The Perfect Seduction, page 8
The baby gurgled delightfully up at him, a huge smile curling her mouth.
‘You can tell she’s going to be a man’s woman,’ Olivia said, laughing fondly as she, too, got to her feet. ‘I’ll ring you later ... about seven,’ she told Bobbie as she walked with her towards the exit. Then unexpectedly Olivia reached out and gave Bobbie a swift hug. ‘Oh, please don’t say no,’ she pleaded. ‘I know you’re going to be just right, and by the way, I forgot to say, you can live in with us if that’s convenient for you. You’d have your own room and bathroom, but if you prefer not to, then that’s equally fine.’
Bobbie had just got as far as the bank of lifts that gave access to the upper floors of the hotel when she heard Luke calling her name with crisp firmness. Suppressing a childish urge to pretend she hadn’t heard him and step into the lift that had temptingly opened, she turned round.
His ‘I want a word with you,’ instead of intimidating her as she suspected he had intended, made her straighten her spine and draw herself up to her full height, an impressive and, to some men she knew, an awesome sight, not one that sat well with their vulnerable male egos. However, it was obvious that Luke was not exactly impressed, but then of course, she did still have to tilt her chin just that betraying little bit extra in order to look into his eyes.
‘Why did you let me think that you were having lunch with Max?’ he asked her without preamble.
‘I let you think?’ Bobbie queried dryly.
‘You know what I mean,’ he flung back curtly. ‘You were perfectly aware of what I thought but you didn’t correct my misconception.’
‘Didn’t I?’ Bobbie asked him dulcetly, and then seeing that they were beginning to attract the interested and amused attention of a small group of people waiting to step into the adjacent lift, she told him quickly and quietly, ‘Whom I do or do not choose to have lunch with is no business of yours.’
‘Max is a married man,’ he reminded her grittily.
‘And so you keep saying, and for all you know I may very well be a married woman,’ Bobbie retaliated.
‘What?’
The look in his eyes as he stepped forward and took hold of her upper arm, drawing her back out of earshot of anyone else and into the partially secluded shadows of the corridor, gave her such a shock that she actually felt physically weak and light-headed.
‘Are you married?’ she heard him demanding.
‘No,’ Bobbie admitted shakily.
She had heard of people going weak with fear and even with nervousness but to actually feel this intense sense of physical dizziness simply because of the way a man was looking at her... A phrase she had heard a girlfriend use once and at the time teased her for suddenly came back to her.
‘He makes me feel quite literally weak with lust,’ she had said.
Weak with lust—her—for a man whom she positively disliked. Never. Impossible. She must be imagining things, getting her signals all mixed up.
‘Do you intend to accept this job that Olivia’s offered you?’ she heard Luke asking her abruptly.
‘I don’t know, I haven’t made up my mind yet. Why are you asking me all these questions?’ she asked him defensively, wishing that her voice didn’t sound quite so vulnerable and breathless and that her heart wasn’t beating quite so betrayingly fast.
He had released her arm now but he was still standing very close to her, and to her chagrin, she could actually feel her body reacting to the proximity of him. Thank the Lord she was wearing a jacket, because there was simply no way she could have passed off the sudden burgeoning of her nipples as a mere automatic reaction to an adverse change in temperature, and she knew that if Luke could see what she was feeling, he would be as aware as she was herself of what was happening to her.
He still hadn’t answered her question but as she started to look past him, back towards the lifts, he told her bluntly, ‘Well, let’s just say I’m following the same line of investigation as when I asked why you had a penchant for visiting graveyards.’
Bobbie could feel the anxious tension starting to chum her stomach. ‘Look,’ she told him huskily, ‘that was just a coincidence.’
‘So you said earlier,’ he agreed, ‘but not, I have to say, very convincingly.’
‘What are you trying to suggest?’ Bobbie demanded, hoping that he couldn’t tell just how nervous and guilty he was making her feel.
‘Nothing,’ he replied, but before she could draw a shaky breath of relief, he added warningly, ‘as yet. Let’s just say that I’m holding a watching brief.’
