Irresistible Temptation (5 page)

Claudia directed a sceptical glance over her shoulder at the darkness beyond the window. 'Then you must have X-ray vision,' she commented lightly. 'Do you want to go and check?'

'Of course not' The frown faded, and the smile he sent her was charming and repentant 'I'm probably wrong, and anyway, it's really—not important' He paused, then added with cold emphasis, 'Not important at all.'

And wondered why he'd needed to say that.

A good night's sleep was all she needed to cheer her up and put her right. That was what Olivia had told herself. But sleep was proving elusive.

The sofa-bed was comfortable enough, but quite apart from the non-stop traffic noise—did no one else ever go to bed?—there was no air in her room. Although she'd opened the window at the top, the atmosphere still felt heavier than the quilt she'd kicked off. The curtains hung unmoving.

The dial on her alarm clock told her it was nearly three in the morning, and so far she hadn't closed her eyes.

I'm just on edge about seeing Jeremy again, she thought. And it's a strange bed, strange room, strange city. What else can I expect but insomnia?

She got up and padded down the narrow passage into the kitchen. She poured milk into a saucepan, and set it on the hob, then opened the tin of drinking chocolate she'd included in her groceries.

Of course, if everything had gone according to plan she wouldn't have been doing much sleeping anyway, she acknowledged, her face warming slightly.

She supposed Jeremy would have taken her to a hotel. Because they certainly wouldn't have been allowed to be together at Lancey Gardens, as Declan Malone had made more than clear.

King of the double standard, she thought stormily, slamming the inoffensive tin of chocolate back in the cupboard. No prizes for guessing how he was spending the night.

Glumly, she poured the hot milk into a beaker, and stirred in the chocolate powder.

One of the things she'd been trying to figure as she stared into the darkness was possible damage limitation, but so far she hadn't come up with a thing.

From Sasha's remarks, it was clear that Declan Malone sincerely cared about Maria, and had little idea that her marriage was in such serious trouble.

Not until I showed up anyway, she thought, pulling a face. Although, if they are so close, it seems odd that she hasn't confided in him.

She sat at the small, round living room table, her hands cupped round the beaker, her mind going wearily over the same ground, and finding naught for her comfort.

She could only hope that Jeremy would see she'd acted in their best interests, and not mind that she'd jumped the gun.

And if Declan threw him out it would give him an incentive to find a place where they could be together, she encouraged herself. Maybe her intervention would be the catalyst that changed things at last.

If only he could be persuaded to look at it that way.

She'd half expected to be awake all night, but almost immediately after she got back into bed she found her thoughts swirling drowsily into emptiness.

Only to discover that she was standing in front of a giant pane of glass, and she could see Jeremy on the other side. She tapped on the glass, and called to him, but he didn't seem to see or hear her, and she knew she had to get to him—to make him listen. She started banging on the glass with both fists until it suddenly disintegrated, parting in front of her, then flowing round her like thick mist.

She began searching through the mist for Jeremy, hands outstretched, crying out his name, and at last felt her wrists taken. Gripped tightly.

But when she looked up, peering through the stifling grey miasma, she saw that the man who held her was not Jeremy, but Declan Malone, his eyes glittering like ice.

'Oh, God.' Olivia sat bolt-upright, her heart hammering. For a moment she was totally disorientated, then she saw the sun pouring through a gap in the green curtains and realised she'd been dreaming.

A glance at her alarm clock confirmed that she'd slept late too.

Her head felt heavy and her eyes were full of sand, so that it would have been very easy to lie back and sleep again. Fatally easy.

'Just asking for more nightmares,' she muttered, pushing back the quilt and swinging her feet to the floor. 'And who needs them?

She set coffee to brew, and poured orange juice into a glass, then went to shower and dress.

By the time she'd drunk her coffee, and eaten two slices of toast and marmalade, she was beginning to feel marginally human again.

She washed her few dishes, then tidied the bed into a sofa again, tucking the bedding away inside as Sasha had shown her.

And now, she thought, I have the rest of the day in front of me. What shall I do with it?

Not that she could do very much, she reminded herself. She needed to stay round the flat so that Jeremy could contact her there. But she could at least walk to the Gate and get the Sunday papers. Fill the time that way, because, a small, sober voice in her head suggested, she could be in for a long wait.

If she'd thought the streets would be quieter on Sunday, she soon discovered her mistake. But there was a different, more relaxed atmosphere.

Olivia found a seat at a pavement table outside a caf
é
, and ordered herself a cappuccino while she settled down for a leisurely bout of people-watching.

It was something she normally enjoyed, but somehow, today, it only seemed to deepen her sense of isolation. There were too many couples, strolling hand in hand in the sunshine, smiling into each other's eyes.

Eventually, she left her coffee unfinished, and walked quietly back to her basement.

