An Affair to Forget (2 page)

“
Drink up,” he urged. “I’m not going to empty this bottle on my own.”

“
One’s enough when I’m driving.”

“
You’re not driving, not in this weather and at this time of night. I switched on the gas fire in the spare room while I was upstairs.”

“
Oh,” she said, startled. “But I can’t possibly–”

“
Yes you can. Your little car would be blown off the road in this storm, or you’d be hit by a falling tree. You were already planning to stay overnight anyway, weren’t you?” Then he looked up at her from where he sprawled on the floor, and grinned. “Things are different now that I’m here, is that it? Tell you what, Morrin – I won’t molest you if you promise not to molest me.”

Her
face burned. “I didn’t – I wasn’t –”

“
Don’t panic.” He poured more wine into both glasses. “It’s against my principles to force myself on you of all people. I can’t afford to lose a good secretary. Mind you” – he pushed his empty place aside and stretched his long legs across the rug – “most women would feel offended if I didn’t make some attempt to seduce them. What makes you so different?”

“
I’ll make coffee,” Morrin said hurriedly and leaned forward to pick up the plates. His hand closed on hers.

“
Running away again. When are you going to grow up, Morrin?”

“
I am grown up!”

“
What age are you now? Eighteen, going on forty-two?” he teased, and laughed when she pulled her hand free and scurried to the kitchen.

From
their first meeting he had been intrigued by her age. To Gareth, any female below twenty-two years was a mere child. He couldn’t get over the fact that at eighteen years of age Morrin was a trained and efficient secretary. All the women in his life were either comfortably off or made a great deal of money through their looks, as models. Camilla – who was dominating Morrin’s thoughts in a very irritating way that night – was the spoiled daughter of a wealthy man.

As
she made coffee Morrin wondered who was going to take Camilla’s place. She had grown to hate the first weeks of each new affair; the intimate phone calls, the preoccupation that meant that his mind was elsewhere. Now she was going to have to go through it again.

He
was pouring brandy into balloon glasses when she went back into the sitting-room. “I thought we’d do things in style. After all, this is our first dinner together,” he said casually, then, nodding at the sturdy coffee mugs in her hands, “This is the first restaurant that’s known how to serve coffee properly. I hate those tiny cups they usually hand out.”

As
he leaned forward to poke the fire into a blaze the leaping flames danced in the depths of his eyes, emphasising his high cheekbones and strong humorous mouth. His face was a little too broad, his nose a little too long for the faultless good looks of a film star. But those compelling eyes, the thick black hair and expressive features made him incredibly attractive.

Then
he moved back from the fire and his face was hidden from her as he settled down, his back against her chair. At first she was keenly aware that his shoulder was warm and solid against her leg, then as he began to talk about the meeting he had attended she found herself relaxing, answering him easily, laughing with him. The firelight, the cosiness of the candlelit room, the sharp, pleasant tang of the brandy on her tongue, the security of knowing that she was no longer alone – all these things combined to overcome her initial awkwardness.

Up
until tonight she had taken care to keep their relationship on strictly formal lines. From the first, his casual teasing attitude towards her had invited her to treat him as a friend, or even an older brother, rather than an employer, but she had denied herself that pleasure. An only child raised by shy parents, she had never found it easy to make friends of either sex, but with Gareth it was even more difficult. Almost from the beginning she had found him disturbing: at first she thought that there was something unlikeable about him, although she could not identify it. She was totally in love with him before she realised what was happening to her.

Therein
lay the danger – she could not allow herself to love him. She must remain as an impersonal part of his life. He would be appalled if he sensed the truth. Worse, he would be amused and then irritated, and she couldn’t bear that.

It
had not been easy to maintain her cool aloof manner but she had worked hard at it, needing it for protection. But now, with firelight and candlelight lapping them in a charmed circle of gold and Gareth’s shoulder warm against her leg, she let her guard slip, talking about her parents, her home in the south-west, her college days.

“
And what about the man in your life?” he asked lazily as she leaned forward to put her empty mug on the coffee table.