‘It’s Fenella you should be watching and not me,’ Bobbie advised as she quickly stepped away from him and darted into the lift. She reached out to press the button and then tensed as he followed her and placed his hand against the door, preventing it from closing.
‘I rather suspect that in comparison to you, any element of danger that Fenella might represent would be minimal indeed,’ he parried.
‘That’s your expert opinion as a barrister, is it?’ Bobbie quipped flippantly.
‘No, that’s my gut instinct as a man,’ he told her cynically.
She removed his hand from the door and it slid shut before Bobbie could come up with any suitable reply.
Once she had gained the relative sanctuary of her room and double bolted the door, Bobbie picked up the telephone receiver and punched in her parents’ New England home number, keeping her fingers crossed that it would be her sister who answered her call and not her mother.
Fortunately it was. ‘Sam...?’
‘Yes, it’s me,’ her twin affirmed unnecessarily, adding, ‘You sound a mite out of breath. Anything wrong?’
‘Nooo...’ Bobbie denied unconvincingly, then asked anxiously, ‘How are things back there?’
Their mother had been advised by her gynaecologist to have a hysterectomy some time ago, and whether as a result of this or because of her having hit fifty, in the months since the operation she had suffered from uncharacteristic bouts of a troubling depression.
She was over the worst now and they were not to worry, nor were they to pamper her or indulge her foolishness, she had insisted to both her daughters and her husband, but all three of them were very much aware of the shadowed sadness in her eyes and the unfamiliar droop of her mouth when she thought that no one was watching her.
‘So so,’ Samantha replied guardedly. ‘The folks are still down in Washington but they’re due back tomorrow. I spoke to Dad last night and he said they’d both be glad to get home. I guess he’s thinking that he may not run for office next time around. He thinks it might be too stressful for Mom.’
‘Oh, Sam,’ Bobbie protested.
‘I know,’ her elder twin sympathised, asking her, ‘How are you getting on?’
‘I...I’m not sure,’ Bobbie told her hesitantly. ‘You remember I told you about the party I was invited to? Well, one of the other guests, a member of the family, invited me out to lunch today to ask me if I’d like a temporary job with them, looking after their baby, but—’
She stopped speaking as her sister interrupted her excitedly, saying, ‘Wow, that’s wonderful, just the kind of break we needed. You’ll be able to—’
‘Sam. I’m not so sure that I ... I like Olivia,’ she tried to explain hesitantly to her sister, who had suddenly gone ominously quiet, wishing as she had wished so often over these past few days that Samantha were here with her. ‘She’s so genuine ... so kind, and I feel—’
‘You like her?’ Samantha questioned fiercely. ‘Bobbie—Roberta—have you forgotten who she is ... who they are,’ she demanded insistently, ‘what they did?’
‘No...of course I haven’t. It’s just...I hate to be deceitful like this, Sam, and—’
‘This is no time to go all soft-hearted,’ Samantha told her sister assertively. ‘Look, I’ve got to go. Ring me tomorrow.’
After she had replaced the receiver, Samantha stood staring out of the window of her parents’ handsome drawing room at the empty drive outside. The creeperclad, solidly built New England mansion was one of the finest examples of late eighteenth-century buildings in the area. It had originally been built by one of their father’s ancestors and in due course would pass on into the ownership of their brother Tom, now presently at Harvard, but it was not the thought of her younger brother ultimately inheriting the house in which both she and Bobbie had grown up that was causing a deep frown to crease her forehead.
‘I knew I should have gone to England,’ she muttered under her breath. ‘Bobbie never did have much of a stomach for fighting dirty.’
It was she who had masterminded the plan they were now putting into action, she who had been the driving force behind it, and unlike Bobbie, she who knew she would never have fallen into the trap of ‘liking’ those cussed and accursed Crightons, as the twins had grown into the habit of calling them when they had inadvertently stumbled on the secret that their mother had found so shameful that she hadn’t wanted them to know about.
