She heard the low rumble of an engine, which got louder before finally stopping outside the front door. She jumped up. The unmistakable sound of a door being slammed came, and a large shape appeared on the other side of the front door, a harsh knock on the glass.
‘Jane! Jane, are you in there? Open this door now. I know you’re there …’
Xavier.
She stood behind the wall for a moment, her heart thudding so loudly and heavily that she felt a little faint. The nausea was returning with a vengeance.
She went on shaky limbs to open the door, pasting what she hoped was a bland smile on her face.
He stood there bristling, dark glasses covering his eyes, hands on hips.
‘Xavier …’
He pushed his glasses onto his head, and with the sun behind him Jane was blinded for a moment. He took advantage and walked into the open-plan hall. Jane stayed by the door.
‘Well? Are you always this rude, or is it just with me?’ he asked with deceptive calm.
Every line in her body screamed from being held so tightly. ‘What’s the big deal, Xavier? I wanted to come back here to collect some things I’d forgotten, and was hoping to get to say goodbye before leaving …’
He came and stood far too close. ‘Liar. You were planning on leaving. Sasha told me.’
‘What?’
‘When I went back to the room and you were gone, I went looking for you. I met Sasha in the lobby and she told me she’d just seen you get in a cab—said you’d told her that you were leaving.’
‘But she—’ She stopped. What could she say? That Sasha had told her exactly how it was … what his little routine was … how she had organised everything, made it all too easy for his holiday fling?
She would not humiliate herself.
‘Well?’ he asked softly.
Jane wasn’t sure what Sasha was playing at. Maybe she wanted him for herself … maybe she already had him … The thought made Jane feel sick again … Maybe she was tired of accommodating his long line of women. But what did it matter anyway? It didn’t change the fact that he would be entertaining someone new next week. Why didn’t he just let her go? She looked up into his eyes and felt her equilibrium falter, tried to remember his question. Looked away.
‘Nothing, Xavier … Look, I have to leave in a few hours, so what’s the point? We’re never going to see each other again.’
His hand reached out and caught her under her chin, forcing her face to his. The warmth of his fingers made her want to lean into him. She clenched her jaw.
‘I wanted to talk to you about that.’
‘What …?’ She was having trouble concentrating on what he was saying.
‘Never seeing each other again … Forget about this morning. Why don’t you stay on for a while? You said yourself you’re subbing at the moment, without a permanent teaching position. You’re free to do what you want.’
The confusion showed in her eyes as she gazed up into his. She hadn’t expected this. Her mind, trying to make sense of what he was saying, seized on the banal.
‘But … but I can’t just stay here … I’ve got a mortgage … bills to pay.’
‘I could take care of all of that,’ he dismissed arrogantly.
The treacherous wings of something that had taken off in her heart were fast crumbling. Jane reached up and brought his hand down. ‘So … effectively you would pay for me to stay here?’
He shrugged. ‘Yes. I could make it easy for you.’
Jane tried to make sense of it.
‘You would keep me here as some sort of … paid woman … a mistress? For an affair?’
‘Well, it wouldn’t be exactly like that.’ His hand sliced the air impatiently. ‘You make it sound almost sordid.’
He took her hand and lifted it, not letting her pull away. One thumb rotated in her palm, making slow circles. She could feel herself responding. Her body and head going in completely opposite directions.
‘Jane … I haven’t had enough of you yet … and I know you feel the same way. Stay … for as long as this lasts.’
For as long as this lasts … That was the problem. It wouldn’t last for ever for him, and when it was over he’d move on, desire sated and she knew she’d be feeling about a million times worse than this very moment. He’s used to doing this.
Jane pulled her hand out of his with a jerky movement. The nausea that had diminished rose again, making her feel light-headed, and dirty, tainted, when she thought of how Sasha had set up last night’s date for him, as if Jane were some kind of concubine. It lent a harsh quality to her voice.
‘No, Xavier. I don’t want to be your mistress. You’ll find a replacement soon enough. This week has been more than enough for me.’
She’d had enough? Who was she kidding? She’d never get enough of this man. A lifetime wouldn’t be enough … and anything less wouldn’t do. And he was not in the market for lifetime commitments. How could she have forgotten that first night by the pool? Sherry had told her about his reputation.
She could see the muscle twitch in his jaw, knew she’d made a hit. She held herself erect. His ego might be wounded, but that would be it. He’d get over it. She, on the other hand … wouldn’t.
‘I’m not interested,’ she said, as if to drive the point home.
He took a step back and Jane felt a rush of air between them and a wave of desolation washed over her. The shuttered look descended. A look she hadn’t seen since that first time they’d spoken. It made her want to reach out and touch him. He backed away again and put on his shades.
‘If that’s what you want.’
She nodded miserably, trying to maintain a look of bland indifference. He turned and went through the door.
And then he was gone. The engine gunned fiercely, and with a spurt of gravel it died away into the distance. Jane couldn’t keep it down any longer, and just made it to the toilet—where she threw up violently.
Xavier forced his hands to relax their death grip on the wheel as he sped away. What a fool he’d been, allowing her to get under his skin so easily. How dared she turn him down? His hand slapped the wheel. She thought she was too good for him.
An utter fool. That was what he was. She was nothing but a tourist, looking for a story to bring home. The sooner he put the last week and her out of his mind for good, the better.
Chapter Eight
Nearly Four Months Later
JANE shouldered her way through the door of her one-bedroom ground-floor flat, shutting out the noise of the traffic and wailing sirens. She was soaked. Autumn was here with a vengeance. She dropped the bags of shopping and kicked off her shoes with relief, taking off her layers and leaving them to drip dry in the bathroom. She ran a quick hot bath and afterwards wrapped herself in her dressing gown, feeling a little better. She would have to be more careful. She sat gratefully on her sofa, placing a hand on her belly. She still couldn’t believe she was pregnant. But she was.
She remembered the shock of that day when, after weeks of relentless nausea on her return from France and then no sign of her period, dread had settled in her heart. Finally, one day after work, she had worked up the nerve to buy an over the counter test. A positive result. Confirmed by the doctor.
She hadn’t told anyone yet. Not even her mother. Even now she was barely able to contain