The Boss's Virgin(29)

'Oh, yes, you were. But you didn't need to be! I told you that  yesterday. Yes, she's drop-dead gorgeous, but I'm not a romantic boy any  more. I want a woman to have a lot of other qualities. Beauty isn't  everything. In fact, beauty isn't very much at all. It's just a façade.  To be a real woman you need a heart, warmth, caring. And I want a woman  with a sense of humour, brains … all Renata offers is what she looks like,  and that isn't enough for me now.'

His grey eyes were deadly serious; she had doubted him yesterday but now  she was ready to believe him. She had seen the cynicism in his face as  he watched his ex-wife. Renata didn't take him in.

Johnny ran into the room a moment later and his father got up to greet him, raking back his slightly dishevelled black hair.

'Hello, enjoyed your cartoons?'

'Yeah. When are we having lunch?' the boy demanded.

Randal looked at his watch, made a surprised face. It's half past twelve. 'Do you want to go down now?'

'Yes, please.'

'You've got ice cream round your mouth,' Pippa gently reminded him. 'Maybe we should all go to the bathroom before we leave?

'Okay.' Johnny streaked away and his father shuddered.

'I wish I had his energy! Not to mention his stomach. He's hardly  digested that ice cream but already he's thinking about more food!

'He's a growing boy!' Pippa grinned; she found Johnny's unashamed  delight in food amusing. But then she liked the boy a lot; in some ways  he reminded her of his father, in other ways he was very much himself.  She had grown very fond of him.

After lunch Johnny and Randal changed into their riding clothes to go to  the stables. Pippa curled up on a couch in the sitting room and watched  a TV programme.

While Johnny was putting on his boots, Randal said quietly to her, 'You're sure you won't come?'

She shook her head, keeping her face blank. 'I'd rather stay here and rest.'

He hesitated, eyeing her shrewdly. 'I hope you aren't planning to bolt again? You will be here when we get back?'

She tossed her hair back, making a face. 'Oh, don't be tiresome! Just go, will you?'

Johnny appeared before Randal had the chance to say anything else, and the two of them left.

As soon as they had gone Pippa hurried into her bedroom and packed  everything. She could not stay here; she had a sense of impending  disaster. It was blindingly obvious that if she didn't get away she  would find herself being stampeded into marrying Randal, and every time  she thought about that violent alarm bells went off inside her head and  heart.                       
       
           



       

She took her case down to Reception and asked them to get her a taxi to the nearest railway station.

'Will the other members of your party be staying on, or are they leaving  too?' the receptionist asked, looking at her suspiciously, obviously  wondering if she was bolting without paying the bill.

'Yes, they're staying tonight, but they've gone rid-ing at the local  stables. They should be back in a couple of hours. Their luggage is all  upstairs.'

The receptionist rang a taxi firm, then told her, 'The cab should be here in ten minutes.'

She sat down and waited, gazing out into the hotel grounds. The trees  tossed restlessly in the brisk wind but the sun was shining and  wallflowers in a large raised bed sent waves of strong scent into the  hotel foyer.

The taxi arrived and drove her to the railway station. She was lucky;  there was a train to London only a quarter of an hour later. She got to  town in time to catch her connecting train into Essex and was back at  her cottage by six.

Her nerves were on edge, wondering if Randal would ring, but the evening passed without hearing from him.

She made herself scrambled egg on toast for supper and went to bed quite  early, feeling absolutely exhausted. She woke up in the night crying,  tears pouring down her face after a dream she couldn't remember at all  except that it had left her with a sense of terrible loss and  loneliness.

She got up and went downstairs, made herself hot chocolate and took it  back to bed, sat up against banked pillows sipping it, trying to  remember what her dream had been about She couldn't track it down,  though, just remember the feelings.

The trouble was, her mind was in confusion: torn, divided, constantly  swinging between dread of seeing Randal again, of having to face his  insistence that she must marry him, and a yearning to be with him, to be  in his arms, in his bed.

