An Imperfect Affair Read online

  ‘Alan Sargeant?’ he exclaimed, and his brow furrowed threateningly.

  ‘Yes...yes,’ Verity murmured in puzzlement. ‘You know him?’ If he did he didn’t look too happy about it.

  Rupert nodded as if something was suddenly dawning on him, ‘Go on.’

  ‘Alan thought I needed a break,’ Verity went on, masking off the apprehension that was suddenly misting her thoughts. Was Alan involved in this supposed conspiracy too? ‘We’d planned a book, a spin-off from the magazine I work for. We’ve done them before. This one’s a book for brides-to-be, how to get fit for the big day. Diets and exercise regimes, that sort of thing. Most of the groundwork has been done by one of the other editors and now it just needs putting together, and Alan thought it a good idea to pack me off here for a month to do it.’ She wasn’t going to tell him about Mike’s death; that was no concern of his.

  ‘And?’

  ‘And what?’

  ‘And that’s it?’

  Verity wrapped her hands round her cup to warm her lingers. She was getting colder by the minute. Stuart had warned her that it might be chilly in the hills, but she hadn’t been prepared for this cavernous house with its solid stone walls, seemingly to be hewn out of the very rock it was built against.

  ‘Yes, that’s it,’ she murmured, her jaw aching from fighting to stop her teeth from chattering. ‘Nothing more, nothing less.’

  ‘What a very considerate boss you have. A month in Spain, all expenses paid, no doubt. Sounds too good to be true, and what has your cousin to do with this?’

  The edge to his voice added to her apprehension. ‘A... a friend of his owns this place and it was vacant—’

  ‘But it wasn’t,’ he cut in. ‘I’m here and Stuart knew that—it was he who offered me the place. What connection has he with your boss, Alan Sargeant?’

  ‘Questions, questions,’ she couldn’t help retorting. ‘In spite of the dinner party and the restaurant and the fact that Stuart loaned you this place, you really don’t know him very well at all, do you?’

  ‘And after this little mystery I don’t think I want to. Now are you going to tell me the connection or not?’

  ‘They met at university and have been close friends ever since; in fact, they’re related too. Stuart’s wife, Angie, is Alan’s sister, so they’re brothers-in-law,’ Verity efficiently informed him, though what difference it would make to this situation she couldn’t imagine.

  ‘Aha, the plot thickens!’ Rupert gave a cynical smile and lifted his cup to his mouth.

  ‘What plot?’ Verity husked. She didn’t know it, but her eyes had widened innocently.

  ‘Is that an act?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘That innocent look in your eyes.’

  Verity slammed her cup down on the table. ‘A Thespian I’m not, impatient I am. Will you kindly tell me what is going through your mind?’

  ‘Don’t you think this all rather a little odd?’ he suggested darkly. ‘First the dinner party to bring us together, then that contrived meeting in the restaurant, and now this.’

  Verity lowered her lashes. At the time she had been mad with Stuart for trying to pair her off with this man. But later she had forgiven him. She understood that he’d done it out of love and concern for her. She had lost Mike but she didn’t want another man in her life so soon after their rocky relationship had ended so tragically. She wanted time and space to pick up the pieces and try to forget and had thought she had got her point through to her cousin. Apparently not. Stuart was convinced that she needed a new man in her life and it was this one sitting across from her. Rupert Scott.

  ‘I like it even less than you,’ she husked and then bravely raised her eyes to his. ‘Listen. I’ve no interest in you whatsoever,’ she told him earnestly. ‘I’m sure Stuart’s intentions were...were...’

  ‘Don’t say honourable or thoughtful or kind,’ he warned sardonically, his eyes sheet-metal grey and hard. ‘I loathe these sort of manipulative tactics and I dread to think what nonsense they’ve stuffed your pretty little head with—’

  ‘Will you stop this and tell me what is going on?’ she pleaded.

  His lips tightened and she thought she would never prise the truth from them. Why were they both here? It certainly wasn’t a coincidence. It had been plotted and planned, she was convinced of that now, but why was he so reluctant to tell her the truth?

