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Her green eyes glittered at him angrily. ‘Dammit! You’re doing it again!’ For a moment she wondered if Damien had put him up to this for some sort of gag, then she instantly rejected the thought. Damien would never dream up such an outrageous idea.
‘Look,’ she said with patient resignation. ‘You’re simply wasting your time with me, Kassim. You’re a very attractive man, I’d be lying if I—if I said I wasn’t pleased that you also find me attractive…’
‘Not just attractive. Positively alluring,’ he said with a grin.
‘But,’ she went on, ignoring the remark, ‘this ring on my finger means a lot to me. There’s only room in my life for one man, so if you’re looking for someone to seduce I suggest you go back inside and find someone more susceptible to your charms.’
He contemplated her in a thoughtful silence which dragged and stretched her nerves. ‘So,’ he said at last. ‘You don’t object to me personally. It’s simply the fact that you’ve promised yourself to Damien?’
‘No,’ she was forced to admit, ruefully. ‘I’ve nothing against you as a person. As I said, you’re quite attractive.’ She paused, then added drily, ‘A fact I’m sure you’re well aware of. On the other hand, you’re rather egotistical, but then, most men are as a rule.’
He stroked her cheek again with a long finger and gave vent to a sigh of desperate longing. ‘Ah…if only you would come with me to Morocco, Janene. I would drive every thought of any other man out of your mind.’
‘Yes,’ she replied tartly, ‘I’m sure you’d try your best, but don’t hold your breath. There’s as much chance of me going to Morocco as to the far side of the moon.’
‘One should never challenge the fates,’ he cautioned with a cynical smile. ‘We may meet again sooner than you think.’
Something in his eyes made her look away quickly and she made a mental note to stick to Damien’s side like glue from now on. If he had to meet clients in private, she was going to lock herself in the loo until it was safe to come out again.
‘I’m going inside now,’ she announced firmly.
His finger had traced its way lightly to the skin below her ear, sending tiny tremors through her nervous system. Reluctantly he straightened up and slid the jacket from around her shoulders. ‘I don’t think Damien realises how lucky he is, Janene,’ he murmured softly. ‘When you and I meet again there will be nowhere to run to. We’ll be alone. And then we’ll see what kind of a woman you really are beneath that shell.’ Taking her gently by the arm, he led her back inside.
‘So what did you think of Kassim, then?’ Damien asked, when he finally turned up to reclaim her a few minutes later.
She clung to Damien’s arm and stared after Kassim as he departed and disappeared into the crowd. ‘I—I don’t know,’ she stammered. ‘He’s a bit overpowering. I’m still trying to get my breath back.’
Damien grinned. ‘So he made a pass at you? I’d have been annoyed if he hadn’t. It’s his way of paying you a compliment. You know what these hot-blooded Mediterranean types are like.’
‘No, I didn’t. But I do now.’
Damien didn’t seem interested in pursuing the subject, and as he started leading her towards the bar she pulled him up. ‘I don’t want another drink, darling. I think I’d rather rather go home.’
He looked at her in surprise, then glanced at his watch. ‘It’s still early. I’ve got another chent to meet in half an hour.’
She gave him a weary smile. ‘Don’t worry about me, darling. I know how important your clients are to you. You stay and I’ll get a taxi home.’
‘No. I wouldn’t dream of it!’ he said indignantly. ‘You stand right here while I fetch your coat.’
She restrained him once more. ‘You’re going to make me feel guilty. The fact is that I’ve got a bit of a headache. I need an early night for a change. You stay here and enjoy yourself.’
He frowned. ‘I’m not here to enjoy myself, Janene. I hate these damn parties, if you want to know the truth. But mine isn’t a nine-to-five job. Really important deals aren’t done in offices…’
She soothed his ruffled feathers with an understanding smile. ‘I know, I know. They’re done over expenseaccount lunches and at social events and parties like this. But you’ll never get rich standing here talking to me. Now, just phone for a taxi while I go upstairs and get my coat.’
He looked at her uncertainly for a moment, then he kissed her on the cheek. ‘You’re a girl in a million, Janene. I’ll make all this up to you when we get married.’
Thirty minutes later she was back in the peace and quiet of her flat. After a shower, she wrapped herself in a bath-robe and settled down in front of the electric fire with a hot, milky drink.
Her encounter with Kassim had left her feeling tense and jumpy, and when the phone suddenly rang she almost leapt off the settee in agitation.
‘Hi. How’s the headache?’
She relaxed at the sound of Damien’s voice. ‘Still there. I’ve taken a couple of aspirins.’ There was a lot of background noise. ‘Did you meet your client?’
