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‘If I ever hear any more of that self-pitying garbage, Phoebe, I’ll...’ The sound of disgust seemed to emerge from deep in his chest as he scanned her tear-stained features with controlled contempt. ‘You don’t really think that.’
Actually, she did. Penny had had so much more to live for than she did—a husband who loved her, a growing reputation as one of the most talented botanical artists in this, or any other, country, the prospect of a family at some point in the future. Penny had had it all, but as it seemed to matter so much to Connor she obligingly shook her head.
Abruptly the grip on her shoulders loosened and the fury drained from his face, leaving behind white-faced tension.
‘Oh, Con!’ Phoebe instinctively reached up and pressed her hands either side of his lean face. The stubble along his strong jaw rasped against her open palms as she gazed tearily up at him. ‘It’ll get better...won’t it?’ she appealed miserably to him. It had to, didn’t it?
‘I sure as hell hope so.’ His big hands came up to cover hers where they lay against his skin.
During the moment of total empathy their fingers interlocked. Without even thinking about what she was doing, Phoebe stretched up on tiptoe and pressed her lips to his. It seemed the most natural thing in the world to do.
They drew apart almost immediately, but were still close enough for her to feel the warmth of his quick shallow breaths against her cheek. She looked anywhere but into his eyes, terrified of revealing the shameful pulse of pure sexual longing which had surged through her body at the brief contact.
It was wrong—wrong time, wrong place and most definitely wrong person!
If Connor even suspected, he’d despise and loathe her for ever. She already despised and loathed herself.
She cleared her throat, hardly able to hear herself think beyond the heavy thud of her heart. ‘How about a nice cup of tea?’ Who needed therapy when they had tea...? She swallowed a bubble of hysteria that rose in her throat.
‘I don’t want tea, nice or otherwise. Phoebe...’
Her eyes were instantly drawn from the safe perspective of his left ear by the unfamiliar hoarse note in his voice. Don’t let him know, please, don’t let him know, she prayed, fearful that he’d picked up on her guilty lust.
‘What’s wrong, Con?’ Of all the inane... The man’s just lost his wife—will that do you? She was braced for his scorn but not what actually came.
His fair head inclined towards her too quickly for her to focus on his face. Phoebe’s eyes stayed wide open and shocked all the way through the kiss.
They drew apart, but not as far apart as the first time. This close it was impossible to distinguish the individual sounds of their painfully rapid breaths. The pressure of his lips on hers had been just as restrained as hers on his, but something else was there that hadn’t been there before. The new dangerous element made her pulses run wild.
She finally managed to focus, and what she focused on made the muscles in her lower belly spasm. The very last thing she’d been prepared to see had been the blaze of raw sexual hunger in his half-closed, heavily lidded eyes. It sliced neatly through her defences like a hot knife through butter.
Without saying a word or taking his eyes off the trembling outline of her full lips, Connor cupped her face in his hands and pressed his mouth to hers with shuddering, blind desperation. She’d wondered so often what it would feel like—now she knew! All the muscles in her lower belly spasmed again and a febrile shudder coursed through her pliant body.
His hands moved down the flexible curve of her spine, before curving possessively over her taut curve of her buttocks and drawing her hard against him.
Reality and fantasy collided with a resounding crash that sent her spiralling out of control. The sense of unreality persisted as his body, his hard male body, continued to press up against her.
The next time his mouth descended she moaned his name and responded with all the passion she’d been forced to deny for so long. Her knees buckled and it was only the strength of his arms that controlled her fall onto the sofa.
He fell to his knees beside the sofa and his body curved over her. He lifted the silky strands of hair that fanned out from her face and let them fall through his fingers.
His scorching glance moved hungrily over the soft contours of her face before dropping lower to where her breasts strained with each tortured breath against the thin fabric of her top.
‘I want to touch you.’
His hoarse announcement sent a sizzling surge of sexual excitement through her body. Expectation stretched every nerve in her body to breaking point. She ached for his touch, and told him as much in a voice that didn’t sound like her own.
His head moved, allowing his lips to brush against the hand she’d laid on his face, then abruptly he froze. ‘Dear God...Phoebe!’ He acted like a man who’d just woken up from a dream—or maybe a nightmare.
‘What the hell are we doing?’ he groaned, jackknifing to his feet. He continued to stagger backwards until his back hit the wall on the opposite side of the room. Grey-faced, he continued to gaze at her in a dazed kind of sick disgust. ‘You’re both so mixed up in my head I can’t... Just go away, will you? Go away and don’t come back!’
Phoebe took a deep breath and steadied herself. After all, she’d come a long way in the last four years. She turned a deliberately deaf ear to the small voice in her head that pointed out that all that progress had amounted to a fat nothing the instant she’d seen him again.
‘I suppose there’s a moral somewhere in what happened...’ she suggested lightly.