“
There isn’t one.”

“
Come on – there must be someone, somewhere.” He twisted to face her, his green eyes, points of light dancing deep within them, travelling over her face. “Don’t tell me” – his voice dropped to a teasing murmur – “that you’ve reached the grand old age of eighteen and never been kissed?”

“
That is none of –”

“ –
my business,” he finished for her, reaching for her hand and trapping it in his before she had time to draw it away. Turning it over in his he opened her curled fingers gently, one by one. A shiver ran through Morrin’s body at his touch.

“
Gareth – ” She meant to speak sharply, to snatch her hand away, but her voice was a whisper.

“
What?” His free hand stretched up to touch the long hair shadowing her down-turned face, fingers curling about a thick strand then tightening and tugging gently.

For
a split second the alarm bells sounded in her head, then the clamour receded, dulled by Gareth’s touch. It seemed natural to let herself slip from the chair into his arms and to feel, at last, his lips on hers.

Two

Gareth’s kiss was gentle and yet it flamed through Morrin with an intensity that made her body quiver. She had wondered, from their first meeting, what it would be like to be held in his arms. Now she knew, and she didn’t ever want the magic moment to stop.

When
his mouth left hers her eyes fluttered open and she parted her lips in a soft sigh.

“
Funny,” he said, “I could have sworn that by this time you would have tried to slap my face. You’re entitled to one slap.” She reached up to touch his face. “Well,” he murmured, “you’ve had your chance,” and bent to claim her lips again, before travelling with tantalising slowness down her throat to rest on the soft skin at the neck of her blue sweater. As she arched her head back to expose her throat to his kisses part of Morrin’s mind, the practical part, was shocked by her behaviour, but it was only a token protest, quickly smothered, as his mouth warmed her breasts through the thin woollen sweater and she buried her face in his hair, inhaling its outdoor fragrance, by the pleasure of being with him at last.

Freeing
one arm, Gareth pulled a cushion from the chair where she had been sitting and tossed it to the rug before easing her down to lie with her head pillowed. As he leaned over her firelight danced over the planes and angles of his face. She reached up to touch him, but he took her hands in one of his, kissing the fingertips. Morrin sighed again, closing her eyes, smiling as she felt one finger gently tracing the outline of her face, stroking a curl back from her forehead. He touched the upturned corners of her mouth and said, “Why have you kept it a secret for so long?”

“
Kept what a secret?”

“
All this passion. I like it,” he murmured, then suddenly the room beyond his head flared into harsh, revealing light.

Morrin
’s hands flew instinctively to cover her eyes, then she took them away as she heard Gareth say, “And then there was light… just at the wrong time, too. Well, we can fix that.”

“
No…” She sat up as he scrambled to his feet. Shame swept over her as she looked round the bright room, seeing the empty dishes and glasses on the table, the cushion on the floor, her own dishevelled appearance. “Leave it on!”

Her
hair was a mess, her skirt tangled round her thighs, her sweater rumpled up. She got up, frantically trying to tidy herself. “We mustn’t – I mean, I’m sorry… I should never have…”

Her
voice was panicky, and so were her movements as she smoothed her hair with shaking hands and replaced the cushion on the chair, averting her face from him.

“
What’s all the panic about?” His voice took on an edge. “We’re adults, both free to follow our inclinations. And I must say, I like your inclinations. So what’s wrong? Relax, Morrin, enjoy life.”

“
It was a… a mistake, that’s all. We shouldn’t have – ” She was babbling like an idiot but she couldn’t stop her tongue from running on. She scurried about the room, blowing out the candles and gathering the dishes together. “Where’s the tray?”

“
It’s a bit late to say that we shouldn’t have.” Gareth came back to her, catching her by the shoulders and turning her about to face him. “Because we did, didn’t we? And I for one enjoyed it.”

Unable
to meet his gaze she concentrated instead on staring at his chin. But that meant that she could also see the warm, passionate mouth that had so easily aroused her answering desire. Far too easily. She closed her eyes.