‘Yes. And now I’m leaving.’ He hesitated a moment, then went on hopefully, ‘Would you like me to drop round? I can fill your hot-water bottle. Fetch your teddy.’
She smiled to herself. Damien wasn’t a demanding lover. He was considerate, and sex provided them with mutual satisfaction. It could be the very therapy that she needed right now. ‘Well…it sounds like a wonderful idea, darling,’ she murmured. ‘But I really am tired. And I wouldn’t want to fall asleep in the middle of youknow-what.’
‘Yeah… That would really put a dent in my pride.’ His voice was filled with wry amusement. ‘In that case, I’d better not take the chance.’
Feeling that she had somehow to make it up to him, she suggested quietly, ‘Perhaps tomorrow? We can stay in. I’ll make dinner and get some wine.’
‘Sorry, darling. It sounds great, but I won’t be able to make it.’ There was a genuine note of regret in his reply. ‘I’m leaving first thing in the morning. I have to go north for a few days on business and I won’t be back till Saturday.’
Her heart sank. Everything seemed to be going wrong. First that dark stranger with his thinly veiled threat, and now the prospect of being left on her own for the best part of a week.
Damien’s voice came again, cautiously optimistic. ‘I thought it would be a good idea if you went down to the cottage in Kent. It would give you a chance of a rest. I can drive straight down there and join you on Saturday. Then we can spend the following week together.’
She immediately brightened up. ‘That’s a brilliant idea, darling. I’ll pack a few things and leave the day after tomorrow.’
They spoke for a few more minutes, discussing details, then she hung up. Finishing her drink, she went to the window and peered down into the darkened street below. Finally, satisfied that there was no one remotely looking like Kassim Riffik hanging about in the shadows, she drew the curtains, put the safety-chain on the door and went to bed. All right, she told herself firmly, perhaps she was being childish—but there was no sense in taking any chances.
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_68456c8f-1e28-54d7-92b2-3da0d82a6aba)
IN THE morning, over breakfast, Janene made up her mind to leave for the cottage that very day. There was no point in staying here alone with nothing to do. If she went down today she could give the place a good clean and airing, and perhaps do a bit of decorating before Damien arrived.
But first there was the lunch-date with Sally. She wasn’t looking forward to it, but she didn’t like breaking promises. It wasn’t that she had anything against Sally. They’d been the best of friends, as well as being business partners, in the past. But it was the past she was trying to forget, and a meeting with Sally would only resurrect buried memories and guilt.
She tidied the flat, changed from jeans and sweater into her favourite pale cream linen suit, then packed her suitcase. Finally she locked up the flat, then went downstairs and put her suitcase in the boot of her car. Knowing the futility of trying to find a parking space in the West End, she left the car in the mews garage and went in search of a taxi.
The Red Candle Grill and Bar had been a favourite haunt of theirs in the old days, and as her eyes got used to the subdued lighting she saw that the place hadn’t changed much.
Neither had Sally. Still the same restless, youthful energy, although she had to be in her late twenties by now. Still the same mass of tight, black curls, and large, pink-framed glasses. She was wearing a smartly cut business suit in charcoal-grey and at the moment she was somehow managing to look pleased and slightly annoyed at the same time.
‘So what’s the matter?’ she demanded as Janene settled herself opposite. ‘Have I got the plague or something? Four times I phoned last week and four times you said you were busy. We’re old friends, right? Old friends should never be too busy for a chat and a meal together.’
Janene lowered her eyes and murmured, ‘I’m sorry. Things have been a little hectic lately.’
‘Hmm… Busy social life, eh?’
The scepticism in the voice made her wince. She should have known better than to try to fob Sally off with a lie. Sally was too perceptive.
Sally tossed the menu across the table. ‘I’m having the veal.’
‘Then I’ll have the same. I hope it’s as good as it used to be.’
‘It is. Take my word for it.’ Sally beckoned a waiter, gave the order, then settled back in her seat with her martini. ‘Aren’t you going to ask me how the business is doing?’
She smiled. ‘Of course. How are things?’
‘Huh!’ Sally snorted. ‘I wish you hadn’t asked, but since you have I’ll tell you. I’m standing on tiptoes and the water is up to my chin.’ She sighed and shrugged. ‘It’s tough for everyone in this damned recession. I shouldn’t complain. At least I can still afford to eat here.’ She laughed. ‘Do you remember the greasyspoon we used to eat in up in Camden?’
Janene nodded and felt a tug of nostalgia for the old days. Camden, in North London. That was where it had all started…
They’d first met while browsing around the stalls in the street-market, and they’d taken an instant liking to each other. Over coffee and hamburgers in a cafe, they’d bemoaned the limited choice of goods on offer in the market and had decided there and then to go into business for themselves. They’d pooled their capital and opened a stall specialising in unusual costume jewellery and accessories. Within two years they’d owned a string of boutiques across London.
