A Passionate Affair Read online

  ‘You did expect me to come, didn’t you?’ he continued, studying the liquid in his glass. ‘You didn’t really think you could walk out on me this morning, without so much as a gesture of farewell?’

  ‘I—I thought it was the best thing to do,’ Cassandra replied quickly.

  ‘Best for whom?’ he countered, meeting her eyes.

  ‘Why, for both of us, I suppose.’ She linked her fingers together. ‘I’m afraid I’m not very experienced in these matters.’

  ‘And I am?’ The dark eyes snapped fire.

  Cassandra drew an unsteady breath. ‘Aren’t you?’

  Jay finished the sherry and put the glass down on the record cabinet. ‘Liz has done a pretty thorough job of character assassination, hasn’t she?’ he remarked, folding his arms. ‘But didn’t she also tell you that my—conquests generally last longer than one night?’

  Cassandra unlinked her fingers to run one hand uneasily into her hair. ‘Oh, look,’ she said uncomfortably, ‘is all this necessary? I mean, surely it’s obvious—–’

  ‘What is obvious?’

  ‘Well, my leaving you, of course. Surely you realised what it meant?’

  ‘No.’ His face was brooding. ‘What did it mean?’

  He was not making it easy for her, and Cassandra wished with all her heart that she had prepared herself better for this encounter. ‘Last night,’ she began carefully, choosing her words, ‘last night was a mistake—–’

  ‘It was?’

  ‘Yes. It should never have happened. I behaved—very badly. I—I don’t know what came over me.’

  ‘I came over you,’ Jay inserted harshly. ‘And it was no mistake. You wanted me, Cass, just as much as I wanted you.’

  ‘Well, perhaps—–’

  ‘Stuff it, Cass. There’s no perhaps about it. For years you’ve been nursing the belief that you were to blame for Roland’s hang-ups, but last night I showed you—–’

  ‘I’d really rather not talk about Mike—–’

  ‘Why? Am I scraping a nerve? Goddammit, Cass, that’s over now. Roland’s dead and you’re alive! Or you were last night!’

  Cassandra trembled. ‘If you want me to thank you—–’

  ‘To thank me!’ Jay uttered a savage oath. ‘For God’s sake, Cass, stop talking such utter rubbish! I didn’t come here for your thanks. That’s a bloody insult!’

  Cassandra held up her head. ‘Then why did you come? I can’t believe last night meant that much to you. You were still in bed at ten o’clock this morning!’

  ‘Oh, I see.’ Jay’s lips twisted. ‘Your mother-in-law has been talking. Did she think I wouldn’t recognise her voice if she rang off? You can tell her I’ve been a journalist too long to be duped that easily.’ He shook his head. ‘And that mattered to you, did it? That I was still occupying the confessional couch?’

  Cassandra was annoyed that she had betrayed herself so obviously, and she hastily tried to retract: ‘All I’m saying is that for someone who’s supposed to be so interested in why I walked out, you’ve taken an unconscionably long time to get here!’

  Jay inclined his head. ‘Point taken. And I’m willing to explain.’

  ‘I don’t need your explanations—–’

  ‘Nevertheless, you’re going to get them,’ he retorted flatly. ‘To begin with, I was not asleep when you made your furtive departure. You woke me up when you crept out of bed, but I let you believe otherwise because I wanted to see what you planned to do.’

  ‘You—you shouldn’t have done that.’

  ‘How so?’ He shrugged. ‘I didn’t want to spoil your fun. And besides, by the time I realised what you intended, it was too late to do anything about it.’

  Cassandra clenched her fists. ‘You watched me!’

  ‘With interest,’ he agreed shortly. ‘Then,’ he added, deliberately baiting her, ‘as I was tired, I went back to sleep.’

  Cassandra burned with embarrassment. ‘I—I don’t see that any of this is—is relevant.’

  ‘Don’t you? Well, let me continue.’ He exhaled heavily. ‘When next I wakened, it was after nine, and my temper hadn’t improved with keeping. On the contrary, if you’d been around, I think I’d have wrung your bloody neck, for making a fool of me!’

  ‘I—making a fool of you?’ Cassandra was taken aback, but Jay was not finished.