  He stood up suddenly and gathered up the dirty cups. If she knew him better she might be led to believe that he didn’t want to face her. He spoke at last, almost kindly but verging on patronisingly.

  ‘I believe you now. You really don’t know what is going on, do you?’

  Verity could only shake her head.

  ‘Perhaps your cousin is cleverer than I thought, or maybe subtler is a more accurate description.’

  ‘I still don’t know what you are getting at,’ Verity murmured.

  ‘Why do you think we are both here?’

  Verity swept her hair from her face and shifted uncomfortably in her seat. ‘I... I presume it was another of Stuart’s matchmaking attempts.’

  He laughed and shook his head. ‘I can find my own women when I want them, and you’re a pretty snappy-looking girl yourself—I shouldn’t think you have any problems picking up a man. No, treasure, this is far more devious than it appears.’

  ‘And you know precisely how devious, don’t you?’ Her heart was beginning to thud dangerously. It was a ridiculous situation. The dinner party was excusable on reflection, but not the restaurant and this third attempt? Teaming the two of them in an isolated mill house in Andalucía was... was determined, to say the least. ‘Stuart and Alan are in this together, aren’t they?’ she breathed heavily.

  ‘I’m afraid so,’ Rupert grated, drawing a hand through his thick black hair. ‘At first I thought you were a part of the scheme, but I don’t think you’re that good a liar.’ His eyes narrowed at her sharp intake of breath, but he didn’t apologise. ‘It doesn’t change anything. We are here together and what they expected to happen isn’t difficult to imagine. But bedding you won’t change my mind.’

  Bedding? Verity shook her head, not believing what she was hearing. An affair with this man? Was that what her two so-called friends wanted and expected? But for what, she couldn’t imagine. No, the idea was impossible. The chill inside her froze to the depths of her soul. They were chalk and cheese, as compatible as fire and water, even less likely of making a perfect match than her and Mike. And Mike was dead, but this man was very much alive, and if she stayed...

  She suppressed a shudder of dread and opened her mouth to speak, and when the words came out they were very determined and strong.

  ‘I think you’d better tell me everything you suspect,’ she directed at him coolly, ‘but before you do let’s get one thing straight. You’re right. I’m not a part of this and I’m not a liar. If there is a plot I know nothing about it. I came here in innocence and I plan to leave here in innocence too. I think you know what I mean.’

  His lips tightened and his smoky grey eyes held hers. ‘I know exactly what you mean,’ he smoothed silkily.

  Suddenly he stepped towards her and she flinched as he lifted a tendril of her long, silky fair hair from her shoulder. Surprised and confused, Verity closed her eyes for an instant as he rolled the pale golden tendril between his fingers and thumb as if testing its quality and strength, and when she opened her eyes and looked up at him with wide-eyed innocence he gave her a lazy smile that tightened her stomach muscles into a knot of apprehension.

  Very quietly, very suggestively, he husked, ‘Innocence, huh? I wonder just how innocent you are, Verity Brooks. You look it, you breathe it, but I wonder.’

  ‘Well, wonder no longer and take my word for it, Rupert Scott,’ she breathed defiantly. ‘I don’t do business in bed either.’

  ‘Business might not come into it,’ he told her, his voice so softly timbered that she was more afraid than ever. ‘Let’s not make promises we can’t
keep because that would be an added complication. Instead, let’s both keep our options open on that innocence statement of yours, shall we?’

  She didn’t answer; she couldn’t answer. That apprehension knotted inside her balled to something bigger and far more worrying. All the same, she held his grey eyes as defiantly and as determinedly as he held hers.

  She wondered just how far he would push her with shrouded threats like that, for at this moment he was a far cry from that aloof, sophisticated man who had shown so little interest in her in the company of others. But they weren’t in the company of others now, they were isolated together in so-called romantic Andalucía, where you could reach out and kiss the moon and clasp a handful of stars to your heart. And Rupert Scott wasn’t half so daunting here, and yet he was, and suddenly he seemed very interested indeed in her and she wondered if she hated him as much as she had hyped herself up to.

  That was a very perturbing conclusion to come to, one that warranted more tentative thought— later.

