A Passionate Affair

‘Don’t you?’ He shrugged. ‘No, well, perhaps not. You are in business, after all. You must get a lot of calls.’

She drew a deep breath. ‘Is this business, Mr Ravek?’

His mouth turned down. ‘I think you know better than that.’

Cassandra gasped. ‘Are you always so direct?’

‘Would you prefer a different kind of approach?’

She shook her head. ‘It’s not something I’m familiar with,’ she said blankly. ‘Mr Ravek—–’

‘Jay,’ he corrected her briefly. Then: ‘Look, it’s too cold to talk here. Do you have an appointment, or will you let me buy you lunch?’

Cassandra shivered, suddenly becoming aware of her surroundings again. ‘I don’t think—–’

‘Why not?’ His lean face revealed a trace of irritation. ‘You know you shouldn’t believe everything you read in the press.’

‘I don’t.’ That much was true. But Liz had been so vehement. ‘I just—–’

‘What harm can eating lunch with me do?’ he interposed swiftly. ‘I don’t bite, and I do know my table manners!’

Cassandra half smiled. ‘I’m sure you do.’

‘Is that a grudging acceptance?’

She made a decision. ‘All right.’

‘Good.’ He gestured towards his car. ‘Shall we go?’

Her determination wavered. Her impulsive consent to eat with him had not taken into account the method of getting to a restaurant, and somehow his car seemed such an intimate form of transport after what he had said. After all, what did she know about this man? Nothing that was good, certainly.

He seemed to sense her uncertainty, however, and his expression twisted into an ironic smile. ‘You can trust me,’ he said flatly. ‘I promise I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do. Now, can we get moving?’

Cassandra gave in, and at her nod of acquiescence, Jay Ravek swung open the nearside door of the vehicle and waited while she got inside. His own entry was accomplished with the ease of long practice, and after settling his length behind the wheel, he started the engine.

As they turned out of the mews, Cassandra spared a thought for Chris, realising she should have left him a message telling him where she was going. But to suggest doing so now would smack of over-caution, and she could well imagine Jay Ravek’s interpretation of her leaving some explanatory note.

The car was soon bogged down in the lunchtime snarlups, and feeling the need to clarify her position, Cassandra endeavoured to make light conversation. What he had said earlier, about his reasons for ringing her, didn’t seem credible somehow, and linking her hands together in her lap, she introduced the usual topics of weather and traffic.

His responses were monosyllabic as he concentrated on negotiating the busy streets, but once they had a clear stretch of road, he cast a lazy glance in her direction.

‘You knew I’d ring, didn’t you?’ he remarked, disturbing her anew. ‘What did your mother-in-law tell you?’

Cassandra bent her head. ‘Oh, only that you’d rung. As you said, she thought you were a client. Only most people ring the studio.’

‘Most men?’

Cassandra looked up indignantly. ‘Most clients,’ she corrected him shortly, and Jay inclined his head.

‘But you did know?’

Cassandra schooled her features. ‘How could I?’

‘I don’t believe you’re that naïve,’ he responded, his voice low and disruptive. ‘But—–’ he shrugged, ‘we’ll play it your way, if it suits you.’

Cassandra didn’t know how to answer him, so she didn’t try. Instead, she tried to guess where he was taking her, and what she was going to tell Chris when she got back.

Jay eventually turned the powerful sports car into the car park of a hotel north of Willesden. It was not a hotel Cassandra was familiar with, but judging by the number of cars in the parking area, it was a popular eating place.

A cocktail bar gave on to a small dining room, and mentioning that they could get a drink at their table, Jay preceded Cassandra into the restaurant. They were shown to a table at the far side of the room, overlooking the sunken garden at the back of the hotel, where wilting plants surrounded a murky rock pool.

A waiter provided menus, and Jay asked Cassandra what she would like to drink.

‘Oh, just a dry Martini, please,’ she answered politely, and he ordered a gin and tonic for himself before allowing the waiter to depart.

‘So,’ he said, when they were alone, ‘do you feel happier now?’

