That was what worried her. Miriam followed Clara down the stairs as fast as her vertiginous heels would allow. ‘Promise me you won’t say anything,’ she begged frantically. ‘Promise me, Clara.’
‘I promise.’
‘Cross your heart and hope to die.’
‘If you insist,’ Clara said brightly over her shoulder.
‘Say it.’
They had just reached the lobby and as Miriam clutched at Clara’s arm the front door opened, the girl who shared Miriam’s floor choosing that moment—of all moments—to make one of her rare trips home. Miriam wasn’t really aware of Caroline’s cheery ‘Hi’ as she sashayed past them, making for the stairs; her whole being was taken up with the tall, dark man who had put out a hand to prevent the door closing again.
‘Hello, Miriam.’
She stared into the yellow-gold eyes that had fascinated her from day one. Everything about Jay had fascinated her, from his hard, handsome face with its thick eyelashes and sexy, slightly cynical mouth to his big muscled body that was as lean and toned as any prime athlete’s. From somewhere she found the self-control to say fairly steadily, ‘Hello, Jay.’
‘I’m going to get a paper,’ Clara announced to the lobby in general rather than anyone in particular, removing herself from Miriam’s grip.
Miriam saw Jay’s eyes widen as he took in the other girl, and he looked even more taken aback when Clara gave him a ferocious glare as she passed him without speaking. If she hadn’t been feeling so wretched it would have made her smile, Miriam thought. As it was, she cleared her throat and said quietly, ‘That was Clara. She lives here too.’
‘Right.’ His eyes had narrowed. ‘I take it she knows about our current situation?’
‘She’s my friend.’
‘So I gathered from the way she looked at me.’ He waved his hand in the direction of the street. ‘The taxi’s waiting.’
He took her arm as she reached him and it took every ounce of Miriam’s will for her not to reveal the trembling his touch caused.
He smelt as good as always. The thought was there at the back of her mind as they walked to the taxi-cab and Jay helped her inside with the natural courtesy that was an integral part of him. And he looked fantastic in a beautifully tailored suit and cream shirt and tie. But then he always looked fantastic, with or without clothes.
She turned her head to look out of the window as he sat down beside her, thankful he didn’t have the power to read her wanton thoughts. And that last thought had started a process that was making her hot all over.
The taxi passed Clara, who had just reached the paper shop, and as Miriam saw the pink and mauve hair disappear into the confines of the building it was all she could do not to yell to the taxi driver to stop the car so she could dash in after her.
Jay had leaned back comfortably in the seat, his thigh touching hers and the big body relaxed. ‘How are you?’ he murmured as the tawny gaze glittered over her profile.
Miriam forced herself to glance briefly at him as she said, ‘Very well. And you?’
‘Oh, I’m great, Miriam. Just great. A different woman for every night of the week, of course; isn’t that what you want to hear?’ And then he said swiftly, ‘Sorry, forget I said that. I attack when I’m nervous but then you know that.’
She had forgotten how seductive Jay’s particular brand of ruthlessness married with vulnerability was. From their first date he had let his defences down when they were alone, something he didn’t do with anyone else. At least, that was what she’d believed once. Along with the fact that he was a one-woman man.
Her thoughts made her voice tight when she said, ‘I don’t think this evening was a good idea, Jay. Whatever needs to be said could have been said over the phone.’
He made no comment to this, saying instead, ‘You look beautiful tonight, but then you always do.’
Miriam knew she wasn’t beautiful. She wouldn’t break any mirrors but she had the sort of innocent, soft looks that maiden aunts called sweet and other women dismissed as no competition. Her mother’s pet name for her as a child had been ‘little dove’, which said a lot really. What wasn’t so obvious was that the temper that went with the red in her chestnut hair was there but hidden under layers of gentle friendliness. It rarely came into play but when it did it was fiery.
Aiming to keep the conversation as impersonal as possible, she said crisply, ‘If you’re wondering whether I intend to claim for anything, I’m not.’
Jay’s eyes became gold slits. ‘I’m sorry?’
‘In the divorce settlement. I don’t want anything. It’s all yours anyway—the house, the cars, everything.’
There was a long pause. When Miriam nerved herself to look at him she saw his face was grim. ‘Who’s talking about divorce?’
‘We are, surely.’
‘You might be. I’m not.’
‘But—’
‘Have you instructed anyone at the practice?’
‘Of course not. I’d discuss it with you first rather than you just having the papers arrive in the post,’ Miriam said with a touch of indignation in her voice.
‘How thoughtful.’ The sarcasm was biting.
Her soft mouth tightened. ‘But it’s clearly the next step.’
‘It might be clear to you but that’s as far as it goes, Miriam. For the record, when I stood at the altar I meant what I said. Till death and so on.’
If he carried on like this the death part might come quicker than he expected. Her anger rising, Miriam snapped, ‘And I didn’t? Is that what you’re insinuating?’
‘You’re the one wanting a divorce.’
‘And you’re the one who slept with your secretary.’
Surprisingly, her lack of control seemed to restore his equilibrium. Leaning back in the seat again and slipping an arm along at the back of her, he said lazily, ‘Don’t shout, it makes you sound like a fishwife.’
Smouldering, she glared at him. ‘I hate you.’
‘Now you merely sound childish.’
Miriam had never been prone to any kind of physical violence but her fingers itched to wipe the mocking smile off his face. Instead she contented herself with moving as close to the edge of the seat as she could and keeping her eyes on the bright lights flashing by outside.
‘Are you sulking?’ Jay asked interestedly after a while.
‘Isn’t that what children do?’ she bit back without looking at him, knowing her cheeks were burning and furious with herself for letting him get under her skin.
There was silence for a moment. ‘You look lovely when you’re angry,’ he said, deadpan.
Suddenly—worryingly—she wanted to smile and she knew she couldn’t. She was being subjected to the Carter charm and she knew from past history it was lethal. He could turn it on and off like a tap to get his own way. Forcing a calmness she didn’t feel, Miriam said carefully, ‘Jay, if this evening isn’t going to be a complete disaster I suggest we keep things on a businesslike footing, OK?’
When she glanced at him there was a twist to the stern, sexy mouth that suggested he was amused. It ought to have made her more angry but it only served to remind her how much she still fancied him.
‘You’re my wife, Miriam. Not a business colleague.’
Fair