‘And that would be?’
‘If you’re going to have mindless sex to forget your troubles, do it with a total stranger—there are fewer repercussions.’
‘Is that the sort of advice you give your patients?’
‘I wasn’t speaking literally...’
‘No, just stupidly,’ he snarled.
‘We didn’t have sex. And don’t worry, Con, I forgave myself some time ago.’ This was only partially true, but it made her sound suitably rehabilitated. She didn’t expect his forgiveness. Carefully she manoeuvred the car through the awkwardly angled Marlow farm gate.
‘And did you ever get around to forgiving me?’
His brooding tone was filled with a depth of self-loathing she recognised extremely well. Phoebe had got so used to blaming herself that the fact that it was possible he might have shouldered the responsibility had got lost somewhere along the way.
‘Forgive...me...you...?’ Fortunately there were no obstacles in the way as her hands left the steering-wheel for several startled moments. ‘I keep telling you, you didn’t do anything!’ She had to establish once and for all that he’d been the innocent party in all this.
Connor reached across and with a judicious touch on the steering-wheel saved the lazy farm cat sprawled in a patch of winter sun from being crushed. Phoebe took control, of the car at least, and parked it behind a tractor.
‘No forgiveness required,’ she insisted in a calmer voice as she fiddled with the clasp on her case. She didn’t look at him—she was working up to that. ‘We both needed...comfort, that’s all.’
‘And you were completely untraumatised by the entire comfort thing? So much so, in fact, that you couldn’t risk coming within a hundred miles of me!’
‘If you’re implying that I was worried you’d... you’d...kiss me again, you couldn’t be more wrong!’ She laughed to demonstrate how crazy the idea was. ‘If there’s been any hint of...attraction between us,’ she gulped, ‘I think it would have showed up when we lived together. You were hurting like hell, missing Penny. I was there...’ She swallowed and smiled through the pain. ‘I look like Penny,’ she added simply.
‘It’s taken you four years to come up with that explanation?’ he grated incredulously.
‘No, five minutes.’
‘That covers my lustful advances.’ And his violent disgust, she thought dully. ‘What about you?’
Phoebe’s eyes widened fearfully. ‘What about me?’
‘Who were you closing your eyes and thinking of when you kissed me?’
‘Nobody!’ she exclaimed. An alert expression flickered into his eyes and she continued more cautiously. ‘That is, I wasn’t thinking,’ she clarified hastily. ‘I was hurting, too. I suppose I just needed someone to hold me...’ His arms were about perfect for that job, she recalled wistfully.
Connor’s strong jaw clenched, drawing his lightly tanned skin even tighter across his prominent cheekbones. ‘And I was a convenient body,’ he suggested flatly.
Guiltily Phoebe nodded.
‘This all sounds perfectly plausible.’
Phoebe’s spirits plummeted. Suddenly she was getting the distinct impression that he hadn’t swallowed a word she’d said.
‘There’s just one difficulty. If you had no problem with what happened, why refuse to open my letters? Why disappear off the face of the earth?’
It was so obvious she couldn’t believe Con hadn’t worked that one out for himself.
‘How could you get over Penny with me around as a constant reminder?’ She lifted a hand to her face. Had Penny lived, it would have been her face, too.
The taunting smile faded abruptly from Connor’s face. He looked horrified. ‘You went away to spare me heartache?’
Warily Phoebe nodded. He was partially right at least.
He closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the head restraint. The irony of it was so acute he couldn’t help but laugh, but when he lifted his head he wasn’t laughing.
‘Has it ever occurred to you that I was out of my skull with worry?’ She recoiled from the blue blaze of fury in his eyes. ‘I thought I’d wait a few weeks, let the dust die down, only by then you’d gone...left the country. I got that much out of Magda.’
Phoebe nodded. She had sworn her mother to silence. Phoebe suspected that Magda’s co-operation had had a lot to do with her dislike of Connor, who had never really succeeded in hiding his disapproval of a woman who had walked out on her husband and six-month-old baby daughters.
‘You don’t think I’m capable of seeing the person beyond the face? You think I’m that superficial?’ The thought seemed to whip his temper to greater heights. ‘You’re nothing like Penny!’
Not funny, not brave, not sexy or spontaneous. He was too kind to say it, but she knew what he was thinking. She raised her chin, ashamed of the self-pitying direction of her thoughts.
‘I’ve never confused you with her.’
That was one claim too many for Phoebe, whose spine stiffened. ‘Never?’ she echoed scornfully.
His bold accusing glare finally dropped from hers. A dark tide of colour washed over his face. When he met her eyes again his expression was hard and set.
‘No, never,’ he asserted, his nostrils flared.
The delicate frown line between Phoebe’s eyes became a furrow as she tried to make sense of what he was saying.
‘That means...’ she gasped in a charged undertone.