Cassandra fingered the red napkin in front of her. ‘I don’t know this place,’ she replied, without answering him. ‘Do you come here often?’

Jay lay back in his chair, regarding her with sardonic eyes. ‘I guess Liz Lester has been talking,’ he remarked. ‘What did she tell you?’

‘Not a lot.’ Cassandra kept her tone light, and forced herself to look at the menu. ‘What do you recommend? I rather fancy scampi. How about you?’

‘Food’s not a fetish with me,’ he responded easily, putting his menu aside. ‘So long as it’s reasonably cooked, a steak will do fine.’

Cassandra nodded, glad of the diversion from more personal matters. ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘I like steak, too. But I think I’ll stick to the fish. It sounds delicious.’

‘Good.’

His acquiescence was indifferent and she was glad when the waiter brought their drinks, and she was able to use her glass as a barrier between them. His eyes were too penetrating, his perception too shrewd; and she looked at the other diners in an effort to avoid looking at him, in case he could read her thoughts as well.

‘I suppose you do a lot of entertaining,’ he remarked at last, his voice lower, more persuasive. ‘In the course of your—work, naturally.’

Cassandra turned her lovely eyes in his direction. She had the distinct suspicion there was an insult there somewhere, but for the life of her she couldn’t understand why he should be baiting her in this way.

‘I—we—do entertain, occasionally,’ she agreed, shaking her head when he offered her another drink. ‘But the company is very small yet. We don’t have an unlimited expense account.’

‘No.’ He rested his arms on the table, cradling his glass between his palms. ‘And there’s just the two of you—you and this young man, Chris Allen?’

‘Yes.’

The waiter came to take their order, and after he was gone again, Jay continued his catechism: ‘Have you known him long? Allen, I mean?’

Cassandra shrugged. ‘About seven years, I suppose. I knew him before—before I was married.’

‘Ah—–’ Jay absorbed this with a curious expression. ‘Perhaps you should have married him. You might have been—happier.’

She held up her head. ‘Maybe,’ she responded, her tone a little chilly now, and as if realising she was beginning to resent his interrogation, Jay smiled.

‘I guess you’re wondering why you agreed to have lunch with such an ignorant swine, aren’t you?’ he suggested ruefully. ‘Forgive me, but—–’ he paused, ‘perhaps I’m not used to such sensitive companionship.’

Cassandra hesitated. ‘I should have thought that was patently untrue,’ she declared steadily, and his lean mouth took on a humorous twist.

‘So I was right—Liz has been talking. Am I allowed to say anything in my own defence?’

She sighed, putting down her glass, not quite sure whether to take him seriously or not. ‘You don’t have to defend yourself to me, Mr Ravek,’ she stated carefully. ‘The way you conduct your affairs is no concern of mine.’

It sounded abominably smug, but he seemed not to take offence, and the arrival of the waiter with their soup prevented any further intimate conversation. Much to her relief, the next twenty minutes were taken up in this way and Cassandra was free to concentrate on the meal and evade any further searching questions. But, inevitably, after she had refused a dessert, coffee was served, and gaining her permission to light a long, narrow cheroot, Jay resumed his cross-examination.

‘Suppose,’ he said, attracting her unwilling attention, ‘suppose I wanted to make it your concern; the way I conduct my affairs, I mean.’ His eyes narrowed, dark and sensual between the thick lashes. ‘Does it matter to you how many women there’ve been in my life?’

‘I—why—–’ Cassandra controlled her colour with the greatest difficulty. ‘Mr Ravek—–’

‘Jay!’

‘—are you trying to insult me?’

‘No.’ He rested his elbows on the table. ‘Why should you think that?’

Cassandra moistened her lips. ‘Perhaps I’m out of touch—–’

‘But not out of reach?’

‘Mr Ravek—–’

‘Mrs Roland?’ His eyes were mocking her now. ‘You’re an intriguing lady. I can’t make up my mind whether you want to go to bed with me or not, and if the answer is no, what the hell am I doing here?’

