Sinful Nights(82)

I wanted to do it. Let's face it, Claire, I could have offered to pay  for the damage in the first place, then you wouldn't have needed to  marry me.' He held up his hand when she would have interrupted. No, I'm  not implying that you married me purely for material reasons-I know how  much you love Heather-but you have to admit that it was an excellent  lever, and I used it deliberately. In fact, that storm couldn't have  come at a better time as far as I was concerned. If you hadn't had to  move in here, we would have had to have a long courtship, with all its  attendant problems, and for selfish reasons I wanted our marriage  accomplished fast. I've already made the mistake of trapping one woman  into marriage; I wanted to give you an escape route if you ever felt you  needed it. I was going to suggest that when the work is complete you  let the cottage-everyone likes to have their own financial independence;  it won't bring in much, but at least it will be yours.'

His sensitivity made her want to weep. How long had it been since a man, any man, had shown her such consideration, such care?

Almost without thinking she leaned forward, touching the side of his  face with her fingers. Oh, Jay, I just don't know what to say!'

He turned his head, his fingers clasping her wrist, and she gasped as  she felt the warm pressure of his mouth against the palm of her hand.

The moment she tensed he released her.

Sorry.' His voice sounded gruff. I'd forgotten.'

It  …  it doesn't matter. I'll go and make some coffee.' Claire stood up  shakily and hurried into the kitchen. How on earth could she have  explained to him that her tension had come not from the warm contact of  his mouth against her palm, but from her own totally unexpected reaction  to it? She had liked it; she had enjoyed the totally pleasurable  sensation that had shot through her body.    

 



 

HE WAS AT HOME FOR FIVE days, just enough time to go shopping with the  girls to buy advent calendars, and to keep them occupied while Claire  sneaked their carefully chosen presents into the house. And then he was  gone. Back to Dallas to discuss the final details of the contract.

The American client was a builder, specialising in prestigious new  houses, for which he wanted only the finest craftsmanship. Of a  neo-Georgian design, their proportions lent themselves well to the  reproduction plasterwork Jay's company produced, but the American  lawyers were finicking over every detail, and so Jay and his solicitor  had to fly out once again.

It worried Claire how much she missed him. She oughtn't to have done;  after all, she had never wanted a husband-but Jay wasn't just a husband,  he was a person who made her laugh, who treated her as an equal, who  filled out and warmed her life in a way she could never have believed  possible.

She went with him to the airport, where he was meeting his solicitor,  and was surprised by the sudden surge of desolation that struck her as  he walked away. She wanted to cling on to him, to  …  Abruptly her body  tensed as she watched his retreating back. Confusion and panic replaced  desolation. What was happening to her? She mustn't become emotionally  dependent on Jay as well as financially dependent on him.

The days flew by, excitement mounting as the girls opened door after  door on their advent calendars. They were both in the school play-nearly  everyone in the school was involved in it in one way or another. Claire  went to see them, and took Mrs Vickers with her because Jay was still  away.

The last few days before Christmas trickled away far too fast. Jay rang  three days before Christmas Eve to warn her that he could only get home  at the last minute. Claire, who had put off buying and dressing a tree  in the hope that he would be home in time, took the girls to the local  garden centre and they chose one together, but it wasn't the same as it  would have been if Jay had been with her.

After Christmas, work would start on the house, but until then she had  warmed up the sitting-room with deep pink and blue  satinised-cotton-covered cushions and a large, toning rug.

But without Jay in it the house lacked something Claire recognised; she  missed his vibrantly masculine presence. A trickle of awareness ran down  her spine, a sense of danger and unease. She didn't want to miss Jay,  to be so conscious of his absences. She dismissed her thoughts as  foolish, but something lingered, some faint frisson of knowledge that  she determinedly forced into the back of her mind to think about  later-much, much later.