It had been their grandfather in the end who had answered their questions. And even now, although they were adult and had known the story for many years, their mother still did not like to talk about it or hear it mentioned because it still hurt her so much, all the more so, Samantha suspected, because of their father’s very distinguished and strait-laced Puritan ancestry.
Not that knowing the truth made their father love their mother any the less, nor did they, but it still hurt to see her vulnerable.
‘It’s not fair. Why should Mom be the only one to suffer?’ Samantha had demanded of Bobbie. ‘It wasn’t her fault. We should make them pay.’
‘But how can we?’ Bobbie had asked her.
‘I’ll think of a way,’ Samantha had promised.
And so she had ... or rather she had thought she had until Bobbie started to turn chicken-hearted.
If only she wasn’t committed to her college classes and her vow to make up for the time she had taken off to travel. Still, there was no point in regretting that now; she would just have to make sure that Bobbie didn’t weaken still further.
In Chester, Bobbie paced her bedroom unhappily. She just didn’t possess Sam’s fiercely stubborn determination and adherence to any cause she took on; she lacked her sister’s strength, she knew that. It wasn’t that she cared any the less about their mother. It was just...
Face it, she told herself sternly, you’re a coward. You just can’t abide any kind of fighting or confrontation. You’re a real scaredy-cat, she taunted herself.
But what was she so afraid of? Seeing the friendship and warmth in Olivia’s and Joss’s eyes turn to dislike and contempt when they discovered how devious and underhand she had been, or seeing the triumph in Luke’s when all his suspicions of her were confirmed?
CHAPTER FIVE
WHEN Olivia rang later in the day as she had promised she would, Bobbie took a deep breath and made a fervent mental plea that she was making the right decision as she confirmed that she wanted to accept her offer of a job.
‘You’ll do it! Oh, that’s wonderful!’ Olivia enthused, adding, ‘I was so afraid that you were going to say no.’
Bobbie bit her lip as she prayed that Olivia would never have cause to wish that she had refused whilst she listened to her explain the finer details of their arrangement.
‘Oh, and don’t worry about transport,’ she told Bobbie. ‘We’ll provide you with a car. You’ll certainly need one because we are rather isolated, I’m afraid.’
Well, at least that solved the problem of how she was going to explain away being able to afford the cost of a hire-car, Bobbie acknowledged as Olivia went on to detail the generous amount of time off she would be given plus the use of the car for her personal needs.
It was agreed that Olivia would pick her up at the hotel in the morning, but despite the other woman’s enthusiasm, Bobbie was not surprised to discover that her hand was shaking and her stomach churning with nauseous apprehension when she finally replaced the receiver.
Still, at least there was a positive advantage to leaving Chester—she would not be likely to see Luke Crighton again.
‘I’ve told Joss that you might be coming to work for us,’ Olivia had informed her. ‘He’s thrilled to bits!’
Bobbie spent the rest of the evening packing her things and trying to ignore the sad little voice of her conscience.
After all, how could she have faced her twin sister if she had refused such a golden opportunity? And, given the choice, she would much rather confront and deal with her own conscience than Sam’s ire!
‘Here we are, home safe and sound,’ Olivia announced with a smile as she drove in between the gateposts towards the pretty low-roofed brick building that was her home and that, as she had already explained to Bobbie, had originally been a small block of three farm workers’ cottages.
‘They came up for auction along with a couple of paddocks just before we got married. It was Luke who tipped us off about them. He knew it was exactly the kind of place we were looking for—something large enough in which to bring up a family and with a good bit of land, but nothing too grand or expensive.
‘For the first six months we owned it, the place was completely uninhabitable, and we were still virtually knee-deep in builders and decorators and the like when Amelia was born.’
‘It looks wonderful,’ Bobbie enthused as she gazed appreciatively at the neatly painted windows and the mellow warmth of the old bricks.
‘Come on,’ Olivia instructed her as she stopped the car. ‘Let’s go in. Caspar is dying for you to arrive.’
‘I hope I’m not going to let you down.’ Bobbie hesitated. ‘I ... I really don’t know that much about babies or small children.’