In those days she’d been just as single-minded and aggressive as Sally, and they’d carved their way to success through a hostile world of reluctant bank managers and cut-throat competitors.
In her case, at least, the real reward hadn’t been the money but the feeling of independence and accomplishment. Much to the consternation of her staid and rather old-fashioned parents, she’d always rebelled against the idea that it was a man’s world, and a woman’s role was to settle down and be a good little housewife.
They had been pleased about her success, of course, but she had sensed their underlying disappointment. They had wanted grandchildren, but their only child was more interested in a career than motherhood. She hadn’t even had a boyfriend—at least none she cared to date on a regular basis.
It had been guilt just as much as a spirit of generosity that had prompted her to treat them to a month’s holiday in Florida, all expenses paid. And it had probably been a wish not to hurt her feelings that had made them accept.
She’d driven them to Heathrow, hugged them both, told them to have a wonderful time and not forget to write, and then watched as the jet thundered down the runway and rose gracefully into the air…
‘I want you back in the business with me.’
Sally’s voice broke into her thoughts and she blinked. ‘What?’
‘I want you back in the business,’ Sally repeated impatiently. ‘We can come to some agreement right now. Come on, Janene. What do you say? We were a great team once. We can do it again.’
The waiter arrived with the meal and Janene heaved a mental sigh of relief. ‘Let’s eat first and give me time to think about it,’ she prevaricated.
Resuming her career was the last thing in the world she intended doing, but she hated the thought of letting Sally down. It had been the realisation that something like this might happen that had made her reluctant to come in the first place.
Respecting her wishes, Sally didn’t pursue the matter until they were having coffee, then she asked abruptly, ‘Well? Have you thought about it? Do we have a deal or not?’
All through the meal her mind had been grappling with the problem, and now she said, ‘I’d like to help you all I can, Sally. If you’re going through a bad patch, I’d be glad to help out financially. You only need to ask.’
Sally eyed her in frustration, then, in her usual straightforward manner, got straight to the point. ‘That isn’t the reason for this meeting, Janene. You’re the one that needs help, not me. It’s been a year since that—that terrible accident. You should be over it by now. You can’t let it affect your whole life.’
‘I—I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ she muttered into her cup.
‘Of course you do!’ Sally said in irritation. ‘You keep blaming yourself and that’s silly. You’ve put your head under the blanket and you’re determined to keep it there. I’m giving you the chance to grab hold of life again.’ She gave a little shrug. ‘I’m not saying it’s going to be easy. But it’s surely worth a try. At least, if you’re busy, you won’t have time to brood.’
Janene had been listening, dull-eyed, but now she summoned up a smile and said with affection, ‘Sally, you’re a wonderful friend. No one could ask for any better. But there’s really no need to worry about me. The fact is that I’m getting married shortly.’
Sally’s eyes widened and her mouth opened in astonishment. ‘Janene! That’s marvellous!’ She leaned across the table in excitement. ‘You’ve got to tell me all about him. I’ll bet he’s absolutely gorgeous. What’s his name? Is he rich? Not that that matters, but it helps. Where did you meet him?’
She laughed. ‘Hold on! One thing at a time. First of all, his name is Damien. He’s tall, with brown hair and grey eyes. He works for himself. He’s a financial adviser and I met him six months ago.’
‘Six months ago! And you’ve been keeping him to yourself all this time! Why didn’t you let me know?’
‘I—I was getting around to it,’ she murmured. ‘Anyway, I want you to be my bridesmaid at the wedding. Will you?’
‘Just try and stop me,’ Sally threatened, bubbling over with enthusiasm. ‘When is the wedding?’
‘Well, we haven’t actually got round to fixing the date yet,’ Janene confessed quietly. ‘Damien is very busy at the moment.’
Sally’s eyebrows rose a fraction. ‘I see… You mean, he’s going to marry you when he can spare the time?’ Giving her head a slight shake of disapproval, she took another sip of her coffee, then laid her cup down and sighed in apology. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. At least he sounds as if he’ll be a good provider.’ She smiled brightly. ‘So? When am I going to meet him? Just let me know the time and place. I’ll dust off one of my old boyfriends and we’ll have a foursome. Dinner, then a nightclub.’
The idea appealed to Janene. ‘I’d like that, Sally. I really would like you to meet him. I’ll be out of town for a few days, but as soon as I get back I’ll get in touch and let you…’ Her voice trailed off and the colour drained from her face as she caught sight of the man at the bar.
Sally eyed her with concern. ‘What’s wrong? Do you feel ill?’
