Elizabeth Power - A Passionate Affair

‘You’ve never lived in a family environment so you might have an idealised view of siblings,’ Nicki said flatly. ‘Believe me, being a sister or a brother doesn’t automatically qualify you for instant sainthood. There’s all sorts of undercurrents in the human psyche, and siblings can bring out the worst in other siblings. When I got a 2.1 at uni, and my sister got a 2.2 two years later, she didn’t speak to me for six months.’

‘We’re talking marriage break-up here, Nicki. Not someone being miffed because of a grade in a degree.’

‘Oh, believe me, I could tell you worse stories. Not about my sister,’ Nicki added hurriedly, as latent loyalty kicked in, ‘but rivalry and jealousy can be at their most intense in families.’

‘He’s been like mother and father to her all her life,’ Marsha argued vehemently. ‘She worships the ground he walks on. Even her husband has to take second place to Taylor.’

‘Really?’ Nicki wrinkled her nose. ‘Unhealthy.’

‘And she was great to me from day one. She was even my maid of honour.’

‘Doesn’t mean a thing,’ Nicki stated evenly. ‘Now, I’m not saying she lied, Marsha, but it’s not impossible. Nothing is. At least consider the possibility.’

‘Why?’ said Marsha, and her brows came together in a perplexed frown at the other girl’s doggedness.

‘Because you still love him,’ Nicki said very quietly.

‘And being brought up as you were means there’s a whole chunk of experience missing, and that makes you vulnerable.’

‘Don’t say I’m insecure,’ Marsha warned fiercely.

‘The word will never pass my lips.’

The rest of the day passed in a whirl of trying to catch up on what she’d missed in the morning as she sat and fumed at Penelope’s cavalier treatment of her work. By seven o’clock everyone she normally worked with had gone, and the headache—which the wine had not improved at lunchtime and which she had kept at bay all afternoon with medication—was now a persistent drumming, sending hot flashes of pain into her brain.

When she emerged from the building into the warm June evening she winced as bright sunlight met her eyes, but a search of her handbag revealed she had left her sunglasses at home. Wonderful. The day had just got better and better and looked as if it was going to end on a high note, she thought darkly, the noise of the traffic seeming to roar through her aching head.

‘Do you always work this late?’

Her pulse gave a mighty leap and she caught her breath, turning her head to see Taylor standing a yard or so to her right. He was dressed in black jeans and a short-sleeved shirt the colour of his eyes, and he looked wonderful. He smiled at her surprise, his strong white teeth a contrast to his tanned skin.

She thought about her answer for a second or two, instead of coming out with her first response of, What are you doing here? And, considering the headache and the sort of day she’d had, she was rather pleased with the coolness of her voice when she said, ‘You should know, surely, with little Miss Private Detective keeping you up to date?’

‘Ow.’ The devastating smile turned into a grin in which there wasn’t a trace of remorse. ‘I should have expected that one.’

And he needn’t try his charm on her either! He was going to get a nice juicy contract, courtesy of a plainly besotted Penelope, and she was going to get a couple of weeks of frustration, trying to dig up more data when everyone knew all avenues had been exhausted and it wasn’t necessary anyway. A shaft of white-hot pain shot through her head and exploded out of her eyes, causing her to visibly wince.

‘What’s wrong?’ The grin had vanished and his voice was soft and deep as he took her arm, drawing her out of the way of other pedestrians and shielding her with his body as they stood at the side of the building.

‘Don’t.’ She shook off his hand, refusing the physical contact. ‘It’s just a headache, that’s all.’

He took in her white face and the blue shadows of exhaustion under her eyes. ‘How did the meeting go?’ he asked quietly.

‘Great.’ She stared straight at him. ‘Penelope accused me of slackness and implied I wasn’t up to the job in front of everyone when she knows full well the story’s a hot one. A none too subtle punishment for yesterday. Consequently the story’s on hold for a couple of weeks.’

‘That’s not the end of the world, is it?’

This from a man who had to have everything flowing like clockwork in his work, down to the last ‘i’ being dotted the second he demanded it. ‘Right now, yes, it is,’ she said flatly. ‘Not that I would expect you to understand for a minute. Your girlfriend is a nasty piece of work, and I resent being made to look a fool simply because I’m your wife—not that that will be the case for much longer.’

His expression altered as he absorbed her words. ‘One, Penelope is not my girlfriend. Two, I understand your frustration perfectly. Three, you need a bath, then a light supper, followed by some medication to knock you out, and a cool dark room to sleep the effects off. Agreed?’

It sounded wonderful, but she wasn’t about to tell him she didn’t have the luxury of a bath in her tiny shower room, or that her fridge boasted nothing more than a wilting lettuce and half a carton of cottage cheese which had probably passed its sell-by date. ‘Quite.’ She nodded carefully. She wasn’t too sure her head wouldn’t fall off with any vigorous movement. ‘So if you’ll excuse me I’ll be off home.’

‘You don’t intend to walk, feeling like you do?’

Not with Taylor in tow. ‘I’m going to get a taxi,’ she said tersely, his statement about Penelope a massive question mark in her mind. She needed to be somewhere quiet and think .

‘No need.’ He smiled sunnily. ‘My car’s parked over there. I can have you home in two jiffs.’

‘Taylor, how can I put this? I don’t want to ride in your car any more than I want to find you waiting for me when I come out of work.’ It wasn’t true, but he didn’t know that. She watched two young girls who couldn’t have been more than seventeen or eighteen do a doubletake as they caught sight of him, and hated him for it. Which made her fit for the funny farm, she thought wearily.

‘You’ve a blinding headache and need to get home quickly. I have a car parked ten yards away.’ He tilted his head expressively. ‘Seems pretty straightforward to me.’

Lots of things seemed straightforward to him, but it did not mean that they were. She wanted to argue, but she was too tired, too muzzy-headed, too heartsore. Suddenly it seemed a whole lot simpler just to allow him to take her home and be done with it. ‘Okay.’

‘Okay?’ He was surprised by the capitulation and it showed.

‘I can appreciate logic when it’s explained so well,’ she said with veiled sarcasm, deciding however bad she felt she wasn’t going to make it easy for him.

However, once she was in the safe confines of the car, and the rest of the busy, whirling, hellishly loud world was shut out, the temptation to shut her aching eyes was too strong to resist. The painkillers she had taken at regular intervals during the afternoon—probably too regular, she admitted silently—were telling on her. She felt leaden-limbed and exhausted, along with slightly nauseous and dizzy.

‘That’s right, shut your eyes.’ Taylor’s voice was no more than a soothing rumble at her side. ‘I’ll have you home in no time.’

She was not aware she had fallen asleep, but when she heard the murmur of voices and felt a gentle hand rousing her she looked up into Hannah’s anxious face and realised she must have been out for the count. She also realised—a touch belatedly—that the home Taylor had referred to had not been her bedsit.