  ‘What else?’ he declared harshly. ‘We were supposed to be married, you know.’ He shook his head. ‘I was in no mood to be understanding, as your mother-in-law would have found out if she hadn’t let discretion act the better part of valour!’

  ‘Even so—–’

  ‘Even so—nothing.’ Jay’s mouth was hard. ‘I drove back to London, torn between the urge to beat your brains out and the equally strong desire to drown all thoughts of you in a malt-based anaesthetic!’

  ‘But you came here.’

  ‘Eventually,’ he agreed grimly. ‘Because it occurred to me that I might have misjudged you, that I might have misinterpreted the intention behind your untimely decampment.’

  Cassandra moved her shoulders. ‘I—I’m sorry you’ve had a wasted journey.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ His eyes narrowed.

  ‘I mean—I’m not sorry about leaving you this morning. The mistake was in letting—letting it happen in the first place.’

  ‘You think so?’ He looked impatiently at her. ‘Cass, you’re not making sense.’

  ‘I thought I was.’ Cassandra forced herself to continue: ‘Last night—happened. I can’t alter that. But I can make sure it doesn’t happen again.’

  Jay stared at her incredulously. ‘Why would you want to do that?’ He made a helpless gesture. ‘Last night was good, Cass. We were good together.’

  Cassandra’s tongue circled her lips. ‘I’d rather not have a discussion about it—–’

  ‘The hell you wouldn’t!’ Jay’s temper surfaced a little. ‘So what are you trying to say? That I should say thanks very much, and walk out of here?’

  Her chest felt constricted. ‘Is that so surprising?’

  Jay breathed noisily. ‘You tell me.’

  Cassandra bent her head. ‘I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you the rules of the game, Jay. Let’s not pretend last night was the preliminary to a declaration of marriage. We both know that’s not true. I—I wouldn’t want it to be true,’ she hastened quickly, in case he should get the wrong impression. ‘It was a—a pleasant experience—–’

  ‘A pleasant experience!’ Jay’s oath was crude. ‘For God’s sake, Cass, don’t give me that. Last night you discovered you were a woman, and I helped you make that discovery. It was no—pleasant experience! It was fantastic, and you know it. Stop kidding yourself. We can’t give up something like that.’

  ‘We must.’ Cassandra took a backward step, dismayed to discover his words were a powerful intoxicant in themselves. ‘Jay, I’m sorry if you thought I—I wanted an affair with you. I—I am grateful to you, but I—I can’t get involved in that kind of a relationship—–’

  Jay watched her intently. ‘Why not?’

  Cassandra’s nerves stretched. ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ she exclaimed distractedly. ‘It’s not what I want. I—I’m a career person. I can’t afford these kind of distractions. I—I admit that—that once I did think I was the kind of person who could have that kind of relationship, but I’m not! I suppose, having been married—–’

  ‘You weren’t married!’ Jay overrode her savagely. ‘You only lived with a man!’

  ‘In—in spite of the fact that I was married,’ she persisted unevenly, ‘I don’t want that kind of relationship now. I’m sorry, but there it is.’

  ‘So what am I supposed to do?’

  ‘You?’ Cassandra was confused. ‘I—I don’t know what you mean.’

  ‘I mean, if I don’t accept this?’ His mouth twisted self-derisively. ‘Incredible as it is, I still want you. So what am I to do about that?’

  Cassandra’s knees felt like jellies. This was a
situation she had never dreamt of having to handle. If she had anticipated this scene at all, it was in terms of his contempt and anger, never his forbearance. It disconcerted her, and unnerved her, not least because she guessed he could be a formidable adversary . . .

  ‘I think you’d better go,’ she said at last, nervously, steeling herself against his unconscious attraction, and his hands fell loosely to his sides.

  ‘Okay,’ he said, and her initial reaction was one of intense relief that he was letting her off so lightly. But his next words had her groping for support. ‘We’ll get married,’ he said indifferently, almost as if he was discussing the weather. ‘So long as you don’t expect church bells and flowers, and some long-winded parson to give us his blessing! The register office will do very well, and as long as it’s legal, what do you care?’

