Julia James - Innocent Cinderella

‘That was then.’ Marin kept her voice steady. ‘This is now. So spare me any further reminders of last night’s events, please.’

‘Why should I do that?’ Jake threw back at her. ‘Or am I supposed to pretend it didn’t happen?’

‘Put it down to an error of judgement.’ She hesitated. ‘I shouldn’t drink when I’m not used to it.’

‘Oh no, darling,’ he said softly. ‘You can’t blame the demon alcohol for that particular turn of events, and you know that as well as I do. We may not have been very wise, but we were both sober.’ He paused. ‘So—what’s the real problem?’

‘No problem at all.’ She didn’t look at him. ‘I just have no wish to compound my mistake. And any further involvement with you, Mr Radley-Smith, would be a seriously bad idea.’

She swallowed. ‘Or did you think, having given me the ultimate good time in bed, I’d be begging you for more?’

How could she be saying these things? she asked herself with a kind of anguish. Was this the price she had to pay for self-preservation? To ensure that he would leave her strictly alone from now on?

‘That never crossed my mind,’ he said. ‘But I think I deserve some kind of explanation for this— volte face. ’

‘Of course,’ she said. ‘I’d almost forgotten. You’re the one who usually decides when it’s over and walks away. Well, this time it’s my prerogative.’

‘Is there someone else in your life?’ he asked abruptly. ‘Another man?’

‘That’s none of your business.’ Marin lifted her chin. ‘And you’re not in my life, Mr Radley-Smith. You just—passed through it.’ She took another deep breath. ‘And now maybe we could go back to London. Unless you’d prefer me to hitch a lift to the nearest station?’

‘That won’t be necessary.’ His voice was as grim as his face. He buckled his seat belt and switched on the engine. ‘Tell me one last thing, Marin. What actually became of the girl who slept in my arms last night?’

She shrugged. ‘She woke up. It’s that simple.’

‘Really?’ he asked ironically. ‘I’ll have to take your word for that. Because I find it incredibly complicated.’ And he turned the car back on to the road and drove off with a burst of acceleration that she recognised as pure anger.

He’d assumed that she’d be happy to fall in with any plan he put to her, she thought, her throat tightening. And he didn’t like to lose the initiative or be thwarted. It must have been a long time since he was the target of such positive resistance. Perhaps he wouldn’t take his next lady so much for granted, she told herself, and wanted to burst into tears.

It was a long and silent journey. Marin sat, her fingers clasped so tightly in her lap that they ached, allowing herself an occasional surreptitious peep at his bleak profile.

She’d done what she had to, she told herself, even if she felt as if the heart had been torn out of her body in the process.

When they reached the flat, Jake slotted the car into a parking place she’d have said was impossibly small. Always in control, she thought stonily.

As he lifted her bag from the boot, she held out her hand. ‘I’ll take that, please.’

He stared at her. ‘May I not even come in with you?’

‘No,’ she said. ‘Thank you.’

As she took the case from him, his fingers closed over hers.

‘Marin,’ he said. ‘Not like this. Please. I know it’s a cliché, but we really need to talk.’

‘There’s nothing left to say.’ She moved a defensive shoulder. ‘Your important client has been convinced that you’re not after his wife. And that’s what it was all about.’

‘Apart from the money, of course,’ he said.

‘Of course,’ Marin echoed. She turned away. ‘You can mail me the cheque.’

‘No,’ he said. ‘I prefer to deal with it now, even if we are in the street.’

He produced his cheque book, rested it on the roof of the car, wrote then tore out the slip and handed it to her.

She stared at the amount, then looked at him. ‘It’s not what we agreed,’ she said. ‘It’s too much. Another thousand pounds too much.’

‘Call it a bonus.’ He shrugged, his blue gaze flicking over her. His sudden smile was reminiscent. Insolent. ‘Let’s say for services above and beyond the call of duty.’ He paused. ‘And I’ll be in touch,’ he added softly, then got back in the car and drove off.

Marin wanted to tear the cheque into tiny pieces and fling them after him, but something warned her that if she did, and he saw, he would know that it mattered to her—that it mattered terribly.

And that was something that needed to remain her secret for ever.

There was a note from Lynne waiting for her. ‘At Mike’s. Hope all went well. See you later,’ it informed her succinctly.

No, it didn’t, Marin thought. And, no, you won’t.

She’d had time to think during those endless miles in the car, and to make a decision. She was due to travel down to Essex and the new assignment tomorrow, but there was nothing to stop her going that afternoon and spending the night in a bed and breakfast.

That way, she would not have to face her stepsister until she’d managed to regain some measure of control over her stormy emotions.

I can’t tell her what really happened, she thought. I can’t.

Jake’s parting remark had set her alarm bells ringing too.

But if he can’t find me he can’t be in touch, she reassured herself.

She put the new travel-bag in the wardrobe just as it was and found her usual case, packing it efficiently and deftly with working gear, reverting to the crisp, businesslike person she’d lost sight of in a fit of momentary madness.

Then she sat down and composed a letter to Lynne, keeping the tone deliberately upbeat as she explained she was off to start her new job early and would call on her mobile as soon as she was settled. She did not, however, include the address of the practice. What Lynne did not know, she could not inadvertently pass on.

I need these four weeks, she thought, as a breathing space to put myself together again. And when I come back I’ll find somewhere else to live. Most of the other girls at work share flats, and they often have spare rooms. So I’ll be all right. I’ll be fine.

And, above all, for the next month I’ll be too busy to think. And perhaps because of this, please God, I can start to forget him.

Didn’t someone say he was easier to recover from once you were out of bed? I can only pray that it’s true.

‘Rubbing shoulders with nature for the past month doesn’t seem to have done you much good,’ was Lynne’s first comment once she’d hugged her. ‘You’re looking pale, my pet.’

Marin shrugged. ‘They all took me out to the local Chinese restaurant last night,’ she returned. ‘I think the sweet and sour sauce seriously disagreed with me. But I’m fine again now.’

Except that she wasn’t, because Mike arrived that evening, fresh from playing in a charity cricket-match, and hefting a bulging carrier bag.

‘To welcome home the exile,’ he announced. ‘I’ve got all your favourites. Chow mein, Kung Po chicken, shrimps in special sauce, beef with water chestnuts and a paddy field of fried rice.’

This time, to Marin’s dismay, just the smell did it, and she fled.

‘If you’re no better in the morning,’ Lynne ordained sternly, handing her a glass of water, ‘You must see the doctor. You could need antibiotics.’

‘I’d settle for a stomach transplant,’ Marin said wanly. ‘I don’t think I’ll ever look a Chinese meal in the face again. Let’s hope it’s over.’

But she hoped in vain.

‘Right,’ Lynne said briskly, coming into the bedroom where she lay hunched and miserable under the covers. ‘I’ve phoned Wendy Ingram and explained why you won’t be in, and Dr Jarvis will see you at two-thirty.’ She paused. ‘Can I leave you anything? Hot coffee, maybe?’