Читать книгу The Eleventh-Hour Groom - Kathryn Ross - Страница 7

ELIZABETH had been the one to propose marriage. So, if she had to apportion blame for the ensuing mayhem, she supposed, in fairness, that she had to shoulder some of the responsibility herself. But only a little…it was mostly his fault, of course. His fault for not loving her, for agreeing to something for all the wrong reasons.

When colleagues asked her how long her marriage had lasted and she answered six months, they always looked at her and shook their heads. ‘Fancied a big white wedding, did you?’

‘No, I just fancied him,’ she would answer wryly. ‘Big mistake.’

All those thoughts rushed through her head every time she opened her office drawer and saw the official looking manila envelope staring up at her from within. She imagined it was glaring at her reproachfully, which was rubbish, of course, how could an envelope be reproachful? Even so, she felt better after she had slammed the drawer shut on it again.

It had arrived by courier almost ten days ago and she had signed for it, thinking it was something to do with work. Only when she had really looked at it had she noticed the Jamaican postmark. Then she had recognised the handwriting.

It was from him and she was scared to open it. Scared because deep down she knew that envelope contained divorce papers.

Elizabeth Hammond, successful career girl, afraid of nothing and nobody…well, with the possible exception of heights and going to the doctor…was now afraid to open an envelope, she mocked herself. She needed to get a grip. She’d take it home tonight, pour herself a glass of wine and open it. Face her demons.

‘Elizabeth, fancy a drink after work?’ Robert asked as he passed her desk.

‘Can’t, Rob, sorry.’ She hardly looked up at him. ‘I’ve got a stack of paperwork to catch up on.’

‘Tomorrow then,’ he said easily.

The phone rang on her desk and she snatched it up, whilst at the same time glancing at her watch. She had an important meeting in ten minutes. ‘Richmond Advertising Agency, Elizabeth Hammond speaking.’ She sang the words breathily. ‘How can I help?’

‘You can help by signing the damn papers I sent you.’ The familiar American tones of her estranged husband drawled wryly.

The busy office suddenly seemed to fade into oblivion. The noise of printers and telephones, people’s voices and the London traffic outside all disappeared as if someone had pushed a mute button. Leaving only her, and Jay’s voice at the end of a line.

‘Elizabeth, don’t you dare hang up on me,’ he warned coolly as she made no reply.

The thought hadn’t occurred to her until he said it, and then she was sorely tempted.

She took a deep breath. ‘I’m busy, Jay,’ she said briskly. She was pleased at how composed she sounded, as if it wasn’t nearly twelve months since they had last spoken, as if his voice meant nothing.

‘Yes, so am I,’ he grated. ‘Why haven’t you signed the papers?’

‘I haven’t read them properly yet.’ It wasn’t entirely a lie, but she imagined she felt heat emanating from the drawer where they lay, untouched, unread.

‘Are you being deliberately awkward?’

‘No!’

‘You could have fooled me,’ he grated impatiently.

‘No one could fool you, Jay.’ She couldn’t resist the dig. ‘You’re infallible, remember?’

There was a silence for a moment and she wished perversely that she hadn’t said that. What was the point in quarrelling? She couldn’t win with Jay, anyway…never had. And maybe he was right, maybe she was being deliberately awkward. She’d known from the moment she’d looked at the envelope that it contained divorce papers, and she had consciously put off opening it. It was wrong of her, she should sign them and get Jay Hammond out of her life, once and for all. After all, they’d been separated for a year, wasn’t it time to move on?

‘Listen, Jay, I—’

He cut across her conciliatory tones. ‘What time do you finish work?’

‘What?’ She frowned. What had that to do with anything? Jay was in Jamaica; she was in London. Was he going to fax her something, she wondered in perplexity. ‘Well…five-thirty—’

‘I’ll pick you up from outside the office. Don’t be late.’

‘Jay, I—’ The dull monotone of a dead line droned in her ear now. He’d put the phone down. Panic zinged through her. It was as if someone had injected an overdose of adrenalin straight into a main artery. Jay was here in London! She felt sick with apprehension. She couldn’t see him. It was more than she could deal with. Maybe she could tell everyone she was sick and go home and hide. Lock the door, take the phone off the hook, run away.

‘You okay, Elizabeth?’ A voice seemed to be coming from a long way away. ‘Elizabeth…wakey, wakey.’ It droned on sarcastically. ‘You’ve got a meeting with the boss in five minutes. Aren’t you up to it?’

She looked up at Colin Watson. He was about thirty-five, tall and not bad-looking if it hadn’t been for the smug expression on his face. Elizabeth really didn’t like him. The guy had been gunning for her job for three months now and he was trying his best to undermine her at every turn. He’d just love her to go home and let him take over the meeting. She could just imagine him talking to their boss. Elizabeth’s got women’s troubles, he would say with a patronising sneer. I’ll take over, John. Leave it all to me. Then we can just discuss it over a game of golf next week. Yes, she knew how Colin Watson operated.