Cassandra remained in her seat mainly because she doubted her legs would carry her across the room. But her face was red with embarrassment now, and anger at his outrageous statement far outweighed the attraction she had felt towards him.

‘Do you only take a female out to lunch if you think she wants to go to bed with you?’ she demanded, in a low angry voice, and his mocking smile briefly lit the dark contours of his face.

‘In these circumstances, is it so surprising?’ he countered, drawing on his cheroot. ‘Don’t look so shocked, Mrs Roland. It’s a little late for that, don’t you think?’

Cassandra could only assume the worst. Obviously, he believed she had been warned about him, but had chosen to ignore the warning; and in essence it was true. But she had not truly taken everything Liz had told her as gospel, and in consequence, she was left to face this humiliating confrontation unprepared.

‘I think I’d like to leave now, Mr Ravek,’ she declared stiffly, glancing round, as if she hoped some stalwart knight in shining armour might come and rescue her. ‘You’ve had your fun. Could you please ask the waiter to call a taxi for me.’

‘That won’t be necessary.’ With an abrupt movement, he thrust back his chair and got to his feet.

His action brought the waiter to his side, and while he was attending to the bill, Cassandra took the opportunity to escape. She had no desire to drive back to the office with him, but when he emerged from the building, he found her thwarted, on the car park.

‘I’d prefer to take a cab,’ she declared, when he appeared, but Jay only moved his shoulders in an indifferent gesture.

‘But as you can see, there aren’t any,’ he observed, his dark gaze sweeping the car park. ‘Come on, I’ll take you back. You can warm your cold feet in the Ferrari.’

Cassandra’s blood boiled. ‘You’re despicable!’

‘Yes, so I’ve been told,’ he agreed, without rancour. ‘Now, stop looking so outraged, and get in the car. Believe me, my ardour has been satisfactorily doused.’

If she hadn’t felt so furious with him, Cassandra knew she could have seen the funny side of this. The trouble was, in spite of everything, he was still the most disturbing man she had ever met, and if he had not made her feel so insignificant, she might well have given into his sensual attraction.

To her relief, Chris had not returned when she got back to the office, and glancing at her watch she was amazed to discover it was only a little over an hour since she had left. Somehow it had seemed so much longer than that, and her face was still burning as she seated herself at her desk.

Jay had not spoken on the journey back to the studio, and after depositing her in Chandler Mews, he had driven away without a backward glance. She wondered what he was thinking, what interpretation he had put on her behaviour, and wished she understood herself what it was she really wanted.

By the time Chris came back, she had herself reasonably in control, but the bright flags of colour in her cheeks attracted his attention.

‘You look busy,’ he remarked, no doubt imagining the heat she was displaying was due to honest toil. ‘Didn’t you go and get a sandwich? Don’t start missing meals. You’re just beginning to lose that lean and hungry look.’

‘Well, thanks!’ Cassandra tried to adopt a humorous tone. ‘I’ll bear that in mind when I’m tipping the scales.’

‘There’s no fear of you doing that,’ he retorted, lighting the inevitable cigarette. But then, with unexpected perception, he added: ‘You haven’t been having a fight with somebody, have you? You look a bit hot and bothered.’

‘I forgot to open the windows,’ replied Cassandra, hiding behind the hornrims of her spectacles. ‘Did you have a pleasant time at the Black Swan? I don’t know how you can eat pies every day of the week.’

‘Oh, I vary them with sandwiches,’ Chris answered airily, taking his seat and picking up his pencil. ‘And if you’d ever tasted June’s cooking, I guarantee you’d welcome the change.’

Cassandra’s laughter was not forced. ‘You exaggerate,’ she exclaimed. ‘Nowadays, anybody can learn to defrost a beefburger or put a tray of chips in the oven.’

‘Want to bet?’ Chris grinned across at her. ‘So—why don’t you invite me round to your flat and show me how a proper meal should taste?’

Cassandra looked at him for a moment, then shook her head, bending over her desk. ‘You’d better finish off that layout for the kitchen,’ she said, avoiding any further complications. ‘I want to drive down to the house tomorrow afternoon, and I’d like to take the designs with me.’

