ Lindsey shook herself free of him. ‘You’d have been in this bed together if I’d arrived an hour later!’
‘Don’t be crazy! I couldn’t make love to anyone except you.’
‘What were you doing on the sofa—playing patience?’
He shrugged guiltily. ‘Things got a little out of hand, I agree, but you’re blowing it up out of all proportion.’
‘Perhaps I’m not as sophisticated as you,’ Lindsey cried. ‘But in my world, if a man loves his wife he doesn’t make love to someone else the instant her back’s turned.’ Jumping to her feet, she went to stand by the window. ‘I was a fool to work myself into the ground so I could come home earlier than planned. I should have stayed in Paris and lived it up. I had plenty of offers.’
‘I’m sure you did,’ Tim said softly, from just behind her. ‘You’re a very beautiful girl.’ Catching hold of her shoulder, he swung her round to face him. ‘Come to bed, Lindsey, and let me show you how much I love you.’
‘The only thing going to bed with me will prove is how horny you are!’ she flung at him, furious that he was so insensitive to her mood. Did he think she could discover him in the arms of another woman one moment, and forget about it the next? ‘The way I feel right now, I don’t want to make love to you ever!’
‘For heaven’s sake, be reasonable.’
‘Reasonable?’ Lindsey stormed. ‘How reasonable would you be if you came home and found me half-naked in another man’s arms!’
‘I wasn’t half-naked,’ Tim replied. ‘Nor was I making love to Patsy. I was just kissing her. Dammit, I’ve known her since I was six. Her brother’s one of my closest friends.’
‘Perhaps you should divorce me and marry her! Then you can work for Daddy and live on the family estate instead of in a poky flat on the wrong side of the river!’
‘Stop it!’ Tim bit out. ‘I’m happy here because I’m with you, and that’s all that matters to me. You should know that by now.’
‘Should I?’ Lindsey was suddenly gripped with insecurity. ‘I don’t know anything about you at all.’
Catching the weariness in her voice, he took a tentative step towards her. ‘Why don’t you get into bed and I’ll bring you a hot drink? You look exhausted.’
‘Hardly surprising when I’ve been working flat-out.’
‘That’s your choice.’
‘I was talking about Paris!’ she snapped. ‘I love my job and I can easily cope with it. It was only pressured because I wanted to get home ahead of schedule. Pity I didn’t save myself the trouble.’
‘For heaven’s sake!’ Tim’s temper rose to meet hers. ‘I’m a normal, red-blooded male who was missing his wife and stepped a bit out of line. Stop turning it into the crime of the century.’
‘Missing your wife?’ Lindsey spluttered. ‘Four days without me and you can’t control your lust!’
‘That wasn’t what I meant, and you know it.’
‘I certainly do. All I am to you is a good lay, and when I’m not here you’ll settle for anyone else!’
‘That’s a disgusting thing to say.’
‘It’s the truth!’ She was screaming like a harridan yet couldn’t stop herself. ‘You’re sorry you didn’t marry Princess Patsy. She’s one girl who’d meet with your parents’ approval.’
‘That’s what’s bugging you, isn’t it? That they don’t approve of you? Well, why should they?’ Tim flung at her harshly. ‘You abhor everything they stand for and you’ve shown them nothing but contempt. You can’t bear anyone who’s well off, can you?’
‘I don’t believe in privilege unless it’s earned.’
‘Dad may have inherited the company from his father, but it’s his efforts that have made it bigger and more successful.’
‘I suppose you resent me because you aren’t working there too?’
‘I don’t resent you, Lindsey. You made it plain you wouldn’t live in Evebury, so I had no choice. That’s the difference between us. You’d have walked away from me, but I couldn’t have walked away from you.’
Dismayed, Lindsey stared at him. Did he genuinely believe what he had just said? Didn’t he know how much she loved him? The knowledge that he didn’t, hurt her deeply, showing how little he understood her.
‘I’m beginning to see why you didn’t want to live in Evebury,’ Tim went on. ‘You were scared you’d lose control over me.’
‘Why should I want to control you?’
‘Because you have a king-size inferiority complex and it’s time you faced it. The main reason you dislike my parents is you’re jealous of them. As you’re jealous of anyone who has the things you’ve never had.’
‘I was waiting for you to bring up my background,’ she cried.
‘I never have until now. You’re always the one bleating about being working class. I don’t give a damn where a person comes from. It’s what they make of themselves that counts.’
‘It’s easier to make something of yourself if you start with the advantage of money,’ she said scornfully.
‘You haven’t done so badly,’ he retorted.
‘Because I chose a profession that recognises ability. What you know instead of whom you know.’
