Australia: Wicked Mistresses(81)

That day, she felt entitled to leave a message on his voicemail and his house phone, which also went unanswered. And even though she felt nauseous and lonely, she forced herself to go out that night to a film premiere with two friends. They bumped into Jason Cook and went clubbing. When Nick didn’t call over the rest of the weekend, even after she’d left several more messages, she went out both nights and made sure she was photographed.

The trial entered its expected last week, but still Nick didn’t show and her phone remained silent. Oh, why had she allowed herself to hope, to believe that she was enough for him? She would have been happy, she was happy knowing it was just sex, until he made her fall in love with him.

Forget him! She called Jason and a few of the party hounds she used to spend time with. It was easy to slip right back into party mode, like the Jordan of old. Club openings, premieres, she attended every glitzy occasion she could think of to court the press. Even the tummy bug that lingered didn’t stop her, although she was unable to stomach alcohol. Nick Thorne had blown it, she thought angrily. No one rejected Jordan Lake! She intended to make him so jealous he’d come crawling and then, she’d kick him aside like a dog.

Only he didn’t come crawling. Jordan played at being the life of the party because she dreaded going to bed. The only way she could contain the pain slicing her up inside was to curl into a ball, rocking and hugging herself hard enough to bruise her flesh. In this bed, he had made love to her, had kissed her goodbye for the last time. Unshed tears dogged her day and night, making her eyes and throat ache. What was so wrong with her that he didn’t want her anymore?

One night in a crowded club, someone tapped her on the shoulder and she turned to find Adam Thorne smiling down at her.

“Are you going to have me thrown out of here as well?” he asked jovially.

Jordan responded to his friendly manner like a lifeline. They’d never had an official introduction so they remedied that now. Her friends raised their brows and whispered about how hot he was. Adam was considered one of the most eligible bachelors in the city. But she could see little of Nick in his face. There was no magic there.

She longed to ask about him but knew the hurt was too close. Her heart may just break and bleed all over the floor. No one must see how empty and sad and hurt she was.

Adam stood behind her chair, bending his head to hear over the music. They chatted for some time about the case and their impossible fathers. “You know, I told Nick the best way to end this stupid feud is to hook up with you.”

The knife in her heart twisted painfully but she managed to keep some semblance of a smile, she hoped. “Really? When?”

“When the trial started.” Adam sent a huge smile of welcome to a pretty woman who’d just entered the club. Jordan recognized her as Nick’s secretary.

“Nick wants to run Thorne’s,” Adam said distractedly. “He can’t do that while the old man is around, and the old man is so busy chasing your old man around a courtroom, he won’t retire.”

“And what did Nick say?” she asked faintly, chewing on the straw of her drink.

Adam straightened, still looking at the woman. “Oh, Nick’s way too clever to take my advice. It was nice meeting you at last, Jordan Lake. See you in court.” He paused and winked at her. “I’ve always wanted to say that.”

Jordan sat for at least a minute with the same stupid, dazed smile on her mouth, trying to make sense of it. He had a plan? A sick dread blanketed down over the misery of unrequited love in her heart.

Was it right from the start? she thought dazedly—no, Adam had said the start of the trial. That was about the time things changed between them. He’d started bringing gifts and acting jealous.

She tried to breathe but the ache inside constricted her chest. Dear God, he’d planned it all along. He didn’t want her. This wasn’t about them. It was a cold, calculated plan to get her to fall in love with him and realize his ambitions.

The reality twisted the knife some more, causing bile to rush to her throat. She rushed to the bathroom where she was violently sick. Someone helped her out of the club and into a cab. And the tabloids faithfully reported her incapacity the next day.

“You’re certainly burning the candle at both ends, dear,” her mother commented. “What on earth were you drinking?”

“I hadn’t had anything,” Jordan said defensively. Her mother had a knack of drawing her secrets to the fore. Her broken heart was one secret she wouldn’t discuss, not with her mother or anyone else. She couldn’t bear the humiliation. “I have a bug, that’s all.”

