Savage Awakening(29)

There wasn't much more to say after that, and Matt had put down the phone with a mixture of humiliation and relief.

Which was why he'd taken a bottle of Scotch to bed the night before. Why  he had such a God-awful headache this morning. Although Diane's  accusation hadn't been even close to the truth, the knowledge that  people were judging him for the wrong reasons was mortifying. And,  despite how he felt inside, the fact was he didn't have a hope in hell  of proving them wrong.

He got up at last, had a long, hot shower and then, feeling marginally  better, he dressed in casual khaki trousers and a button-down Oxford  shirt. Breakfast was two cups of strong black coffee and two paracetamol  tablets. He had no milk or he might have had some cornflakes. The  lactose would definitely have put a better lining on his abused stomach.

Whatever, he didn't have a choice and it occurred to him that a trip to  the supermarket in Westerbury might be exactly what he needed. Well,  perhaps not exactly, but he did need to get out of the house, preferably  before Fliss turned up. After the way he'd behaved on Saturday, he  wouldn't blame her if she'd decided she didn't want to work for him,  after all. But he didn't think he could take any more humiliation right  now.

And there was no way he could explain his situation to her without  humiliating himself. Even telling her that she inspired feelings in him  that no one, not even Diane, had ever done would only sound hypocritical  when it was combined with his present inadequacies. She deserved better  than that, better than him, even if there was no denying that since  meeting her he had found himself entertaining thoughts of how things  could be if-

But it was that significant if that created the biggest obstacle. Theirs  was a tenuous relationship at best and no matter how sympathetic she  seemed he doubted it would survive the kind of confession he had to  make. She'd accepted his explanation of how he'd got his injuries with  real compassion. She hadn't even shown any revulsion when he'd told her  about what General Hassan had tried to do. But, she didn't need some  pitiful excuse for a man messing up her life-even if he had to fight the  almost irresistible temptation to incite her attraction to him.

In the event, Fliss arrived before he could get away. Even though it was  only a little after half past eight when he backed the Land Cruiser out  of the garage, he returned to the house to collect his keys and wallet  and found her waiting in the kitchen.                       
       
           



       

It was a cooler day, with the threat of rain in the air, and Fliss's  hair was a tumbled mass of curls and ringlets. She was wearing jeans and  a loose cotton sweater that only hinted at the lush beauty of her  breasts. But the denims clung lovingly to every inch of her legs and  Matt had to drag his eyes away from them.

She'd evidently walked to work as usual, which would account for the  fact that he hadn't heard her approach. He didn't know which of them was  the most embarrassed by the sudden encounter, however.

Fliss recovered first. 'Are you going out?' she asked a little stiffly, and Matt realised how bad this must look.

'I was going to ring you,' he said lamely, even though that idea had just occurred to him. He paused. 'You're early.'

'Yes, I know.' Fliss lifted a hand to tuck a silky strand of red-gold  hair behind her ear and he badly wanted to touch her. 'I-well, I didn't  know if you'd want me to continue working here, and if you didn't I-'

That dispelled his ambivalence and he scowled. 'Why wouldn't I want you  to go on working here?' he broke in harshly, even though he'd been  having similar thoughts. 'For God's sake, you've done nothing wrong.'

'Diane might not agree with you.'

'F-forget Diane,' Matt amended the instinctive swear-word. He found he  was breathing hard in spite of himself. 'Do you want the job or don't  you? That's all I need to know.'

Fliss held up her head. 'But you're going out, aren't you? And it's  early, as you said. Sometimes you're not even out of bed at this time.'

'Yeah, so?'

She drew her lower lip between her teeth for a moment. 'Are you sure you weren't trying to avoid me?'

Matt sighed. 'All right. Maybe I was.' His lips twisted. 'I'm a coward, so sue me.'

'You're not a coward,' said Fliss fiercely. And then, as if realising  she was being too presumptive, she added, 'Anyway, you're just avoiding  the issue. Why were you really going out?'

Matt blew out a breath. 'If you must know, I thought you might not want  to come back,' he admitted. 'After what happened on Saturday-'

'Forget Saturday,' she said, her soft lips tightening purposefully. 'I  have. It was a mistake. On both our parts.' She glanced about her. 'Now,  if it's all right with you, I'd like to get on.'