He was right, of course; now that she had got to know Johnny she liked  him, was already fond of him. Randal had shrewdly guessed that that  would happen. By introducing her to his son he had hoped to disarm her  and he had done it. She knew she no longer resented Johnny's place in  his father's affections, no longer wanted Randal to put her first at his  son's expense. How could she want to supplant that poor, sad little  boy, whose mother couldn't be bothered with him, who had been starved of  Renata's affection all his short life?

Johnny was a lively, intelligent child who mostly hid his emotional  problems, but Pippa had learnt that they existed, had seen the boy's  hurt response to his mother's rejection.

No, she no longer wanted to come first with Randal. Johnny needed his father's love as much as she did.

But she still couldn't marry Randal. She had been puzzled at first,  hadn't been able to work out why she was so scared, but in the silence  of that spring night she faced up to the reasons. She couldn't take the  risk. It was that simple. She was scared. Marrying Randal would be like  bungee jumping off a cliff, afraid the rope would break, afraid she  would hit the ground and be killed or horribly maimed.

She had been emotionally maimed last time. Four years ago she had had  the guts to walk away from him, but she had been damaged by doing it.  When they'd met again she had rationalised her instinctive need for  flight, for getting away from him, had told herself it was because he  had chosen his wife and child over her before and she needed a man who  would put her first every time, but now she knew it hadn't been that at  all.

She was simply afraid of getting hurt again. It was a case of the burnt child fearing the fire. She couldn't take the risk.

Finishing her hot chocolate, she switched off the lamp and lay down in  the dark. She must clear her mind of Randal, mustn't let herself think  about him, must not keep turning over thoughts of him. She had to get  some sleep. She was so tired. And no more dreams!

The answer was to think of something else. A holiday! That would keep  her mind busy. Where should she go? Spain? Italy? At this time of year  anywhere in the Mediterranean would be wonderful-not too hot, not too  crowded. She must go to a travel agent and book herself two weeks in  some lovely place.

She would probably go to a seaside resort, but one which could offer  fascinating places to visit too. Somehow Italy seemed to her at this  moment to offer more. She would get a brochure and choose somewhere.  Anywhere, it didn't matter where, because she knew nothing much about  Italy. Wherever she went it would be new and exciting.                       
       
           



       

She must have fallen asleep quite quickly because the next time she woke  up it was morning and the room was full of golden light.

It was a lovely morning; spring was slowly turning into summer, the  lilacs were out in clusters of white and purple, the roses were budding  and the air was rich with the scent of blossom.

Pippa got up, showered, put on jeans and a white T-shirt, blow-dried her chestnut hair, then went downstairs for breakfast.

She had bran cereal with fresh fruit, which she sliced into her bowl:  apple, banana, grapes. With it she drank a small glass of orange juice  and then a cup of black coffee. After that she did some housework and  then went out into the garden to mow the lawn.

While she was doing that Tom arrived, came round the side of the house to find her.

'Where have you been?' he demanded.

Switching off the mower, she smiled at him, pushing back her hair from her sun-flushed face.

'Hello, Tom. I was visiting a friend.'

'What friend?' He had that belligerent look she was coming to recognise. 'I suppose you mean Harding?

'Tom, don't start on one of those inquisitions. I don't have to tell you who I see, or where I go. So don't bark at me.

He made a growling noise in his throat like an angry dog and showed his  teeth. 'We may not be getting married, but I still worry about you. The  man's pure poison. Stay away from him!

'I'm not discussing him with you, any more than I'd discuss you with him!'

'What does he say about me?' he broke out, very red in the face.

She groaned. 'Oh, for heaven's sake, Tom! Why are you here and what do you want?'

After a seething pause, he said, 'I wanted to work out a timetable for  the sale of the house. I can put down a deposit whenever you like, but  when, exactly, do you want to exchange contracts?'