‘I knew who I was kissing that day. Yes, I did, Phoebe. That ruins your victim image of the tragic bereaved husband, I’d say,’ he ground out with savage sarcasm.
She shook her head slowly from side to side in silent denial. The bewildering implications of what Connor was saying were too great for her to take on board. For four years she’d believed that the passion he’d displayed that day had been intended for someone else. Now he was saying... what was he saying?
She wound down the window and took several gulps of cold Cheshire air.
‘I thought I recognised the sound of your car.’
‘Rob!’ She gasped, almost falling out of the car in relief.
The tall young man put out a hand to steady her. ‘Watch your step.’ He laughed. ‘Mum’s got the kettle on if you’d like a cup of tea.’
‘I’d love to, Rob, but I’m running a bit late.’ The young man’s face fell dramatically but Phoebe, normally the most perceptive of women, failed to hear the warning bells. Her thoughts were too preoccupied by the man sitting silently in her car to see anything worrying in Rob Marlow’s obvious disappointment.
‘I’ve got that video I promised you, though,’ she said, withdrawing the video of a wildlife documentary—she and Rob had discovered a shared love of nature programmes—from the capacious pocket of the swing coat she wore over her trouser suit. Her soft red leather glove, tangled up with the video, fell towards the muddy concrete floor.
Both she and Rob bent down to retrieve it simultaneously and their heads collided with a thump that vibrated through Phoebe.
She came up clutching her head. ‘I felt that.’ She laughed shakily.
Rob caught her shoulders as she swayed and for a moment she leant her spinning head against his chest.
Watching from the car, Connor had an excellent view of the impact. The professional objectivity he prided himself in was absent as he watched the tender scene through narrowed eyes.
‘Are you all right, Phoebe?’ Rob asked, his face creased in concern as he bent over her.
Phoebe straightened up. ‘Isn’t that my line?’ she said ruefully, rubbing the swelling already detectable through her thick hair. Her glance at his hands curved over her shoulders was a gentle reminder to which Rob responded with a self-conscious blush.
‘Now you must have a cup of tea—it’s a medicinal necessity,’ he coaxed.
Brandy would have been more appropriate medicine, she thought, brooding over the amazing thing that Con had just said. Perhaps she was getting too hung up over semantics, perhaps he hadn’t meant anything by it... This possibility didn’t stand up too long to scrutiny—the Con she knew was as precise with words as he was with a scalpel, though he’d abandoned that, too, now. There were just so many questions for her brain to cope with and far too few answers!
‘I would, but I’m not alone...’ She nodded stiffly towards the car without turning her head. ‘Dr Carlyle is back. I’m giving him a lift home,’ she explained.
The young man’s expression cleared. ‘Oh, I see.’ A frown of concern creased his brow. ‘That doesn’t mean you’re leaving us, does it?’
‘I’m not sure yet...’ Phoebe responded vaguely. Her first instinct might be to put as much distance as possible between herself and Hayfield as quickly as she could, but it wasn’t realistic or fair to leave Will in the lurch before the replacement he’d organised arrived in a fortnight’s time.
‘We’ll miss you.’
‘Thank you, Rob,’ Phoebe responded absent-mindedly as he walked her back to the car.
Rob walked round to the passenger side as Phoebe climbed back in. ‘Heard about the accident, Doc. You know how it feels to be on the receiving end of medical advice now.’
‘He knows how to ignore it,’ Phoebe muttered, before Connor could reply.
Connor dealt her a narrowed look from his expressive eyes. ‘How have you been, Rob?’
‘Can’t complain. I’ve been well looked after.’ The smile was reserved for Phoebe. ‘I’ve made arrangements to move back to my own place in town.’
Connor’s eyebrows shot upwards. ‘That’s great news. What brought about the change of heart?’ This assertion of independence was also surprising news. Since Rob’s deteriorating sight meant he could no longer drive, he’d returned to his parents’ farm and, despite a few gentle nudges from his doctors, had shown every inclination of staying put. ‘Or should I say who?’ The lightness in his even tone wasn’t reflected in the look he shot an uneasy Phoebe.
Phoebe’s full lips compressed. The condemnation in his cold blue-eyed glare was totally unreasonable.
‘Phoebe’s been great.’
‘I do my job,’ she responded uncomfortably.
‘Above and beyond the call of duty.’ Rob beamed.
‘My thoughts exactly,’ Connor muttered snidely under his breath.
Phoebe clamped her teeth into a fixed smile and ignored Connor completely as she made her farewells to Rob, promising to drop by the next day. She could be developing paranoia but somehow she didn’t think so. Whatever was bothering Connor, she knew she wouldn’t have long to wait to hear about it. He never had been backward in coming forward when it came to telling her how wrong she was about something!
Connor was about to learn that when it came to professional matters Phoebe wasn’t to be patronised or preached at!