“
Don’t tell me you weren’t having a good time as well. I had no idea that a quiet little scrap of a thing like you could be so…”

“
Stop it!” She tried to twist away, but he refused to break his grip.

“
Morrin, let your hair down… let yourself go for once. What just happened between us was – ” He broke off, then said, “It was good. It takes two to start a fire like – ”

The
phone’s sudden ringing made her jump. Gareth frowned, his fingers tightening on her shoulders. “Leave it.”

But
the phone had saved her, just when she was in danger of slipping once more under his spell. She squirmed out from under his grasp and picked up the receiver, silently uttering a prayer of thanksgiving to whoever was calling. She had to take a deep breath before she could trust her voice to recite the phone number steadily.

“
Is Gareth there?” It was a woman’s voice; low and husky, not a voice that Morrin knew.

“
Yes, he’s here.” He had walked over to stare down into the fire, and now he turned sharply, frowning at her and shaking his head to indicate that he didn’t want to speak to any callers. Morrin held the receiver out. “For you.” She pitched her voice so that the woman on the line could hear it.

Gareth
glared, then shrugged his shoulders in resignation as he took the receiver from her. After the first, abrupt, “Sinclair here,” his voice changed, took on the relaxed, intimate note she had often heard him use to his women callers. “Oh… hi, Cass. No, no problem at all, I just got in, so it’s lucky you didn’t call earlier…”

So
Camilla was to be replaced by Cass, whoever she was, Morrin thought as she loaded the tray and carried it into the kitchen. Returning for another load she caught snatches of his conversation as she stacked the tray and put the cushion back on the chair, where it belonged.

“
When? How bad is it this time? Well, as it so happens I’m fairly free this week,” he drawled. “The last chapter of the book’s being typed for the publisher, so I should manage tomorrow.”

As
she carried the tray from the room for a second time he moved to lean one shoulder on the wall as though settling down for a long conversation. “You’ll be there too? Yes, it’ll be good to spend some time together,” he agreed smoothly, and Morrin, brushing past, was aware of his green gaze on her, though she didn’t look at him.

In
the kitchen she filled the sink with hot soapy water and washed the dishes. After stacking them on the draining board she realised that she was trembling so much that she had to sit down. What on earth had possessed her earlier? Could it have been the brandy and the single glass of wine with her meal? She was shocked by the passion that Gareth had so easily awakened in her. She had never imagined that any man could affect her so strongly. Until that night her feelings for him had been carefully wrapped in tender, romantic dreams that now seemed bland and immature compared to the intensity of the desire she had known when lying in his arms.

She
shivered convulsively at the memory, pushing it away. After what had happened she couldn’t possibly spend the night in this house, with nobody else there but Gareth. She got up and hurried into the hall. The sitting-room door was shut but she could hear the murmur of his voice and catch the sound of his laughter. Snatching her coat from the cloakroom she ran into the study to retrieve her bag from where it hung by her desk.

She
was hurrying on tiptoe across the wide hall like a criminal fleeing from justice when Gareth asked from the door of the sitting-room, “Where d’you think you’re going?”

Morrin
spun round with a gasp of fright to see him leaning against the door jamb, arms folded.

“
I’m… I have to go home.”

“
In this storm?”

“
It’s calming down n – ” she started to say just as a particularly vicious gust of wind slammed against the front of the house.

“
Not from where I’m standing. And I told you… your little car could easily be blown off the road or hit by a falling tree.”

“
I’ll take that chance.” She reached for the door handle, found that the door was locked, and fumbled at the key.

“
But I won’t.” Gareth crossed the hall and put his hand over hers. His touch sent a ripple through her. “The roads are dark and treacherous, and you’ve been drinking. I’m not going to let you drive home tonight, and that’s final. And I’m not going to offer to drive you,” he went on as she opened her mouth to speak. “I value my safety even if you don’t value yours.”

“
A taxi…”

“
Still dangerous, even if there’s a driver willing to come all the way out here on a night like this, which I doubt.” A trace of amusement gleamed in his eyes and the corner of his mouth twitched. “I’ve never had this effect on a woman before. Nobody’s ever preferred being trapped beneath a falling tree to spending a night with me.”