‘Okay.’

Chris shrugged, taking his dismissal without rancour. They had had many such exchanges since they began to work together, and so far Cassandra had found no difficulty in keeping their relationship on an impersonal basis. But she couldn’t help wondering how he would react if she told him what Jay Ravek had said to her, and while the inclination to avail herself of his sympathy was attractive, she knew she could be inviting a far more explosive situation.

The telephone rang in the middle of the afternoon and she let Chris answer it, stiffening when he held the receiver out to her. ‘That man,’ he mouthed, frowning at her look of consternation. ‘You know—the accountant I told you rang this morning.’

‘Oh!’ Cassandra’s sigh of relief aroused a look of curiosity in Chris’s eyes, but he said nothing, just handed over the receiver, and resumed his calculations as she spoke into the mouthpiece.

‘Mrs Roland?’ Paul Ludlum’s voice was young and attractive. ‘I hope I’m not ringing at an awkward time, but I did ring you earlier.’

‘I know, and I’m sorry I didn’t answer your call.’ Cassandra was contrite. ‘I—er—it’s been quite a hectic day.’

She made a face at Chris’s disbelievingly raised eyebrows, and listened with assumed concentration to what the accountant had to say. Obviously, the fact that his father and Mike’s had been friends gave a certain partiality to his tone, and in spite of her misgivings, he seemed to think she could well afford professional advice.

‘I’d like to call and look over your books,’ he ventured at last. ‘When would that be convenient? I don’t want to interfere with your working schedules.’

‘Oh—–’ Cassandra shrugged her shoulders, and put her hand over the mouthpiece so that she could speak privately to Chris. ‘He wants to come and look at the books,’ she said, looking anxious. ‘Do you really think it’s a good idea?’

‘Sure,’ Chris nodded. ‘Tell him to come tomorrow, while you’re down at Windsor. I guess I could manage to show him round.’

Cassandra nodded. ‘Oh, good.’ She removed her hand, and spoke to Paul Ludlum again. ‘Would tomorrow morning be all right?’

‘Tomorrow morning? Yes, I think I could manage that. Around eleven?’

‘Around eleven,’ Cassandra repeated in agreement, then rang off before she could change her mind.

‘What’s your problem?’ Chris demanded, as she chewed unhappily on the end of her pencil. ‘We’re going to need an accountant, Cass. You can’t keep on burning the candle at both ends.’

‘Hardly that,’ she grimaced.

‘No. But you do work in the evenings, when you should be out enjoying yourself.’

‘Oh, yes?’ Cassandra was sardonic. ‘Chris, I don’t honestly think I was cut out for enjoying myself.’

‘What rubbish!’ Chris was impatient. ‘Look, just because Mike made your life a misery—–’

‘Let’s not talk about that, Chris.’

Cassandra interrupted him, but Chris was determined to be heard. ‘Why not?’ he demanded. ‘I know he’s dead, and you don’t want to say bad things about him, but let’s face it—he wasn’t the man to make you happy.’

Cassandra went to plug in the kettle. ‘Maybe it was my fault,’ she mumbled, her back to him, smarting from the remembrance of her lunch with Jay Ravek. ‘Maybe I don’t—well—–’

‘Well—what?’

‘I don’t know.’ She sighed. ‘Maybe I attract the wrong kind of men.’

‘What—–’ muttered Chris, swearing under his breath, but Cassandra heard him and shook her head.

‘I mean it. Perhaps the kind of man I really need isn’t attracted to me.’

‘Oh, Cass—–’

‘Well, why not?’ She grimaced. ‘I guess I give the wrong impression. Mike used to say that.’

Chris raised his eyes heavenward. ‘Cass, you’re a sexy lady—–’

‘I may look that way, but I’m not,’ declared Cassandra firmly, her lips twitching a little at the incongruity of this conversation. ‘Honestly, Chris, I don’t think I’m cut out for—well, for that kind of a relationship. I thought I was—but I was wrong.’

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