Two-Timing Love. Kate Proctor
Jenny furiously. ‘How can you possibly get through trial runs in time to—?’
‘I shan’t be conducting the trials,’ he cut in sharply. ‘The rest of the team can handle those. The reason I have to get there by the weekend is that I’ve contracts to sign in connection with another boat, which are of great importance to my business. It’s something I should have had tied up a couple of days ago and which I can’t delay any longer, simply because those concerned only agreed to the signing taking place in Brazil in order to fit in with my schedule.’
‘And what about the race you’re entered in?’ demanded Jenny heatedly. ‘Presumably you intend returning to Brazil to participate in it—or can you navigate this new boat of yours by remote control?’
‘If you’d let me finish,’ he stated with steely softness, ‘you’d hear that on Monday, when I get back, I intend lining up some trained nannies for us to interview—’
‘Us?’
‘Damn it, I can hardly interview them on my own!’ he exploded. ‘I’ve no idea what constitutes a good nanny.’
‘And, being female, I have—is that it?’
‘Forget it!’ he snarled, rising to his feet. ‘We’ll just tell Clare the truth and let her sort it out for herself!’
‘This is little short of emotional blackmail,’ accused Jenny angrily, though even as she uttered the words she was conscious of her anger being directed more at herself than at the man towering over her and gazing down at her from chillingly impersonal eyes. ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake—this is ridiculous,’ she groaned. ‘Jamie, of course I’ll do everything in my power to ensure Clare and Graham can get on with their work with complete peace of mind over Jonathan.’
‘If that’s the case, how is it you’re so reluctant to hear what I have to suggest?’ he demanded.
Jenny gazed up at him, tempted to ask him to sit down again, not because looking up at his well over six feet of height was giving her a crick in her neck—which it was—but for other, less specific, in fact, barely definable reasons. Towering over her was the man who, from the first instant she had become aware of the opposite sex, she had unquestioningly regarded as the embodiment of male physical perfection. Yet at some point during the past few years she had unconsciously become convinced that her previous perception of his looks had had far more to do with her juvenile obsession than with any fact. And now she wasn’t in the least sure. For a reason she was unable to fathom, the sight of him standing there with one strong, darkly tanned arm supporting the baby against a broad shoulder seemed only to accentuate the extraordinary quality of his looks and the powerful, aggressively masculine magnetism he had always exuded.
‘It’s not that I’m reluctant to hear what you have to say,’ she sighed, lowering her eyes as she fought to rid herself of those deeply unsettling thoughts. ‘It’s just that for a number of purely practical reasons this couldn’t have happened at a worse time for me.’
To her relief he sat down again and began bouncing the baby on his lap.
‘Shouldn’t you try putting him in his cot?’ she suggested uncomfortably, the complete unexpectedness of his actions triggering off the thought in her once more that none of this was really happening to her.
‘He likes a bit of company after he’s eaten,’ he replied tersely, lifting the baby under the arms and letting him stand on his lap. ‘Could you be a bit more explicit about these practical difficulties you’re experiencing?’ he added in that same tone. ‘Clare will be ringing soon.’
‘My main problem is that I have nowhere to live,’ replied Jenny. ‘I told you about the flat I missed out on. Actually, I was staying with Lizzie Street until I found somewhere—you remember Lizzie, don’t you?’
He nodded impatiently, motioning her to continue.
‘It was very kind of her to offer to put me up, but I can’t possibly impose Jonathan on her as well.’
‘You wouldn’t have to—the most convenient solution for everyone is for you to stay at my place.’
He laughed as she started visibly.
‘What’s wrong, Jenny? Didn’t you know I had a place in London…or is it the idea of sharing it with me that’s the problem?’
‘My only problem is that I know you far too well, Jamie Castile,’ retorted Jenny, annoyed by the sensation of hot colour liberally washing her cheeks in response to the teasing mockery of his words.
‘I doubt if you know me nearly as well as you believe; though, to be fair, my innate nobility of spirit can hardly have escaped you,’ he murmured in drawling tones of mockery.
‘Your innate nobility of spirit?’ she drawled back, rolling her eyes heavenwards.
‘Jenny, there can’t be many healthily functioning males around into whose beds you’ve crept—nubile and devastatingly tempting—and left as pure as when you entered—’
‘That’s it!’ raged Jenny, leaping angrily to her feet. ‘I’ve had enough of you and your snide remarks—’
The two of them froze as the phone rang, the sound sending Jenny slumping back on to the seat from which she had just leapt.
‘I suggest you answer it,’ remarked Jamie coldly. ‘After all, you’re the one calling all the shots.’
Jenny levelled pleading eyes at him as the phone rang relentlessly on. His response was a dismissive shrug after which he turned his attention exclusively towards the baby trampling happily against his thighs.
Jenny snatched up the phone on the bedside table with no idea what she could possibly say.
‘Hello—Clare?’
‘Jenny! What a relief it is to hear your voice—I had visions of Jamie trying to cope on his own with Jonathan until he got him to England,’ exclaimed her sister-in-law.
‘I’m sure he’d have managed,’ said Jenny. ‘How are things going where you are?’ she added, the sound of Clare’s voice making her suddenly acutely aware of the terrible devastation by which both she and Graham must be surrounded.
‘I suppose we should all be thanking God that relatively so few were killed,’ replied Clare, exhaustion tingeing her words. ‘But one of the things for which Graham and I are specifically trained is to help the survivors cope with the horrific psychological trauma of it all. Jenny, you can’t begin to imagine what it’s like for these poor people. There are areas where entire villages have completely disappeared, some with virtually no loss of life…but it’s almost akin to experiencing death for the inhabitants…they’re huddled together, loath to leave the places where the majority of them have spent their entire lives, yet as they look around themselves they search in vain for a single landmark that can be recognised.’
‘Clare, you sound utterly exhausted!’ exclaimed Jenny anxiously.
‘That’s my own stupid fault,’ claimed Clare. ‘I’m afraid that what little opportunity I’ve had to sleep I’ve squandered worrying about Jonathan.’
‘You probably won’t like hearing this,’ chuckled Jenny, ‘but he doesn’t appear to be missing either of you in the least.’
‘That’s why I realise how stupid I’m being,’ admitted Clare sheepishly. ‘Fortunately he’s at the age where he’ll go to anyone without a qualm…it’s just that Jamie looked about as comfortable with him as a man with a time-bomb glued to his hands when they left.’
‘Is that so?’ laughed Jenny. ‘Because right at this very moment your brother is sprawled across the bed and your son is bouncing with vigorous abandonment on him. Listen carefully and you might just be able to catch the racket accompanying each bounce.’
She held out the receiver just in time to catch a particularly piercing shriek of delight from the baby,