Elizabeth looked at him now and wanted to swear. But Elizabeth Hammond never swore. She went home and took a few herbal relaxing tablets and sweated herself into a lather of work—work that, thankfully, was always a hundred times better than his.

She forced a smile to her lips now. She’d have to be dying before she let chauvinistic Colin get one over on her. ‘I’m just on my way, Colin,’ she said brightly, collecting her work. ‘It’s all in hand.’

The meeting should have lasted an hour, but dragged on for three. Elizabeth’s ideas on the new soap powder advertising campaign were thrashed out as if they were talking about a cure for cancer, though she managed to refrain from looking at her watch until it was all finished. If John had seen her even glancing at the time he’d have thought she was less than one hundred per cent committed. And that was the biggest crime anyone could perpetrate as far as her boss was concerned.

Only when she had packed everything away did she dare look at the time. Nearly five o clock. If she hurried, she could leave early and avoid Jay. She couldn’t see him today. Her head was pounding and she was exhausted. Besides, she should really open that envelope and study the contents before talking to her husband. She’d have to acquaint herself with the terms of their divorce before she could agree to anything.

She zipped up her laptop in its travel case and tucked a few papers and her mobile phone in with it. ‘I’m going to go home, John.’ She tossed the words casually over at him. ‘I want to study these details in the peace and quiet of my own office.’

He nodded. ‘Fine. See you eight-thirty tomorrow. Perhaps you’ll have the draft on the Menda account finished by then?’

Elizabeth recognised the words as a command, not a request. She knew her boss well enough to know he would expect that work on his desk first thing.

‘No problem.’ She smiled at Colin as she swept past him. Despite his numerous attempts to hijack her presentation, it had gone well. She knew that just by looking at the disgruntled expression on his face.

She picked up the manila envelope from her drawer and pushed it into her case with the rest of her work. Tonight, not only had she to read divorce papers, she had to prepare another account. And all she really felt like doing was going to bed and drawing the covers over her head.

Don’t be pathetic, Elizabeth, she told herself angrily. Your marriage was over before it started. Paperwork isn’t going to change anything.

Before leaving the building she visited the cloakroom. Re-applied perfume and lipstick, then studied the pallor of her reflection whilst running a comb through her short dark hair.

So what if her personal life was a disaster area? she told herself briskly. At least she had a successful career.

So why did she feel so heavy-hearted? Why did the envelope in her briefcase seem, metaphorically speaking, to weigh a ton? Maybe it was because it was her thirtieth birthday tomorrow, and thirty did sound so much older than twenty-nine. She was getting old and getting a divorce all at the same time. It was a bit depressing.

She put on her long grey overcoat and lifted up her briefcase. Endings were always painful, she told herself. That was all it was. She didn’t love Jay any more. She’d face the end and then start afresh with someone else, someone who loved her. And she’d look on her thirtieth birthday as a new beginning.

She ran to catch one of the lifts waiting in the corridor, just managing to get in before the doors swished shut. She glanced again at her watch as it descended the six floors to ground level. She was twenty minutes early. She’d avoid Jay, catch the tube and then lock the front door of her apartment. And if he did come round she wouldn’t answer the bell, no matter how many times he pressed it. She’d see him when she was ready, not before.

The doors opened smoothly into the marble and glass foyer. And there he was, standing like a sentinel by the front exit into Oxford Street.

First of all she felt shocked. Then she felt numb as their eyes met. Anger and pain were suspended in a brief moment when she found herself acknowledging how handsome he was. So attractive that she felt her heart go into overdrive, just like it used to do in the days when she’d had a major crush on him.

He had dark hair and was tall, well over six feet, with a broad athletic build, that was somehow accentuated by the dark overcoat he wore over his suit. His tanned skin was in stark contrast to the grey February day. The dark eyes that seemed to pierce into hers made her blanch.

She wondered if she could pretend she hadn’t seen him and step smartly away from him through the side door. Once into Oxford Street she could merge with the crowds. He’d never catch her.

‘Ms Hammond, you have a visitor,’ the receptionist called out, bringing her back to reality. ‘I was just about to phone up to your office.’

‘Okay, thanks.’ Elizabeth smiled wanly at the woman and walked across towards her husband on legs that felt decidedly wobbly.

His gaze seemed to take in everything about her in those few moments. Her smart grey business suit, the silk stockings, the height of her heels, before sweeping back to catch and hold her blue eyes.

‘Hello, Beth,’ he said smoothly.

‘Hi.’

There was silence then, silence when all she could hear was her heart beating in her ears. She wished he wouldn’t look at her like that. As if he could see straight into her soul and know the truth.

You’re nearly thirty, she told herself, trying to get a grip on her emotions. This man should no longer be able to make you feel like a tongue-tied adolescent. You don’t love him any more.

