Irresistible Temptation(23)

As he put down his briefcase he heard a noise from upstairs, and Jeremy  came into view carrying a travel bag. He checked when he saw Declan.                       
       
           



       

'Oh, hi,' he said with studied nonchalance. 'I didn't expect to see you.'

'No one ever seems to,' Declan commented drily, studying the bag with a  slight frown. 'Did you mention you were going away this weekend?'

'Last-minute decision. Hell of a lot of pressure at work, so I thought I deserved a break.' Jeremy's gaze slid away evasively.

'Going alone?'

'Alas, yes,' Jeremy's tone was airy. 'I'm afraid Maria has made other plans.'

'How unlucky.' Declan's smile did not reach his eyes. Anger was building  inside him, coupled with another emotion that wasn't so easy to  analyse.

'Well-see you late Sunday evening,' Jeremy said, making for the door.

'No doubt,' Declan agreed levelly. 'How's the flat-hunting going, by the way?'

'Not bad.' Jeremy gave him a surprised look. 'A number of distinct possibilities, in fact.'

'I'm glad to hear it,' Declan said softly. 'Let's make your departure sooner rather than later, shall we?'

Jeremy's face went an unbecoming red. He glared at Declan, then stalked to the door, and slammed it behind him for good measure.

Declan strode into the dining room, and splashed whisky into a tumbler.  He took a swift, angry swallow, then went to stand at the French  windows, staring unseeingly at the sunlit garden beyond.

No prizes for guessing the identity of that little bastard's travelling  companion, he thought savagely. And he'd played right into their hands  by allowing her to leave work early. If he'd known, he'd have invented  tasks to keep her around until midnight.

But he should have realised, he thought without pleasure. In the past  couple of days she'd gone from thoughtful and a little subdued to  looking as if she was lit from within with happiness. There had to be a  reason.

Oh, to hell with them both, he told himself, drinking some more whisky. They deserve each other.

And he'd been wasting time and thought on Olivia which could have been  devoted to a more worthwhile cause. He'd give Claudia a call-see if  she'd like to have dinner. Maybe even advise him on the redecoration of  the drawing room which was due. Or something.

He went to the phone and dialled her number. She was flatteringly pleased to hear from him.

'Dinner would be wonderful.' Her voice warmed. 'But why don't you come  here? I'm having some other friends over on Sunday night-just for an  informal supper. I nearly rang you, but I thought you'd probably be  busy.'

'I have been,' Declan said lightly. 'Now I'm looking for some serious relaxation.'

'Oh.' She paused. 'Well, I'll be delighted to help-if you think I can.'

'I can guarantee the possibility,' Declan promised gravely.

He was smiling wryly as he replaced the receiver. If he was any judge,  she'd be burning up her phone line for the rest of the day, trying to  round up some unsuspecting souls for supper on Sunday night.

But so what? he thought with a shrug. She was beautiful, sexy, and  exactly what he needed-for a while anyway. Because he was under no  illusion that she was the other half of him-the woman he needed to  complete his life.

And what he didn't understand, he brooded as he finished his whisky, was how he could suddenly be so sure.

The telephone rang again, and he reached for it 'Sasha?' he queried,  frowning. Is something wrong? Now, slow down, and start from the  beginning …



It was the most mail she'd received since she came to London, but it did  little to lift Olivia's spirits. She'd cried herself to sleep the night  before, and she was close to tears again as she opened the cards from  family and friends in the West Country and read the loving messages,  which somehow only emphasised her sense of isolation.

Her parents had sent her a bracelet of gold links, and she clasped it on  to her wrist There was a bottle of her favourite scent from her sister,  and a long silky scarf patterned in grey, black and silver from her  aunt and uncle too. Beth's pretty amber earrings set in silver she'd  keep for a special occasion-like going home next weekend.

But, for now, she had the next forty-eight hours to get through.

Breakfast over, she went down to Portobello with a rather more sober  list than that of the day before. She was becoming accustomed to the  noise and bustle of the market by now, and knew exactly which shops and  stalls to call at.

Her shopping soon completed, she walked unhurriedly back to Lancey  Terrace. On the way, she saw that the mews house she'd noticed on her  first visit was still for sale.