CHAPTER EIGHT


THE NIGHT BEFORE Christmas Eve, they decorated the tree. Claire sat  looking at it after the girls had gone to bed, watching the soft dazzle  of the tiny pinpoints of light. Everything was ready: the presents were  wrapped, including the appallingly expensive desk filing system she had  bought for Jay, the turkey was keeping cold in the garage, all the  shopping was done, and for once even the weather was in tune with the  season. It had been cold all day, and now the night sky had a dull glow  that presaged snow.

Everything was ready, but Jay was not here to share it with them. She  told herself that she was disappointed for the girls, that it was  because of them that that small ball of pain lodged deep inside her  wouldn't go away.

She stretched tiredly and got up to tidy away the debris from the tree  decorations. Perhaps if she made some mince pies that might help relax  her.

She went into the kitchen and was soon busily engaged in the ritual of  making pastry. Through the window she saw the first flakes of snow fall,  and was unable to resist the childish impulse to watch. Thick, fat  snowflakes fell from a midnight blue sky, whirling and dancing in a  pattern that mesmerised her. A fine white blanket covered the ground  before she managed to drag herself away.

Snow for Christmas. She finished making her mince pies and put them in the oven.

It was still snowing half an hour later when the pies were cooling on a  rack and she had finished cleaning the kitchen. It was too early to go  to bed, but she felt too keyed up to sit down and watch television or  read a book.

She was just about to make herself a cup of hot chocolate when the back door suddenly opened.

Jay!' She said his name unsteadily, unable to believe it was him. The  snow must have muted the sound of his car. Snowflakes clung to his hair  and jacket.

Somehow, without knowing how it had happened, she had crossed the kitchen floor, her face alight with pleasure.

She touched his arm and grimaced. You're all cold and wet!' She was  standing so close to him that when she looked up she could see the dark  irises of his eyes. As she looked his expression changed and she felt a  strange tension grip her.    

 



 

You're  …  you're back early  … '

Her voice sounded rusty, and she seemed to be having difficulty breathing.

I managed to get an earlier flight; Christmas is no time to be away from home. Girls in bed?'

Yes. Over an hour ago.'

For some reason she felt oddly flat. She moved away from him, checking as he laid his hand on her arm.

Claire.'

She turned towards him, her eyes widening as he bent his head and she  felt the warm brush of his mouth against her own. It was an odd  sensation, that soft touch of warm lips. It made her quiver inside, and  realise on a searing wave of pain that never once in her life had she  been kissed properly.

The sudden shocking hiss of boiling milk spilling on to the cooker  jolted her back to reality, her body stiffening with rejection and fear.  Immediately Jay released her.

I'm sorry.' He sounded weary. For a moment I forgot  … .'

What had he forgotten? That he wasn't coming home to Susie? It doesn't matter  … '

She just caught the expression of grimness tightening his mouth before he turned away.

I was just making myself a cup of chocolate. Would you like one  …  or something to eat?' she asked hurriedly.

These smell good.'

He had obviously recognised her conciliatory offer and was trying to  respond to it, Claire realised as he picked up one of her mince pies and  ate it.

Chocolate will be fine, and then an early night, I think. I ate on the plane.'

Shall we drink it in the sitting-room?'

Those few moments of strained intimacy might never have occurred. On the  surface all was as it had always been, but beneath the surface Claire  was just beginning to realise that there lurked some very treacherous  waters indeed.

What would have happened if the milk hadn't boiled over? Would he have  gone on kissing her? Would she have let him  … ? It was too uncomfortable  an avenue of thought for her to pursue.

You go through; I'll bring the chocolate in a minute.'

The faintly sardonic look he gave her made her face burn. Did he realise  how odd his proximity was making her feel? She felt that she needed to  be alone to get herself back to normal. That brief pressure of his mouth  against hers had unleashed a series of sensations she was till having  difficulty coming to terms with.

It hadn't been dislike or fear she had felt in those few seconds before  reality had intruded, far from it. So, what had she felt? Shock, grief  for all that was missing from her life, and also a frisson of pleasure  so delicate and new to her that even now she wasn't sure if she had  experienced it or merely imagined it. But surely it was impossible to  imagine something like that-something she had never known before in her  life, or dreamed of knowing? Now she had known it.