  CHAPTER TWO

  ‘So...so what’s going on here?’ Verity asked when Rupert had sat down again. She nervously smoothed her hand over her hair where he had touched it. It was soft and silky and she wondered what had gone through his mind when he had felt it, though, given time, it wouldn’t have taken much guessing. It had been an intimate gesture and unexpected, and she wasn’t at all sure about the feeling that it had pulsed in her veins. She was beginning to feel a bit soft in the head and dangerously vulnerable.

  ‘Your cousin runs an advertising agency and Alan Sargeant is an ambitious editor, and—’

  ‘And what’s that got to do with us?’ she interrupted.

  ‘Let me finish and you’ll find out.’

  Verity clutched her numb fingers in her lap. ‘I’m sorry. Carry on.’

  ‘I have various companies that put out a lot of advertising. In a year I spend on promotion what some companies pay their staff. At the moment I’m considering adding a cable-television franchise to my corporation, increasing my Atlantic fleet of aircraft, restructuring the film company and expanding the recording outfit.’

  Verity nearly laughed out loud at that verbal scrolling of his business interests. There he was, sitting across from her, looking like a latent hippie in his tracksuit and boots and hardly the pecunious man he had appeared at the dinner party. She bet he was warm, though. She shivered and concentrated her thoughts on what he was getting at.

  ‘And Stuart is pitching for all your advertising,’ she suggested.

  Rupert nodded. ‘He’s too small, though. I’ve already told him that. We met last year and I like and admire him, but I can’t use him. The agency I use is the biggest in Europe.’

  ‘Spencers?’

  He frowned. ‘So you do know more about this than you’re letting on.’

  She shook her head. ‘No, I don’t, but I’m in the publishing business and know they’re the biggest and the best.’ Her eyes widened painfully as she looked at him. ‘You thought that I was here to seduce you for your advertising account?’ Her stomach constricted at the thought.

  ‘I’m afraid so.’

  Verity’s eyes narrowed in disbelief. She was beginning to feel very bitter about this, with Stuart for exposing her to such humiliation and Rupert Scott for believing she was capable of such a despicable action.

  ‘If I were the Delilah you thought I was when I arrived I’d be in on this—and I’m not.’ She glared at him. ‘You do believe me, don’t you?’

  He nodded his very dark head. ‘I’ve already told you that I do. If I didn’t you wouldn’t be sitting there shivering now, you’d be well on your way back to the airport with a flea in your ear.’ He stood up. ‘I’ll do something about warming this place up.’

  Verity stood up with him, her legs wobbling a bit with fatigue. ‘But we haven’t finished yet.’

  She rubbed her forehead fretfully. It wasn’t as simple as that. There was more, much more. So she wasn’t here to seduce him but she was here nevertheless, and so was he, and Stuart and Alan had arranged it all.

  ‘You suggested that Stuart put me up to this, but you were wrong. I knew nothing about it and, besides... besides, he wouldn’t do that sort of thing.’

  Hurt suddenly filled her. ‘Stuart is my cousin; he cares about me. He wouldn’t use me this way.’

  He held her eyes steadily. ‘Who knows what slimy depths a man will sink to if his back’s against the wall?’

  ‘And what exactly do you mean by that?’ Verity asked fiercely. She loved her cousin and no one would put him down behind his back, least of all this man.

  Rupert let out a disgruntled sigh. ‘Look, Verity, I’m not into causing family rifts. If you want answers, go home and ferret them out of your cousin.’ He turned away to go through to the vaulted sitting-room, and Verity caught at his arm as he went past her.

  ‘No, you don’t,’ she exploded. ‘You started all this, so you finish it. You’ve made sickening accusations since I’ve arrived, and for all I know they’re a pack of wicked lies.’

  He prised her white fingers from the sleeve of his tracksuit and his metallic grey eyes penetrated hers deeply. ‘I’m not a liar, Verity, and I have precious little time to waste on arguing the toss with you. Tell me something: do you love your cousin?’

  ‘Of course I do!’ she retorted indignantly. ‘We’re more like brother and sister than cousins. What has that got to do with all this?’

