Two-Timing Love. Kate Proctor
all the teasing indignation she could muster. ‘Are you implying that Jamie and I aren’t fit to look after him?’
Jamie sat up at those words, silently motioning her to bring the telephone to the bed.
‘Jenny, this isn’t a joking matter,’ protested Clare as Jenny transferred herself and the telephone to the bed. ‘You both have demanding jobs!’
‘And we’re both perfectly capable of organising our work schedules to accommodate our nephew,’ stated Jenny easily, starting slightly as Jamie pressed his face hard against hers in an attempt to hear what his sister was saying.
‘I know that!’ exclaimed Clare uncertainly. ‘But it’s far too much to ask of you both.’
‘Clare, you and Graham are needed desperately right where you are,’ said Jenny quietly. ‘Of course it’s not too much to ask of us. For heaven’s sake, it’s the least we can do!’
‘And as for putting ourselves out,’ butted in Jamie against the mouthpiece, while clasping the now dozing baby to him with one arm and slipping the other round Jenny for balance, ‘on Monday we plan on setting about getting him a nanny who can take care of him during the day. How do you feel about that? I mean, we’ll get someone highly qualified and vet her as no nanny has ever been vetted before.’
‘Idiot,’ laughed Clare. ‘I know you would and I can’t fault the excellence of your idea, but he’d disrupt your lives entirely—’
‘Want to bet?’ cut in Jamie with a chuckle. ‘He’s going to have to fit around us—starting from Monday, when the three of us are going disco dancing. Then on Tuesday—’
Jenny yanked the receiver closer to her own mouth. ‘I’ve a feeling Jamie’s trying to dispel your doubts,’ she teased.
‘Jenny, I haven’t any doubts, but—’
‘No buts, Clare,’ stated Jenny firmly. ‘Not only are you where you’re most needed, but Jamie and I would probably never speak to you again if you turned our offer down.’
‘OK, OK, he’s all yours!’ protested Clare with a groaned laugh. ‘But if there’s any chance of my taking a break and getting over to England, I’ll grab it—just to check up that the pair of you aren’t turning my son into a spoiled brat!’
‘That’s typical of my sister,’ growled Jamie loudly in Jenny’s ear. ‘Doesn’t the wretched woman realise we’ll be the making of this child?’
‘Of course she does,’ chuckled Clare. ‘But listen, folks, I’ll have to go now—there’s a queue forming for use of this telephone. Either Graham or I will ring you at Jamie’s as soon as one of us can…and thanks a million, I really mean that and I hope you both appreciate how much.’
Jenny leaned over and replaced the receiver, the weight of Jamie’s body—not to mention her sudden acute consciousness of it—rendering her movements awkward.
‘What on earth are you doing?’ she demanded sharply as the increasing pressure of his arm on her shoulders threatened to send her toppling.
‘I’m trying to keep my balance,’ he muttered in a strained voice. ‘For heaven’s sake, grab the baby, will you? My arm’s completely asleep!’
Jenny eased the sleeping baby from him and placed him in the cot.
‘Shouldn’t we have changed his nappy?’ she asked uncertainly as she straightened, a groan of laughter swiftly following her words.
‘What’s so funny?’ he demanded, plainly not in the least amused as he rose, still rubbing his arm vigorously.
‘You have to admit that there is something rather incongruous in the idea of anyone consulting you concerning a baby’s welfare,’ replied Jenny, more than a little nonplussed by the hostile look to which she was being subjected.
He shrugged, then made his way to the door, obviously not about to admit anything.
‘He’d have soon let you know had he wanted his nappy changed,’ he informed her brusquely, disappearing into the sitting-room. ‘I’ll get them to send up some coffee,’ he called out. ‘We might as well get all this thrashed out tonight, as I’ll have to leave fairly early in the morning.’
Jenny followed him into the room, closing the bedroom door behind her. As he picked up the telephone extension and began ordering the coffee, Jenny spotted her overnight case, still sitting where the porter had left it. She frowned thoughtfully, wondering whether or not to offer to sleep in with Jonathan in the light of Jamie’s proposed early start.
‘You’d better sleep in with the kid,’ he informed her as he replaced the receiver, his words managing to sound more like an order than a request. ‘I’d like a night’s sleep for a change.’
‘There are a few things I’d like to make absolutely clear,’ she stated coldly, almost beside herself with anger. ‘I’ve agreed to get involved in this solely for Graham’s and Clare’s sakes. The give and take that will be necessary for this to work will in no way consist of my giving and your taking.’
As she spoke he began walking towards her, still flexing his left arm right up until the moment he drew to a halt scant inches from her.
‘It really does still rankle, doesn’t it, Jenny?’ he taunted softly. ‘The fact that you once offered me your all and I refused to take it.’
‘I’ve no idea what you’re talking about!’ she spat, lashing out wildly at him and suddenly finding herself trapped in the circle of his arms.
‘Liar,’ he whispered, his head lowering to hers. ‘I didn’t even kiss you, did I, Jenny?’ he murmured, his lips now hovering so close to hers that his every word seemed spoken on a shared breath. ‘In fact, I’ve never kissed you…until now.’
It was a kiss that triggered off a half-remembered ache that swelled to painful sharpness within her beneath the hot incitement of the lips possessing hers. And, as the search of his mouth deepened in instant response to the hungry welcome of hers, her senses began leaping in tense expectancy, her body accepting with an uncharacteristically unquestioning fatalism its blatantly erotic response to every nuance of his. When she lifted her arms to encircle his neck it was almost as if she had felt compelled to move them in order to accommodate the hands that moved in seductive exploration to caress against her breasts. It was the alien sounds of her own soft moans of pleasure, wrung from her by the nerve-tingling search of those hands, that began resurrecting long-suppressed memories within her. It had been that inexplicable ache within her that had led her to this man’s bed four long years ago; then blindly seeking a response from the lean masculine body which now was burning against hers with a blatancy of desire that was transforming the aching softness within her to an explosively demanding need.
But it was the ghostly echo of his taunting laughter that then drifted back to her across the years, reminding her of the implacable brutality with which he had once spurned her and returning her senses to her with a sharp cry of horror.
‘It’s all right—I’ll get it,’ he muttered hoarsely, confusing her completely with those inexplicable words as he released her and strode towards the door.
Her confusion lessened fractionally as she saw a waiter enter and move to the centre of the room to place a tray on a low oblong table.
She hadn’t even heard the waiter’s knock, she realised, watching the man retrace his steps while she remained as though transfixed to the spot. Yet Jamie had, and was obviously under the impression that it was the waiter’s interruption that had elicited her cry of horror.
For several seconds after the door had closed behind the man, she remained where she was, striving to bring order to the erratic distortion of her breathing while at the same time bracing herself against the almost paralysing wave of humiliation flooding through her.
Then she turned, the pride he had once so brutally damaged rallying to her support in a