I won't always feel like this, she promised herself. I won't always feel an outsider. One day—soon—I'll be walking with Jeremy, and someone will be watching me— envying me. One day…

She tried to visualise it. Fix the image in her mind like a lodestar. But instead, incomprehensibly, she found herself remembering the restaurant last night, and Declan Malone smiling at his companion. And herself outside. Looking in.

For a moment she felt totally frozen, all the muscles in her throat tightening suddenly, as if she was going to cry.

Then her hands clenched fiercely into fists at her side.

Oh, for heaven's sake, she thought in self-derision. Pull yourself together.

She made herself an omelette for lunch, and afterwards, when she'd cleared away, she put some music on, and stretched out on the sofa with the crossword.

She'd barely started when there was a knock at the door, and Sasha called, 'Olivia, may I come in, darling?'

Today, the caftan was emerald-green, and she was carrying Humph tucked under her arm.

'It all looks very nice.' She cast an appraising glance around her. 'Does it feel like home? Not yet, I dare say.'

She seated herself in a swirl on one of the dining chairs. Humph wriggled to get down, then trotted over to the sofa and jumped up beside Olivia, circling twice on his chosen cushion, then settling down with a sigh.

'Ah,' Sasha said with satisfaction. 'You've been given official approval. Isn't that nice?'

Olivia was bound to agree as she stroked the silky golden-brown fur, and found herself observed by a bright dark eye.

'But what I really came for, darling, is this.' Sasha laid a large iron key on the table. 'Now that you're a resident, you have the right to use the garden. This unlocks the main gate.'

'Really?' Olivia's sore heart lifted slightly as she remembered the magical green wilderness she'd spied from Declan's window. 'That's—wonderful.'

'And these are the communal rules.' Sasha put a typewritten sheet beside the key. 'Just look them through when you have a moment Now I must dash. I have to take Humph for his constitutional before my bridge party, and I'm running late as usual.'

'Couldn't I take him for you later?' Olivia suggested. 'After all, it seems a pity to disturb him when he's so comfortable.'

'I can't ask you to do that,' Sasha objected. 'It's such an imposition…'

'No,' Olivia said firmly. 'I'd enjoy it.' She hesitated. 'I haven't a great deal else to do.'

Sasha gave her a swift, shrewd glance, then nodded briskly. 'Very well, darling. Here's his lead — and also a key to my flat. Just pop him into the kitchen when you bring him back, and then drop the key through the letterbox.'

'Are you sure about this?' Olivia accepted the key, brows raised. 'After all, you hardly know me.'

'Call it instinct Humph trusts you.' Sasha smiled suddenly, almost mistily. 'And my beloved would have liked you too. Have fun.' And in a whirl of emerald she was gone.

As Olivia returned to her crossword she found herself wondering who Sasha's beloved had been.

She'd finished her puzzle by the time Humph decided he was ready for his walk. He pranced ahead of her up the steps and along the road to a pair of wrought-iron gates, which Olivia used her key to open, then locked behind her.

As soon as she stepped inside, the peace of the place seemed to wrap itself around her. Even the incessant traffic noise faded to a distance.

She began to walk along the gravelled path, glancing shyly around her, half expecting to be challenged.

The fine weather had brought the residents out in force she noticed. They spilled out of their houses and flats on to their rear steps, or the nearby grass, chatting together, playing with their children, drinking wine, picnicking, or attending to the plants in the vast ornamental urns which stood at the back of almost every property. All of them were too occupied to pay her anything but passing attention, although some of them seemed to recognise Humph and gave her a half-smile.

Presently, Humph turned off the main path, choosing a track through the towering shrubs which Olivia guessed was his preferred route.

It was rather like trying to unravel a maze, she thought as he trotted ahead of her, following some scent or other.

'I only hope you know the way back,' she told him.

Eventually she found herself in a massive lawned area with a large central pond. Humph, however, pulled her across it to where a gap in the surrounding shrubbery was marked by an ornamental arch, decorated with climbing roses.

A narrow path led to a small clearing—a patch of grass with a sundial at its centre, and one elderly wooden seat Very sheltered, and very peaceful, Olivia thought approvingly.

She walked across to the sundial, and read the inscription. '
Love makes Time pass. Time makes Love pass
.' Now there's a cynical viewpoint, she thought, wandering back to the seat and subsiding on to its aged timbers.

Humph was getting restive, so she bent down and slipped off his leash.

'Don't wander off,' she adjured him. And saw, as she straightened, a movement in the bushes. A cat.

She grabbed at Humph's collar. But in a crescendo of yapping he was off, his legs a blur, pursuing the fleeing cat through the shrubs with Olivia flying after the pair of them.

She hurled herself through the bushes, guided by another flurry of hysterical barking and an angry feline yowl, and arrived panting on the gravelled walk, just in time to see Humph's hindquarters disappearing up a flight of stone steps and in through some open French windows.