Phantom Marriage. PENNY JORDAN

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      ‘You still want me to keep on working with you?’ Tara asked shakily.

      His eyebrows rose, mockery in the brown eyes. ‘Sure I do,’ he confirmed. ‘It’s good for my ego having such a sexy lady about the place, and besides,’ he paused and grinned, ‘you’re the best assistant I’ve ever had.’

      It was with a much lighter heart that Tara went about her work, and she accepted with pleasure when Chas suggested that she take the Friday afternoon off in order to prepare for the weekend away.

      ‘This doesn’t mean I’ve given up,’ he warned her, ‘simply that I’m declaring a cease-fire, okay?’

      She was still smiling when she reached home, even though she was now entertaining grave doubts about the wisdom of agreeing to Sue’s invitation. As the Monday was a Bank Holiday Susan had insisted that the three of them stay over for the extra day, and knowing the twins’ propensity for getting themselves and their clothes grubby, Tara was kept busy washing and ironing prior to their visit.

      Neither of the twins would have much in common with Sue’s toddler, she reflected as she packed their cases, but as they prepared for bed on the Friday night, both of them were so excited about the weekend ahead that Tara’s heart smote her.

      They got so few treats of this nature, it would have been grossly unfair of her to deprive them of it simply because she couldn’t face up to the past.

      Her mother and James were now divorced, or so Sue had said. What had happened to him? Tara wondered. She had learned from her own mother after the twins’ birth that Sue’s mother had had a considerable shareholding in the company James had inherited from his father. He had rarely discussed business with her; their time together had been too precious, too highly emotionally charged for Tara to want to waste any of it discussing business.

      Forget James, forget the past, she told herself sternly, unwilling to acknowledge the small ache which threatened to flare into agonising pain if she let it. Why had she never been able to free herself from the spell of the past? Other girls suffered similar mishaps and went on to make successful marriages elsewhere; to forge loving relationships with other men—why hadn’t she been able to? Was it because she had felt guilty about what had happened? Guilty and besmirched. The attitudes of the small village in which they lived were very narrow, and as well as the burden of James’s rejection she had also had to bear the bitter anger of her mother.

      If she had not woven such romantic daydreams around James none of it would have happened; but she had refused to see the truth, that he was simply a man trapped in an unhappy marriage who had turned to her for sexual solace and had never for one moment felt a tithe of the love for her that burned within her for him.

       CHAPTER THREE

      SHE woke up with a headache; a heavy unrelenting pressure behind her eyes and a lethargic disinclination to do anything, much less spend an entire weekend having to be polite to virtual strangers. But she couldn’t disappoint the twins, neither could she run the risk of Chas catching her out in a lie. She wished desperately that he would cease his pursuit of her. In other circumstances she would simply have given him a cool rebuff, but he was her employer and she could not afford to lose her job.

      The twins were wildly excited, making her feel guilty about her own dread of the weekend ahead. For some perverse reason Mandy, who normally disdained feminine frills in favour of jeans and sweat-shirts, decided that she wanted to wear a pretty cotton pinafore Tara had bought for her several weeks previously, and by the time the requisite underskirt and spotless white blouse had been found to wear with it Tara’s head was thumping nauseously.

      Susan had arranged for her chauffuer to pick them up at ten o’clock, and by a miracle by ten to the packing was done and the twins ready, which was more than could be said for her, Tara decided feverishly, tugging a comb through her hair and applying lipstick deftly to the soft curves of her mouth.

      The unexpected sunshine had prompted her into a new outfit she had bought for work and not yet worn She had seen it in a small boutique off South Moulton Street, reduced because of its small size, and had bought it knowing that it would be just right for the receptions Chas sometimes held in the evening as a publicity exercise.

      A rich, vivid blue, it was a three-piece in pure silk with a camisole top which just skimmed the curves of her breasts, and a softly shaped skirt gathered into a deep waistband and topped with a matching jacket, whose sleeves she rolled back in the fashion she had seen adopted by the models who came to the studio.

      Working in such an environment meant that she had developed a keen eye for adapting prevalent trends to her own personality. The silk brushed sensuously against her skin; she had left her hair in a soft cloud against her shoulders, and the sample of the new Armarni scent the Vogue Beauty Editor had given her had been used to good effect. Such samples were her one and only perk. At Christmas she had been presented with what amounted to almost a full trousseau of luxurious Italian underwear by the manufacturer; a gesture of his gratitude for the effect of advertisements Chas had photographed, although such munificence was relatively rare.

      Today she was wearing some of it; the briefest of satin bras trimmed with handmade lace to match the dainty suspender belt and briefs that were part of the set.

      Vanity was largely responsible for today’s primping, she decided, giving herself a last brief look in her mirror. Even though at one time she and Susan had once been as close as sisters a wide gulf yawned between them now.

      Susan was a rich man’s wife, and it showed, and although she would never be guilty of patronising a less fortunate friend, Tara had no wish to earn her pity by arriving in inexpensive chain-store casuals.

      First impressions always counted, Tara reminded herself and when she and the twins stepped out of Susan’s Rolls she didn’t want them to look like the poor relations.

      Susan had explained to her that she and her husband would be driving down to the country ahead of them, which was why the Rolls was free to transport Tara, but despite the knowledge that her appearance was both chic and sophisticated she couldn’t stop the tiny bubbles of anxiety forming in the pit of her stomach when the twins’ joint shrieks announced the arrival of their transport.

      Not wanting to keep the chauffeur waiting, Tara sped downstairs, picking up their case with one hand and ushering the twins through the front door with the other. Outside she told them to wait while she checked her handbag for keys and money, and carefully locked the door.

      The sight of the immaculate Rolls seemed to have a subduing effect upon the twins, because they clung uncertainly to Tara’s side as she hustled them towards the waiting car.

      As they approached it the driver’s door opened and a man emerged. Her first thought was that he wasn’t wearing a uniform, but this was quickly submerged by a sickening wave of recognition mingled with stunned disbelief.

      ‘Tara!’

      He said her name evenly, the inflection which in the past had sent her weak-kneed with pleasure totally banished. He had changed; or was it simply that her perception of him had changed from that of a bemused teenager to that of a disillusioned woman?

      ‘James.’ Somehow she managed to force a stiff smile from features as tautly fragile as eggshells. Now she was the one clinging to the twins, filled by an overwhelming impulse to turn on her heel and seek the sanctuary of her home.

      James СКАЧАТЬ