  Cassandra gasped. She was shocked. His proposal was so completely improbable. And he evidently expected her to agree. She found it almost insulting. Something had to be said. Somehow she had to dismiss his proposal, and quickly, before its attractions got the better of her.

  ‘M—marry you?’ she echoed at last, her voice several octaves higher than normal. ‘You—must be joking!’

  Jay’s mouth drew into a tight line. ‘No, I am not joking. Nor do I enjoy hearing my perfectly reasonable proposition spoken of in that tone.’

  ‘I see.’ Cassandra was a trembling mass of jelly, but she managed to proceed. ‘Well, I don’t think you should make a mockery of marriage.’

  ‘Don’t be so bloody childish! I’m not mocking it.’

  ‘Aren’t you?’

  Jay took a step towards her. ‘Let me show you—–’

  ‘No!’ She was very definite about that. ‘I—I want you to get out of here—now!’

  To her dismay, there was a tremor in her voice when she spoke, and she prayed he would not realise how precariously her defiance was balanced.

  ‘Cass—–’ He must have realised it, she thought unsteadily, as his tone took on a sensuousness that sent unwilling shivers of excitement up her spine. If he touched her now, she would be lost, she thought fatalistically. She would never be able to send him away, and he would instantly guess the truth.

  ‘Cass—–’ He said her name again, and her heart almost stopped beating when his hands descended on her shoulders. It was too late now to try to step back from him, and she might precipitate his actions if she tried to drag herself away. ‘Cass, why do you go on fighting me?’ he demanded, his thumbs stroking the taut lines of her throat. ‘We were so good together. Don’t you want to see how much better it can be?’

  ‘No!’

  But her denial was a plaintive cry that he ignored as he drew her towards him. The warm clean smell of his body enveloped her, the delicious fragrance of his skin lightly imbued with some tangy shaving lotion mingling with his scent of maleness. It wasn’t fair, she thought, her cheek brushing the velvet texture of his lapel. Being near to him like this was actual physical torment, and for the first time in her life she ached for a man’s possession. But not any man, just this man, she acknowledged despairingly, and gave her lips up to his kiss.

  ‘Ah, Cass—–’ he groaned, his mouth sending her senses spinning in mindless rapture, and as passion leapt between them, she was helpless to resist. His hands slid proprietorially over her back to her hips, probing beneath her shirt and pressing her to him. She felt the stirring muscles between his legs, and as his possessive fingers brought her firmly against his hardness, the quivering, betraying weakness in the pit of her stomach made her a prisoner in his grasp . . .

  The chime of her doorbell was like the voice of reason fighting back the powers of darkness, and Cassandra drew an uncertain breath. ‘Thea!’ she breathed, pressing her hands against his chest, and with a muffled oath Jay was forced to let her go.

  ‘Get rid of her,’ he muttered, raking back his hair with an unsteady hand, revealing he was not as controlled now as he had been earlier, but Cassandra had very definite ideas about who wanted getting rid of.

  ‘Darling!’ she exclaimed eagerly, opening the door, and grasping Thea’s arm before she could move away. ‘Come in, come in! I was beginning to wonder where you’d got to.’

  ‘Oh, you know Peggy Skinn—–’ Thea was beginning in a vaguely bewildered tone, when she caught sight of Jay, motionless across the room. ‘But you’ve got company, Cass. I—don’t want to intrude—–’

  ‘Jay was just leaving,’ declared Cassandra flatly, ignoring his sudden intake of breath. ‘I—I think we’ve said all there is to say to one another, haven’t we?’ She didn’t give him a chance to reply before adding: ‘If ever you need your apartment renovating, however—–’

  ‘Cass—–’

  ‘Cass—–’

  They both spoke simultaneously, Thea evidently embarrassed by the invidiousness of her position, Jay’s face contorted with an anger he made no attempt to conceal.

  ‘Please—–’ Cassandra drew an uneven breath and pressed her hands together. ‘It—it’s late. I wish you would go, Jay. I—I—it’s no use. I’m sorry.’

  Thea exchanged a troubled look with the man, her expression mirroring her confusion, and as if respecting the older woman’s position, Jay pushed his hands into the pockets of his jacket.