  ‘Everything,’ he replied tightly. ‘Families are renowned for closing ranks to outsiders in times of trouble and anxiety. I’m that outsider at the moment and you wouldn’t believe a word said against Stuart, so this conversation is going precisely nowhere. I came here to work, not to get involved with family problems.’

  Verity followed him through to the sitting-room and stood behind him as he knelt to rake the dead ashes in the huge grate.

  ‘That’s not fair to me,’ she told the back of his head. ‘What do you mean by trouble and anxiety? You seem to know more about my cousin’s business affairs than I do at the moment. I came here in all innocence to work too. This is equally if not more unpleasant for me. You’ve hinted at—’

  ‘At too much already,’ he grated over his shoulder as he made a pile of kindling in the grate.

  ‘And you’re not prepared to tell me more?’

  He swivelled on his haunches to look up at her. ‘Look, Verity, this has nothing to do with me. I can’t be expected to take on family hassles. I’m a busy man—’

  ‘Oh, to hell with you!’ Verity cried in frustration, and swung away and headed back to the kitchen.

  ‘Where are you going?’ he called after her.

  ‘Home, of course. Back to England. I’m not staying to have obscure accusations made of my family. You’re right, we close ranks to outsiders.’ She stopped and glared across the room at him. ‘I sincerely hope we don’t ever meet again. If we do, it will be my pleasure to sock you in the jaw for your damned arrogance!’ She swung round and carried on.

  ‘Haven’t you forgotten something?’ he called after her.

  She stopped once again. ‘Yes, of course, my manners. Thanks for the tea!’

  ‘I meant your luggage,’ he sighed irritably. ‘I didn’t bring it in. I must have had a premonition of impending doom!’ she bit back icily, and strode purposefully on.

  She wrenched open the kitchen door and flew out into fresh air. Cold fresh air and it was dark too, and the bastard wasn’t even going to try to stop her!

  She hurried down the steps to the pink driveway. The thought of finding her way back down to the coast with just the lights of her car to guide her was terrifying. Some gentleman he was! He might have suggested she stay the night at least. She recalled that he had and then things had got a bit sticky... Damn him and damn her silly pride. If she weren’t so stubborn she could have got a good night’s sleep before leaving. But her stubbornness was nothing to his. He should have told her what was going on. But in one way he was right—she probably
wouldn’t have believed him. He could have tried, though, instead of taking that damned secretive attitude.

  Lights suddenly blazed across the driveway. That was something at least. He’d put the outside lights on so that she could see to load the car up. When she’d arrived in her hired car from the airport she had unloaded everything on to the drive, and then she had run up the steps to the terrace where Stuart had told her the key would be under a flowerpot. She had found no key and had wandered round to the side of the house and found the back door open, and the rest had been a nightmare discovery: Rupert Scott, here in this house and as awful as ever.

  The groceries she’d bought on the coast had toppled and were strewn across the driveway. She squatted down to gather them together when a hand hauled her up.

  ‘Get back inside the house. I’ll see to this.’

  Her first reaction was to lash out at him for touching her again, but he seemed to know how she felt and his grip tightened on her arm.

  ‘Don’t argue, Verity. I’m not the heartless monster you think I am. Get back up to the house and find a bedroom and bathroom—there are enough of them—and we’ll talk about this later.’

  She didn’t argue. Not one word of protest passed her lips. Wearily she left him to it, climbing back up the stone steps and thanking God that he had a heart after all. She’d never have made that drive back to the airport in the dark, and she was too exhausted to even argue with that awful man.

  The massive studded front door was open now and she stepped directly into that cavernous main room which gave her the shivers. Stone steps rose to a gallery above the room and then more steps to the bedrooms. Verity took them wearily, forking left on a stone landing. His room was right. She wanted to be as far away from him as possible. She picked the smallest of the two bedrooms available, the one with twin beds and its own small bathroom opening off from it. She sat on her hands on one of the beds and waited for him to bring her case up. Her thoughts went to Stuart and Alan. What on earth were they up to? She knew her cousin wanted to expand his agency, but surely not at the price of her honour? No, Rupert Scott was very wrong.