Some other members of staff came out of the lifts behind them.

‘Bye, Elizabeth,’ they chorused as they passed her. ‘See you in the morning.’

‘Yes…bye.’ She glanced over at them, the distraction helping to ease some of the tension inside her. They were secretaries from her office, but they weren’t looking at Elizabeth, they were looking at Jay, open admiration shining from their eyes.

Some things never changed, she thought wryly.

‘Right, well shall we go?’ Jay asked suddenly.

She looked back at him. ‘Go where?’

‘I thought we’d have dinner together, talk in a civilised manner.’

Talk over dinner? Elizabeth wanted to laugh. She felt so self-conscious around him that it was an effort to even breathe, never mind pretend to force food down her throat. ‘What are you doing here, Jay?’

‘You know why I’m here.’

He took hold of her arm and with a polite smile over at the receptionist who was watching them with avid curiosity, steered Elizabeth out through the revolving doors.

The cold blast of the winter day was biting after the central heating in the office. She pulled her coat further around her slender body, and made to turn away from Jay. He wouldn’t release her arm. His grip was so tight that it hurt.

‘Will you let go of me?’ she whispered furiously, her eyes blazing as she looked up at him.

‘We’re going for dinner.’ He steered her towards a car waiting by the kerb on double yellow lines.

‘I’m not going anywhere with you.’

‘Yes, you are.’ He opened the door and stood waiting for her to get into the passenger seat.

‘You’ve got a damn nerve, Jay Hammond, turning up here out of the blue and expecting me to just fall in with your wishes. Let me tell you that I’ve got more important things to be doing.’

‘Yes, I’m sure you have. But I’ve flown halfway around the world to talk to you.’

‘Well that’s your problem. And will you let go of my arm? You’re hurting me.’

‘Sorry.’ He released her immediately and she rubbed her arm, glaring at him reproachfully.

‘Look, I realise that you are a busy woman. I know it’s probably a shock my turning up like this. But I need to talk to you, Beth…it’s urgent.’

She hesitated.

‘So, what do you say?’ he murmured. ‘Will you give me a few hours of your time…please?’

Hell, he wasn’t going to start being nice to her, was he? She could handle his disdain, his arrogance, but she couldn’t hack it if he started to be kind. That led to all sorts of dangerous grey areas.

Her eyes moved over the handsome face. It was hard to tell what he was thinking, his features were impassive.

She sighed. ‘Okay, but I’ve only got an hour. I’ve got work to do.’

‘Thanks.’ He smiled. ‘I appreciate it.’

He held the door for her as she got in. She told herself she was only doing this to avoid a scene. Her work colleagues would be coming out at any moment and she didn’t want them asking her questions tomorrow.

He slammed the door and then came around to join her.

She watched as he fastened his safety belt then checked his mirror before pulling out into the steady stream of traffic.

This was really weird, she thought. If anyone had told her this morning that Jay would pick her up from work she would have looked at them as if they were mad.

‘So…you haven’t really come all this way just to see me…have you?’ she asked cautiously.

He glanced over at her. ‘Yes. I have.’

She wanted to ask why, but she couldn’t. She was too afraid he was going to say the dreaded D word. But of course that had to be the reason. What other one was there? He wanted a divorce.

She noticed the familiar tang of his aftershave. It made a curl of remembrance stir painfully inside her. She squashed it immediately.

‘Where did you get the car?’ she asked, more for something to say than anything else.

‘I rented it.’

‘Where are you staying?’

‘I don’t know. I haven’t booked in anywhere yet.’

She frowned. ‘You mean you’ve just arrived?’

He nodded. ‘Yep. I rang you from the airport.’

‘Oh!’ She wished she could think straight.

She watched as he drove into an underground car park. Watched the reflection of the neon lights as they played over the hard contours of his face.

He parked and then turned to look at her. ‘I’ve booked a table at a restaurant around the corner.’

‘You’ve booked a restaurant but you haven’t booked a hotel?’

He shrugged and grinned. ‘I can think better on a full stomach.’

She stared at him, trying to work this out. But her brain was befuddled with confusing, sidetracking thoughts, like how his smile lit up his eyes, how his lips were firm and yet sensual, how the shape of his face was hard-boned and square, giving him a look of arrogant determination.

Sometimes in her dreams she had imagined seeing him again, had imagined what it might be like. Sometimes she had thought that she would feel nothing and sometimes her body had twisted with an empty kind of longing. Now she didn’t know what her body was telling her, except how wonderful he looked…and that was crazy.

‘Elizabeth.’ His eyes seemed to be resting on her lips. ‘Are you okay?’

‘Of course I’m okay.’ She wrenched her gaze away from him. Picked up her briefcase and opened the car door. ‘I’m hungry,’ she lied. ‘Like you, I can’t think on an empty stomach.’