By day, she sat in court, staring stiffly ahead, acutely aware of the empty space across the aisle. After her fifth consecutive night out, she was exhausted and low as she could ever remember feeling. The lack of sleep and this interminable tummy bug had her head spinning, so on Wednesday night, she bought a home pregnancy test. It was just a precaution. She was ninety-nine percent certain she wasn’t pregnant; surely she’d feel something—a bond, a connection—instead of just miserable and confused and god-awful sick.

The digital display on the stick flashed Pregnant.

No, no, no. This couldn’t be happening.

When was her last period? Things had been so up in the air lately. Working bees, nosy newspapers, charity balls. Nick. Taking a deep breath, churning up with nerves, she took the second stick from the box.

She was late to court on Thursday. Her heels seemed inordinately loud on the wooden floor as she entered. Heads turned in the gallery and the judge gave her a baleful look. “Sorry,” she whispered loudly.

And then she saw. He turned his head and looked straight at her, his expression cold. Scathing.

Jordan sat shakily, absorbing the rush of elation that always came with seeing his face. The emptiness inside her began to fill…but then his icy expression filtered through her joy.

Her stomach churned. What gave him the right to look at her like that? It was she who should feel aggrieved. He’d used and discarded her without so much as a word.

You have to tell him.

“Not yet,” she whispered. Her mother turned and looked at her, eyes full of concern. Jordan could only shake her head mutely.

Not yet. Home pregnancy tests were not foolproof. She would say nothing until she had seen a doctor. Which doctor? She couldn’t rely on the discretion of the Elpis Clinic doctors—they were all volunteers.

He’d think she’d trapped him. Worse, he’d question whether he was the father. So many morbid thoughts surged through her brain, even as common sense told her Nick was a decent, responsible man. He’d do the right thing by her.

It was the longest morning of her life. She made it until lunchtime, then bolted for the bathroom, throwing up for the third time that week.

When she came out, Nick was about to descend the steps outside, alone. Jordan felt like death but she couldn’t cope with the misery any longer. Forcing herself to stop shaking, she filled her heart with steely determination.

He’d shoved his hands in his pockets and his head was bowed. For a brief moment, as she approached, she thought he looked unhappy. But then all the tortured hours of the last week or so swamped her. He’d made her feel a failure as a woman, a lover, a friend. She wasn’t about to let him off scot free. She strode up behind him, grasping his arm firmly. “I want to talk to you.”

As he swung around to face her, just for a second, she saw something so uplifting, so eager in his face, as if he was glad to see her. But then the shutters came down like the night. His cold, closed expression slayed her.

This wasn’t the man she knew—thought she knew. This was someone else entirely. She almost quailed before him and if she hadn’t just lost her breakfast, that would have been a real possibility.

Nick glanced around quickly. “This isn’t the time or…”

“Well, if you’d returned my calls…” Jordan felt like she was swimming in treacle. But then he grasped her arm and pulled her around the side of the building, out of sight of the trickle of people emerging from the court.

“I’m surprised you could drag yourself out of bed this morning—whose bed was it today? Do you even remember?”

Oh, that was a slap in the face. Okay, she had played the party girl this week but that was down to him.

She pried her arm out of his grasp. “What is it with you?” she demanded. “All over me one minute, then nothing?” Her voice rose high and shrill and she sucked in a furious breath. She didn’t know him. His tight, hard face mocked her. A nasty, bilious taste rose from her chest, burning her throat.

She swayed, fear flooding her. Fear that she’d throw up right here. Fear that the next words said would be their final words ever. “I thought we had—” her voice cracked and broke “—something special.”

His expression did not change. She hadn’t reached him, only given him another chance to kick her. A hard little knot of anger formed. That was a mistake she wouldn’t make again.

“Looks like you’ve been enjoying a lot of something special with a lot of men,” he muttered, not looking at her as if the sight of her made him sick. “How’s Jason?”