Sharon Kendrick Collection. Sharon Kendrick

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СКАЧАТЬ He didn’t seem satisfied until he had her sobbing out her shuddering pleasure, night after night…but he’d never asked her to stay.

      She made herself a coffee and then went to stand at the window, where the bright hues of early summer dazzled from the garden in the square. How on earth could she ever go back to being what she had been?

      Or maybe that was the wrong way to look at it. She could never really go back to being the old Sabrina—there was a new one now, ready and willing to take her place. And rebirth, like birth, was always painful. Why else would she feel this terrible, tearing pain at the thought of never seeing Guy Masters again?

      Would he miss her? she wondered achingly. Probably, just a little, yes. And certainly in bed. But the missing, like their relationship, would be unequal. Guy called the shots and Guy had all the control. He would miss her for a little while and then move on.

      Sabrina glanced down at her watch. It was only just past six, so there was at least an hour and a half before he would grace the flat with his presence.

      She had bought a load of cheap vegetables at the market, and she had just begun to chop them in order to make a soup when there was a sharp ring at the doorbell. Wiping her hands down over the apron which she insisted on wearing, and which Guy always teased her about, Sabrina went to answer it, to find Tom Roberts standing on the doorstep.

      ‘Hi, Tom.’ She smiled affectionately.

      She’d last seen Guy’s cousin at a drinks party a couple of weeks ago, and then he’d been sipping at a Bloody Mary and laughing at something Sabrina had said. But today he looked wary.

      ‘Hi, Sabrina—may I come in?’

      ‘Oh, yes, of course, of course,’ babbled Sabrina, and pulled the door open. ‘Only I’m afraid that Guy isn’t back from work yet.’

      ‘I know that. It isn’t Guy I’ve come to see. It’s you.’

      ‘Oh.’ She smiled. ‘That’s nice. You’d better come in.’

      ‘Thanks.’ He followed her into the sitting room and sat down.

      Sabrina looked at him expectantly. ‘Can I get you a drink, Tom?’

      ‘No, thanks—I’m out to dinner later and Trudi will kill me if I turn up with an inane grin on my face.’ He suddenly grew serious. ‘Is it really true? Guy says you’re leaving.’

      Hearing the words spoken aloud like that by a third person made Sabrina realise just how horribly true it was.

      ‘That’s right. I am.’

      ‘But, Sabrina, why? I mean, I’ve never seen him looking so contented—happy, even! And you’re the first woman he’s ever lived with, even though women have been mounting campaigns to snare him for years. He says that he doesn’t want you to go, but that you’re going anyway. So why?’

      She shook her head. ‘I can’t go into it, Tom. It’s too complicated, and it isn’t fair on Guy.’

      ‘Fair on Guy?’ Tom repeated slowly. ‘Sabrina, look…’ He seemed to be having difficulty choosing the right words. ‘I’ve known Guy all my life, but, with him, what you see isn’t automatically what you get.’

      ‘You’re talking in riddles, Tom.’

      He pulled a face. ‘Everyone looks at him and thinks that he’s Mr Invulnerable—strong and rich and powerful—’

      ‘Maybe that’s because he is,’ observed Sabrina drily.

      ‘Yeah, I know all that. And that’s what he likes to project. But that’s only part of the package—he keeps a lot of himself hidden. That highly controlled and tough exterior he’s cultivated—that’s what he shows to the world.’

      ‘You’re telling me,’ said Sabrina bitterly. ‘The man for whom the term, “workaholic” was invented.’

      ‘And have you never stopped to ask yourself why?’

      ‘Tom, you know him better than almost anyone—so you must also know that he doesn’t like to talk about himself.’

      ‘Well, maybe it’s about time you tried! I mean, like, really tried! Have you?’

      ‘When a door is kept locked you give up trying to open it,’ she said.

      ‘You could always try kicking it down,’ he suggested softly.

      ‘Women don’t kick doors down,’ Sabrina objected, forgetting for a moment that they were talking metaphorically.

      ‘But they can,’ he objected. ‘It just takes longer.’

      She stared at Tom, taken aback by his vehemence, even though that wary look was still in place on his face. There was, she realised, something he wasn’t telling her. And she knew that his loyalty to his cousin meant he wouldn’t disclose it. ‘Maybe I should,’ she agreed slowly.

      ‘Anyway…’ Tom rose to his feet. ‘Time I was going. And there’s no need to mention to Guy that I was here.’

      She shook her head. ‘Don’t worry. I won’t.’

      After he’d gone, Sabrina prowled the flat, the soup forgotten, and realised that she’d been guilty of some sort of emotional cowardice. She’d fought for her independence, and a kind of equality with Guy, and yet she’d allowed herself to be daunted by that enigmatic, don’t-ask-me quality of his.

      She had shared his life, and his bed, but had stood on the sidelines when it had come to exploring his feelings—mainly out of a selfish sense of self-preservation. She’d known that he hadn’t wanted her to ask, and so she hadn’t. She’d wanted Guy, but hadn’t been prepared to risk being hurt by him—and you couldn’t do that in a relationship. Loving someone automatically made you vulnerable to pain.

      I’ve got to talk to him, she told herself. Whatever happens, I can’t leave him without having done that.

      Guy cut his meeting short, and it was clear from his secretary’s expression that she clearly thought he had taken leave of his senses.

      Well, maybe he had.

      Or maybe he was just coming to his senses.

      He found himself asking why he was prepared to let someone like Sabrina simply walk out of his life without argument. As if he had no control over the future. As though, because of one long-ago act, a pattern had been set in his life and he was powerless to change it. It was ironic, really, that he—the master of control—was allowing events to gather up speed by themselves.

      He’d spent his life shielding himself from the prying questions of women on the make. Yet Sabrina was clearly not on the make—and neither did she ask him questions.

      He was so caught up in his thoughts that he missed his stop on the tube. Another first, he thought wryly as he walked home in the golden summer sunshine. But the idea that Guy Masters—the cool and controlled Guy Masters—had misjudged a train journey he’d been making for the past who-knew-how-many years actually had him smiling ruefully.

      He СКАЧАТЬ