“
I have no intention of spending the night with you,” she flared at him, panic welling up again.

“
I don’t think you’ve got much choice,” he told her silkily, then the grin that had been struggling to the surface managed to break through. “OK, perhaps I put that crudely. I meant a night under my roof, not necessarily in my bed. Although for a while there I really thought that we – ”

“
I don’t suppose I’ve got any option… about staying, I mean,” she interrupted, and turned away.

He
helped her to take her coat off, his hands lingering briefly on her shoulders. “You haven’t, but don’t worry, I won’t tell a soul. Your secret will be safe with me. Shall we go back to the sitting-room and have some more brandy?”

“
I’d rather just go to b– to my room, if you don’t mind. I’m tired.” She couldn’t go back into that room with him, not with the memory of his kisses tingling wherever they had touched.

“
Please yourself. I left a pair of my pyjamas in the room at the back when I was getting changed. They’ll be too big for you, but they’re better than nothing. Unless, that is, you’re one of those women who prefer not to wear anything in bed?”

“
Thank you, the pyjamas will be fine.” Morrin said, and fled to the stairs.

“
By the way…” He came to lean on the newel post, her coat still folded in his arms. “That phone call… it seems that my grandmother isn’t too well, so I’ll have to go to Wales tomorrow to see her.”

“
Your grandmother has a very attractive voice.” The words were out before Morrin could stop them. Gareth’s eyes blazed with sudden astonishment, then he recovered himself and grinned.

“
This is a night of surprises. I’ve never known you sound bitchy before, my love. That was her god-daughter on the phone.”

“
I see.”

“
No you don’t,” he challenged her. “Why don’t you come with me tomorrow and meet the old lady?”

“
I can’t. There’s your book to finish and post off.”

“
We wouldn’t be away for very long. It won’t matter if the manuscript’s a few days late.” He frowned when she shook her head. “Now what’s bothering you?”

She
hesitated. How could she tell him that after that scene on the rug before the fire she needed a few days away from him in order to get her sense of proportion back? How could she explain that being with him during the journey to Wales and then in his grandmother’s house was more than she could handle?

“
Oh forget it, it doesn’t matter,” Gareth said before she could think up a sensible explanation. “It was a stupid idea anyway.” He swung away from her and headed towards the kitchen door. “I’ll let the dogs out before they settle down for the night.” He tossed the words over his shoulder.

In
the spare room the gas fire glowed cosily and a pair of light blue pyjamas trimmed with navy had been tossed on to the bed. There was even a toothbrush still in its wrapping, and a small tube of toothpaste, as well as towels and soap. She washed hurriedly in the nearby bathroom, keeping one ear open all the time for his footsteps on the stairs or in the hall outside, then scurried back to her room and undressed. The pyjamas were, of course, far too large for her. She had to roll up the trouser legs and the arms of the jacket before she could move.

Situated
as it was at the back of the house, the room had a view – in daylight – over the large garden. As the storm was attacking from the front this room was quieter than the larger spare room, at the front of the house and next to Gareth’s bedroom.

Morrin
took a hairbrush from her bag, sat down before the dressing-table mirror, and began to brush her hair with long steady strokes. It crackled beneath her fingers, and she worked on it long after it was smooth and shining, lost in her own thoughts, soothed by the rhythmic motion of the brush.

When
Gareth said from the doorway, “I was just wondering…” she whirled round with a yelp of fright, the brush falling from her fingers.

“
I did knock but obviously you didn’t hear me. I wondered if by any chance you had decided to sneak out and get yourself killed while I was attending to the dogs.”

“
I didn’t… as you can see.”

“
Mmm.” He studied her thoughtfully. Nerve ends tingled all over her body and she was aware of a blush working its way up to her throat and face. “Those pyjamas suit you more than they suit me,” he said at last. “I’m making some cocoa. I’ll bring a mug up for you if you like.”