‘Neither did I until I had Amelia,’ Olivia confessed cheerfully. ‘She liked you,’ she added warmly. ‘I could see that, and quite frankly that’s much more important to me than a long string of qualifications. Mmm...I’m surprised that Caspar hasn’t come out to welcome you.’
Uncertainly, Bobbie followed Olivia as she led her, not to the prettily painted front door of the now-amalgamated cottages but around the side of the house and through a gate into a walled courtyard area and towards what Bobbie guessed must be the back door.
As Bobbie followed her through it into the kitchen, she heard Olivia exclaim, ‘Ruth! I didn’t realise you were here!’ Bobbie followed Olivia’s gaze and saw an elegantly dressed, serenely attractive woman whose still dark, well-styled hair made her look nothing like the age that Bobbie knew her to be.
If Ruth’s clothes and supple, slender body looked elegant, the pose she had adopted on the floor where she was obviously playing with Olivia’s baby daughter most certainly was not. Her carelessly sprawled body and the warm, rich uninhibited sound of her laughter surely belonged more to a girl in her late teens or early twenties rather than a woman of such maturity, Bobbie decided, her own body stiffening slightly in a mixture of wariness and covert disdain as Ruth scrambled to her feet, still laughing as she explained, ‘Caspar had to go out—an urgent meeting. He phoned and asked me if I could come over.’
‘Oh, Ruth, we impose on you far too much,’ Olivia apologised as she hugged her great-aunt warmly, ‘but not, I promise you, any more. This is Bobbie. She’s going to be looking after Amelia for us for a few weeks to give us time to find a more permanent nanny.’
If Ruth Crighton’s demeanour and body language seemed surprisingly youthful, then the look of extraordinary wisdom and kindness in her eyes told a very different story, Bobbie acknowledged, shaken by the unexpectedness of the emotions that overwhelmed her as Ruth held out her hand towards her. Her first instinct was to step back from her to avoid any kind of physical contact with her. But her mother had had an old-fashioned attitude towards teaching her children good manners and Bobbie found that she was automatically extending her own hand.
Ruth’s clasp was firm but feminine, the bones in her hand fine and delicate. Bobbie had to look away and blink frantically in case the sudden rush of tears to her eyes betrayed her. The feel of that elegantly shaped, long-fingered hand with its smooth, delicate, English-rose skin was almost unbearably familiar.
‘I’ve been looking forward to meeting you,’ she heard Ruth telling her warmly before adding, ‘Joss drew a most intriguing verbal picture of you.’
‘I suppose he told you that I was a giant.’ Bobbie smiled back, taking refuge from her own chaotic emotions in making a joke about her height.
‘Actually, no, he didn’t,’ Ruth denied. ‘He told me that you liked reading tombstones and that you were just the right height for Luke.’
To her own dismay, Bobbie realised that she was actually blushing.
‘He also said that you were American and that he liked you,’ Ruth added with another smile, tactfully ignoring Bobbie’s embarrassment.
American and he liked her or American but he liked her? Bobbie wondered as her self-consciousness subsided and she was unable to stop herself from asking dryly, ‘I see. Does that mean that normally the two aren’t found to be compatible?’
Ruth’s eyebrows rose, her fine eyes rather thoughtful as she studied Bobbie’s face. There was no doubt that the American was a vibrantly beautiful young woman. Ruth could see intelligence as well as pride in her expression, but even more intriguingly she could also see an unexpected hint of uncertainty and defensiveness.
‘Oh dear,’ Olivia broke in ruefully. ‘I suspect that must mean that Joss has been telling you tales about how certain members of the Crighton clan have in the past been chauvinistically anti-American. I can remember how shocked I was when Caspar told me that he’d heard about it, but that’s all in the past now, Bobbie,’ she said reassuringly. ‘If it ever really existed.’
‘There was a certain amount of local resentment and male jealousy of the American forces stationed here during the Second World War,’ Ruth supplied quietly, ‘but that was all a long time ago and I believe what ill feeling there may have been has been exaggerated into a bit of a shaggy-dog story.’