The man had his back to them, but he was tall and slim and had raven-black hair and a way of standing… He turned to greet a companion and Janene let out a sigh of relief. ‘It—it’s nothing,’ she stammered. ‘I thought I saw someone I met at a party last night.’
Sally turned in her seat. ‘Do you mean that dishylooking guy at the bar?’
‘Yes. But I was wrong.’ This was ridiculous, she fold herself. She was acting like a nervous idiot. The chances of her ever running into Kassim Riffik again were negligible. He was probably back in Morocco by now, where he belonged.
‘So, what did this man at the party do to scare you?’ asked Sally, eager for a bit of gossip. ‘And don’t say that he didn’t. You looked as if you’d seen a ghost a moment ago.’
‘Nothing,’ she answered firmly. ‘It was all in my imagination.’ Before Sally could interrogate her any further on the subject, she called the waiter over and settled the bill with her credit card. ‘It’s my treat,’ she announced to Sally. ‘And don’t argue.’
The first boutique they’d opened, The Cat’s Eye, was only a few minutes’ walk away and Sally insisted on dragging her along to see her latest range of stock. The manageress took the opportunity for a break, and as Janene took her place behind the glass-topped counter she felt a stirring of familiar excitement.
She was busy casting a professional eye over the display when a customer came in, and it seemed the most natural thing in the world to switch on her sales technique. Ten minutes later the woman, who’d only come in for a pair of ear-rings, happily left with a matching bracelet and necklace.
‘You haven’t lost the touch,’ Sally remarked in approval. ‘And you were really enjoying yourself. Go on…admit it. You feel at home behind that counter, don’t you?’
Janene looked around the boutique regretfully, then shook her head. ‘My mind is made up, Sally. I’m getting married.’
‘Yes—’ Sally gave a despondent shrug ‘—so you’ve told me. But if things don’t work out… Well, you know where to come.’
It was just after five in the evening when Janene arrived at the cottage in the depths of the Kent countryside. On the way she’d stopped at the supermarket in Ashford and loaded up the Volvo with enough tinned and frozen food to last a fortnight.
Isolated and hidden behind high hedges, the cottage was half timbered, with a thatched roof and strong shutters on the windows. An ideal retreat from the world. It had belonged to her parents, and she’d spent many happy weekends here as a child.
A few weeks after her parents’ funeral she’d come down, intending to spend some time on her own, but the memories it evoked were too painful and she’d fled back to London after only one night. For a while after that she’d toyed with the idea of selling the cottage, but then she’d met Damien and he’d persuaded her to change her mind. The cottage was a sound investment, he’d said, and though the market for this type of property was depressed at the moment it was bound to pick up sooner or later.
The place smelt damp and musty after being closed up for so long, but she soon had a log fire blazing in the hearth, then, arming herself with a bottle of red wine and a glass, she went into the kitchen and began preparing a light supper. The memories weren’t so bad now. She was learning to live with them.
The following day was warm and sunny and, throwing the windows and doors wide open, she vacuumed and scrubbed and polished the place from top to bottom. By evening she was stiff and aching, but everything was done to her satisfaction, and she rewarded herself with a long, luxuriating soak in the bath.
That night, relaxing with a glass of wine in front of another blazing fire, she was glad that she’d taken Damien’s advice to hold on to the cottage. Instead of selling it, she’d keep it. When they were married, this would be the ideal place to relax and unwind. The nearest house was half a mile away, so there were no noisy neighbours to disturb the peace and tranquillity. And eventually, of course, they’d be able to bring their own children here. Her parents would have liked that if they’d still been alive.
A sudden noise from outside caught her attention and drew her to the window. She peered out into the night but saw nothing. It had sounded like a rattle from the gate at the foot of the path, and she opened the door and called out nervously, ‘Who’s there? What do you want?’
There was no answer from the menacing darkness, and she strained her ears. From the woods to the left there was a fluttering of wings and the hoot of an owl. The river at the back of the cottage gurgled softly.
She stood for a moment longer, her breath quick and nervous, then, biting her lip, she closed the door and made sure that it was securely locked and bolted.
Pouring herself another glass of wine, she sat down by the fire again and told herself not to be such a coward. It had probably been nothing more sinister than a fox out foraging for scraps. It was that man Riffik who was to blame for the state of her nerves. All that talk about corsairs snatching people from their beds. Well, there was little chance of an ocean-going boat making its way up that tittle river.
No, she decided. She had nothing to fear from him. Damien had been right. Kassim Riffik was the hot-blooded Mediterranean type. All talk and come-to-bed eyes. Chatting up strange women was just a way of life to men like him, as natural as eating and drinking.