  ‘Okay,’ he said flatly. ‘Okay, I’ll go.’ He walked across the floor and paused before Cassandra. ‘But it’s not over, Cass, believe me. I’ll be seeing you again.’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Cassandra countered tremulously, and with a sound of frustration Jay strode out of the door, allowing it to slam behind him.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  THE heat in the sauna was stifling, and Jay could feel the sweat pouring out of him. Great droplets of moisture rolled down his face from the lustreless mat of his hair, and the towel thrown carelessly across his thighs barely soaked up the perspiration running from his chest and shoulders. It was hardly a satisfying experience, more a tortuous endurance before the delightful coolness of the pool, but despite the steamy atmosphere, Jay’s mind was crystal clear.

  He was going to leave the Post, but not, as he had once considered, to accept the job he had been offered by one of the London television companies. He was going to make a complete break with journalism and do what he had planned to do for some years now. He was going to find a place in the country, far enough from town to discourage casual callers, and he was going to try and write the book he was sure he had in him.

  It was an appealing idea, and one he had toyed with on and off for the past eighteen months, ever since the life he had been leading had begun to pall. He had enjoyed his work, he still found journalism challenging; but he wanted more out of his life than an epitaph that read: Killed in the pursuit of ambition!

  He had spoken of his plans to his editor the night before. Of course, Hal Ames hadn’t wanted him to resign, for either reason, and he had used every trick in the book to try and change his mind. The chances of him writing anything worth publishing were unlikely at best, Hal had said scathingly, but Jay had stuck to his decision with dogged determination.

  ‘What the hell’s wrong with you?’ Hal had demanded at last. ‘Don’t tell me some female’s got her claws into you at last! God Almighty, Jay, whoever she is, she can’t be worth what you’re considering giving up!’

  ‘There is no female,’ Jay assured him flatly. ‘Can you imagine any of the girls I know being prepared to abandon their social life in favour of a cottage in the country?’

  ‘I can think of a few,’ retorted Hal drily.

  Jay sighed. ‘Hal, I’m sick to my teeth with the life I’m leading here. And besides—–’ he paused, ‘right now, it suits me to get out of London.’

  Hal sighed. ‘Okay, okay. But for how long?’

  ‘How long—what?’

  ‘How long before you get rid of this writing bug?’

  Jay lifted his shoulders. ‘As long as it takes. Maybe forever.’

  ‘Forever!’ Hal was appalled. ‘Hell, Jay,
you can’t mean that!’ He shook his head. ‘I give it nine months—no,’ this as Jay’s eyes hardened, ‘—a year. I’ll give you a year to get this—this foolishness out of your system. After that, we talk again, right? I can’t say fairer, can I?’

  Jay shifted now, getting up from the stone slab where he had been lying, and walking to the door. Outside, the air struck him with a blast of coolness, even though the area around the swimming pool was heated. But after the sweltering humidity of the sauna, anywhere would feel cool, and shedding his towel, he dived smoothly into the water.

  It was like silk against his moist skin, rinsing away all impurities, leaving him feeling sharp and alert. With real enjoyment he swam strongly to the end of the pool and back again, prolonging the feeling of well-being, loath to leave the undemanding freedom of the club. This was something he would miss, he reflected. He always took advantage of its superlative facilities when he was in London.

  Thirty minutes later, refreshed, dried, and dressed in beige slacks and a tan leather jerkin, he left the health club and drove his green Ferrari across town to his apartment in Winslow Court. It was barely eight o’clock when he let himself into his flat on the eighth floor and his housekeeper, Mrs Temple, was just preparing his breakfast.

  Although the apartment boasted a dining room, as well as a spacious living room, Jay invariably ate breakfast in the kitchen, preferring the informality. It gave him an opportunity to speak to Mrs Temple, and she enjoyed telling him the latest news about her son and daughter-in-law who had emigrated to Canada. Mrs Temple had been with Jay for more than ten years, ever since his salary enabled him to lease this apartment and employ a housekeeper, and although he had spent months of every year out of the country, he could always rely on Mrs Temple being there whenever he needed her.

  ‘Good morning,’ she greeted him warmly as he came into the kitchen, and Jay lifted his eyes from the newspaper he was scanning to give her a faintly abstracted smile.