What a naive idiot I was, she thought, remembering the sweet, silly dream she'd indulged in.

She unpacked her provisions and put them away, then gave her  surroundings a critical glance. She could always improve the day by  giving the flat a thorough cleaning, she thought without enthusiasm. And  she'd start by throwing away Declan's roses, now drooping wanly on  their stems.

I know the feeling, she muttered inwardly, as she carried them gently to  the kitchen, scattering a drift of petals behind her as she went.                       
       
           



       

The knock at the door took her totally by surprise. It couldn't be  Sasha, she thought as she went to answer it, and there was no one  else-unless Jeremy had decided not to go to Scotland after all …

Her throat tightened in a kind of wistful hope as she opened the door on the chain.

'Many happy returns of the day,' said Declan. 'May I come in?'

'Yes,' she said, swallowing. 'Yes, I suppose so.'

'You overwhelm me,' he murmured as he walked past her. 'I thought for a  moment you were going to make me poke your present round the edge of the  door.'

'You've brought me a present?' She stood looking at him in total bewilderment.

'I know it's an unusual thing to do on birthdays,' he said, 'but I'm just a born eccentric.' He handed her a small heavy parcel.

'How did you know it was my birthday?' She bit her lip. 'Sasha again?'

'No,' he said. 'You filled in some forms when you joined the company,  and your personal details are now on the office database. If you're with  us next year, the girls will no doubt organise the usual cake and  champagne.'

'Oh,' she said. 'Well, that's hardly likely-but thank you anyway.'

'You're welcome,' he returned. 'Now you're supposed to offer me coffee, which I sit and drink while you open your parcel.'

Her mouth trembled into a smile. 'Is that the way of it?'

'It is. And if that's your idea of an Irish accent, let me tell you it's rubbish.'

'In that case, make your own coffee,' she retorted with spirit, and he grinned and went past her into the little kitchen.

She sat down, took off the gold striped paper, and unfastened the box  inside. She folded back the layers of tissue and took out the glass  paperweight they'd concealed.

It was a delicate dung, a swirl of misty greys, soft pinks and silver,  and at its centre, crafted in deeper pink, a tiny, perfect rosebud.

She said, 'Oh,' softly, and cradled it in her hand. She looked up as  Declan came back into the room. 'I don't know what to say. It's the most  beautiful thing. You shouldn't … '

'It's a bribe-to persuade you to stay at Academy and put up with my rotten temper.'

She forced a smile. 'Kim might have something to say about that.'

'Kim's going to have a baby. Her ideas may change. I'm told it happens  sometimes.' He paused, then said abruptly, 'Where do you keep your  coffee?'

'In the top left-hand cupboard-but I'll do it … '

'Stay where you are,' he ordered peremptorily. 'You're the birthday girl'

'Yes, sir.' She put the paperweight gently on the table, her fingers lingering on the rounded surface.

He came back with two beakers of steaming coffee, made, she saw, as she  liked it, strong with only a little milk. He must have watched the way  she did it at work.

'So, what are your plans for the rest of the day?' He sat down across the table from her.

'I don't think I have any,' Olivia said, taken aback.

'You can't intend to sit here alone all day. Not on your birthday.'

She traced the pattern on the beaker with her forefinger. 'Well,  originally I thought I'd go on the river-go to the Tower of London.'

'What's stopping you?'

'It was a stupid idea,' she said slowly. 'A really naff thing to do. I see that now.'

'I think it's great,' Declan said crisply. 'May I go with you?'

She looked up at him, startled. 'Why should you want to do that?'

He shrugged. 'Because, like you, I've never been to the Tower.'

'You're not serious,' she said.

'I'm going to drink this coffee,' he said, 'and then you have fifteen minutes to get ready.'

She looked down at her cream cotton pants and black rollneck sweater. 'I don't need to change.'

'No,' he said. 'But you need some make-up, or people will think I've  been cruel to you, and hate me for making you cry all night'

Colour swamped her face. She said in a suffocated voice, 'You're wrong-I haven't'

'Don't fib.' His voice was gentle. 'And don't run away either, because I'd only come after you. You know that, don't you?'