‘I’II think of something.’ Maria’s voice was milky-soft.
Only what? The intensity of her response to him a minute ago filled her with self-loathing, but she was afraid too, because suddenly it seemed as if hatred was no longer enough to counter the threat he presented, and yet it was the only answer she possessed.
Quite deliberately, she summoned the memory of the anguish of six years ago, the job she loved summarily barred to her and her Communications course sacrificed; and she dwelt especially on the dilemma that had torn at her then, the agonising conflict between her obstinate determination to pursue an uninterrupted career in radio at a time when there were no positions to be had in Johannesburg but possibilities in Durban, and a heart-wrenching reluctance to leave her parents alone when advanced emphysema was shortening her father’s life so cruelly.
The hatred was enough, answer to the strange, stifling power that Luke Scott had over her, but now a new suspicion preyed on the edges of her consciousness of it, the shadowy suggestion of a conviction that the hatred had its genesis in something darker and more complex than the realities she was calling to mind.
Six years ago! Luke’s words and their possible implication slammed belatedly into her brain as she was being introduced to the entertainment editor of a local newspaper, but natural incredulity dismissed them as more talk, just words carelessly plucked from an inadequate language. Maria didn’t believe that the child she had been then could have fascinated him. If it were true, he would have done something about it. That was the sort of man he was.
Yes, there was something sexual between the two of them now, but any interest he had felt six years ago would have been connected solely with the phenomenon of the awe he had inspired, so overwhelmingly intense that it had reduced her to awkward, agonised silence every time he was around.
The restaurant that had been chosen to introduce both the radio station’s new programme manager and image to the media was splendidly stylish, opening on to a lantern-illuminated balcony all the way down one side, décor and menu strictly Chinese.
Maria thought the evening went well and could only hope those to whom this launch meant so much were equally pleased with the way she acquitted herself. At her side, introducing her to people, encouraging her to elaborate on some of her ideas for the future, Luke was urbane, expressing only suave approval, and no one could have guessed at the personal contempt he felt for her, not a hint of it—or anything else personal either—allowed to show through his sophisticated public manner.
She herself had not yet fully recovered from the trauma of those moments in the lift, but it probably didn’t matter. Who was there here who knew her well enough to discern and identify any flaws in her own polished public persona? Certainly—she hoped—not Luke himself, and while her acquaintance with Florian Jones went back to their high-school days in South Africa, she knew he was impervious to anything that did not affect him directly.
‘You do this very well,’ Luke commented smoothly later.
‘I’d rather be doing it on my own,’ Maria responded waspishly, taking advantage of the fact that no one was near enough to overhear them for the moment.
‘Sorry,’ he drawled with blatant insincerity.
‘Why don’t you go and talk to Cavell?’ The suggestion was tartly offered.
‘She’s working,’ Luke returned dismissively, and it was true, she realised, following his glance and seeing Cavell in conversation with a television reporter.
‘So am I,’ she reminded him pointedly.
‘We all are.’ There was something savage in his smile.
The look Maria gave him was inimical. That was what he hoped people would think, she knew, and so far only she was aware that he was here, relentlessly at her side, for personal reasons.
‘WHOSE idea was it that you should live here?’ Luke asked as he and Maria stepped out of another lift, this one mercifully crowded, on their return to her apartment.
‘Oh, obviously it has to be something Florian and I arranged between us, doesn’t it?’ Maria retorted sar-castically. ‘Naturally, being the sort of people we are, we felt no compunction about making use of Nicky, letting her sweet-talk the letting agent…Why haven’t you warned her about me, by the way?’
Her mind was preoccupied with a moment just several seconds in the future. Luke had brought her home as he had intended. It had been impossible to thwart him under the glare of media attention back at the restaurant, and she was still trying to decide how to deal with the situation if he wanted to come in with her when they reached her apartment—and she knew he would want to. That was what this was all about.
‘Oh, I’m not worrying about Nicky,’ Luke dismissed the challenge amusedly. ‘She’s tough, she knows how to look after herself and her interests. In fact, the two of you have a lot in common. You’ve both followed international careers, acquiring a cosmopolitan patina, you’ve both been involved with the same man…Have you compared notes yet? And I suspect that you’re as resilient in your own way as she is, so things could get interesting when she does realise that you’re out to steal her man.’
‘I am not out to steal her man!’ Maria snapped automatically.
Her steps had slowed, as if in sympathy with her mind’s reluctance to confront the looming moment.
Dear God, was this anticipation or apprehension, and why should she feel either? She had turned other men—men she didn’t hate—away at her door before now without going through all this prior angst, meeting the moment with the tact or firmness it required when it came, but not before.
‘You’re planning to share him?’ Luke probed derisively. ‘The way you did with his wife? Were you equally friendly with her?’
‘Rachel was one of my best friends from school.’ It was almost a relief to be being attacked on this particular issue, because there were other far more personal ones to be dreaded. ‘I actually introduced her to Florian.’
He threw her a sardonic glance. To your eternal regret?’
‘Yes!’ Maria said vehemently, her thoughts flying briefly to Rachel, for whom marriage was a trap in a way it could never be for Florian.
‘Why, when her existence never stopped you?’ he mocked.
‘My affair with Florian, since that’s what you choose to believe, has nothing to do with you—past or present—but why isn’t it stopping you?’ she demanded.
‘Ah, one rule for yourself, another for everyone else?’ Luke was still taunting, but naked hostility blazed in his eyes momentarily.
But they had come to the door of her apartment and the moment was here and now, impossible to delay.
She shot him an eloquent little smile and said decisively, ‘Goodnight.’
Humour gleamed in the dark grey eyes as he understood her. ‘Not yet, Maria.’
‘Right now, Luke,’ she retorted smartly, determined not to reveal her apprehension.
‘Why?’
‘Entertaining the proprietor wasn’t part of the job description,’ she offered, her tone creamy as she nerved herself to continue the debate if necessary.
‘Even if it’s the job I want to discuss with you?’
‘It’s not, though, is it?’ Of that, at least, she was confident.
Luke laughed. ‘No, as always, this is personal.’
‘Then goodnight again,’ she responded evenly as she inserted her key in the lock.
‘Why?’ he enquired idly once