CHAPTER THIRTEEN





'DID I tell you I was talking to Matthew Quinn in the pub the other night?'

George Taylor spoke almost diffidently and Fliss guessed it was because  he knew damn well he hadn't said anything about it to her. But then, nor  had Matt, she conceded, feeling a ridiculous sense of betrayal. Though  why would he? Since the morning a couple of weeks ago when he'd asked  her to stay on as his housekeeper, he'd hardly spoken to her.

Now Fliss looked up from the accounts she was doing at the kitchen table  and arched an enquiring brow. 'No,' she said, keeping her tone as  casual as possible. 'I didn't know you were on friendly terms with him.'

'Well, I wasn't,' said her father drily, pulling out the chair opposite  and subsiding into it. 'But Harry Gilchrist was there and he sort of  involved me in their conversation.' He paused, waiting for Fliss to say  something and when she didn't he went on, 'He seems a decent sort when  you get to know him.'

'He is.' Fliss returned to her bookkeeping. 'Does this mean you don't object to my working for him now?'

'Well, I don't like you doing the sort of work you do for anybody,'  retorted her father shortly. 'But I suppose, now I've got to know him,  I'm not as opposed to it as I was.'

'Good.' Fliss nodded to the books in front of her. 'Because I have to  tell you that without me having that job we'd be struggling to make ends  meet.'

'All right, all right.' George Taylor didn't like to be reminded of  their financial circumstances. 'Anyway, in a couple of years, when Amy  goes to the comprehensive in Westerbury, you'll be able to resume your  physiotherapy training.'                       
       
           



       

'Will I?' Fliss wasn't as confident of resuming her training as he was.  It was five years since she'd been forced to give it up. Things changed,  qualifications changed, and there were bound to be dozens of newly  qualified, younger applicants for every vacancy. Changing the subject,  she said, 'So-what were you talking to him about?'

'Who? Matthew Quinn?' Fliss gave him a narrow look and he shrugged  defensively. 'We were talking about writing, actually,' he said. 'Did  you know he's thinking of writing a series of articles for a Sunday  newspaper detailing his experiences in Abuqara and giving an insider's  view of the reasons for the rebellion? It sounds fascinating stuff.' He  paused. 'I've told him that if there's anything I can do-research and so  on-he has only to ask.'

'I see.' Fliss's eyes dipped again. 'So you've decided he's not deranged, after all?'

'I never said he was deranged, Felicity.' Her father sounded positively  offended now. 'I said there'd been rumours that he'd been traumatised by  his months in captivity, that's all. And who wouldn't be? From what he  was telling me, it was no picnic.'

'No.' Fliss knew that. The scars on Matt's back were a silent testimony  to his suffering, and there was no point in baiting her father with  things she didn't really believe.

All the same, she couldn't help feeling a little hurt that Matt should  have confided in her father, of all people. It was as if he'd cut her  off from any involvement in his life and, after the closeness they'd  shared, it was painful. But then, she'd left him in no doubt that she  didn't want that kind of relationship with him, so why was she feeling  so let down?

All the same, when she arrived at the house the following morning, Fliss  was unhappily aware that she was still nursing her grievance. But,  dammit, it wasn't her fault that he'd chosen to ruin a perfectly good  working relationship by attempting to seduce her, was it?

There was a strange car parked at the side of the house, and although  Fliss was in the habit of letting herself into the kitchen, she felt  compelled to knock this morning. It could be Diane, she thought  uneasily, and the last thing she wanted was to walk in on a steamy  clinch and embarrass them all.

Well, she doubted she'd embarrass Matt, she decided bitterly. He  wouldn't care about her feelings any more than he apparently cared about  Diane's.

Matt himself opened the door and Fliss, who'd seen little of him in the  past two weeks, was instantly struck by his gaunt appearance. She'd  tried not to pay attention to him, to get on with the work she was being  paid for. But now she was forced to acknowledge that he had that jaded  weariness about him again that she'd noticed when she'd first got to  know him.