Читать книгу The Friendship Barrier - Пенни Джордан, Penny Jordan - Страница 5

‘STEPH, you’re late. It’s gone seven. You’re normally back by six. What happened?’ Annette asked roguishly. ‘Did that gorgeous boss of yours want you to work late?’

‘Can’t stop to chat now,’ Stephanie apologised to her flatmate as she hurried through the small sitting room. ‘Jake’s picking me up in half an hour.’

‘Jake?’ Annette’s eyebrows lifted. ‘Do you call him that at work? Catch me daring to call my boss anything other than Mr James.’

Stephanie was too used to Annette’s curiosity about her relationship with Jake to make any comment. Initially, when she arrived in London, she had lived alone, but after… but Jake had suggested when she started appearing heavy-eyed and exhausted in the office after her nightmare broken nights that she get a flatmate.

Annette was pleasant enough in her way; a secretary like herself, working for the chairman of a large insurance company. She had a fiancé who was in the army and whom she saw at irregular intervals. Yes, Annette would have been the ideal flatmate if it wasn’t for her constant curiosity about Jake.

‘Where’s he taking you tonight, then?’

Sighing, as she stripped off her neat office suit and blouse, Stephanie responded through her half-closed bedroom door, ‘The première of the new Blaize Dartford film.’

‘Wow! That should be really something. The love scenes are supposed to be…’

Almost automatically, Stephanie shut her ears against the end of Annette’s comment, dismayed but not surprised to see that her hands were shaking as she finished undressing.

In their small bathroom she showered quickly, automatically avoiding any confrontation with her own naked reflection. Back in her room, she opened her wardrobe and selected the cocktail suit she planned to wear for the evening. The matt black fabric with the velvet detailed embroidery on it was the perfect foil for her pale skin. Her hair cascaded past her shoulders in deep rich chestnut waves. For work she always wore it in a neat coil. Her wardrobe held few clothes but what there was was good. Working as Jake’s secretary-cum-personal assistant, she felt she owed it to him to dress the part. As the senior partner in a very prestigious London firm of estate agents, he came in daily contact with the wealthy, and, as Stephanie had soon learned, looks and appearance did count. During the two years she had worked for him she had cultivated an air of cool remoteness which put off those male clients who were, initially, too familiar. She was well aware of the nickname they had given her in the outer office. The ‘Ice Maiden’ they called her, but she didn’t care. They were not to know that she had deliberately chosen to encase herself in an unthawable protective shell. Only Jake knew that, and why. Jake… She glanced at her watch. Twenty-past seven, and Jake was always on time.

Her suit looked dressy, and yet formal, her long slim legs encased in pale tights, the delicacy of her ankle bones enhanced by the slender-heeled shoes she was wearing.

Deftly applying her make-up, she stood back critically to study her handiwork. Her eyes were a deep rich hazel that sometimes turned emerald, her face a delicate oval with high cheek bones and a small straight nose.

It was too late to do anything with her hair other than let it curl loosely on to her shoulders. Perfume was something Stephanie never wore, just as she never applied more than a bare trace of soft, pink lipstick to the ripely full curves of her mouth.

‘Umm. I wish I was tall and leggy,’ Annette complained when Stephanie emerged into their sitting room. ‘What is it with you and Jake?’ she enquired curiously. ‘You work for him, he takes you out, you seem very close, and yet he dates other women… glamorous ones, too.’

‘Jake is my friend and my employer,’ Stephanie cut in sharply. As always, when Annette questioned her like this, she could feel the self-defensive antennae prickling warningly. It was true though. Jake was her friend, and her employer… and so much more that could never be said… she was tied to him with bonds that no one who had not shared her experience could understand. Jake knew more about her than another living soul. He had been there when… He had been the one who had helped her to build up her life again. He knew and understood…

‘And not your lover…?’ the disbelieving comment penetrated Stephanie’s thoughts.

‘No… not my lover.’ She made the denial instinctively, her whole body registering a cold shudder she couldn’t hide.

Annette frowned. ‘Steph, what’s the matter? You obviously like him, you must do, and he’s one hell of an attractive man. You wouldn’t see me turning him down, and yet when I suggest there might be something physical about your relationship, you look as sick as though I’d suggested something obscene.’

The abrupt buzz of the door bell saved her from the need to respond. Even though she knew it would be Jake, Stephanie kept the chain hooked on the door as she eased it open until she could see his tall, dinner-suited figure.

‘Ready?’

As she opened the door, Jake stepped to one side to let her precede him. He was the only man of her acquaintance who understood her need to keep a physical distance between them, but then of course Jake knew the reason why. Was it really only two years since they had first met?

She had gone to his office to be interviewed for the position of his secretary and they had hit it off straight away. She had been quite new to London then. An orphan who had been brought up by elderly grandparents, she had been on her own since she was seventeen, and, because of that, at twenty-one she had developed a poise and self-confidence that made her seem older.

Jake had been thirty then, a tall, dark man, who was pleasant on the surface but to whom she suspected there were uncharted and potentially dangerous depths, a man who always kept something of himself back, and she had liked that reticence, just as she had liked the way his cool, grey eyes had acknowledged her physical attractiveness and then dismissed it as he interviewed and assessed her on her qualifications and mental qualities alone.

They had worked well together that first month, each allowing the other to preserve a certain distance. Stephanie had learned quite early in life that she was attractive to the male sex, and she had also learned the price she was supposed to pay for being attractive. She had lost count of the number of men who had propositioned her and been in turn angry and contemptuous when she had turned them down. They seemed to expect, because she was a reasonably pretty girl, that she would gladly pay for their compliments and admiration by sharing their beds. Perhaps, because of the slightly old-fashioned atmosphere in which she had been brought up, Stephanie had a different set of values. Marriage, or even finding the right man wasn’t particularly to the forefront of her mind. She had a good job which she enjoyed and Jake had told her that it would involve a certain amount of foreign travel, especially to Florida where his firm was involved in certain timesharing holiday schemes, and she was quite happy where she was. Although she got on well enough with the other girls in the office, she didn’t have any intimate female friends. Her position as Jake’s secretary and PA meant that she was much higher up in the office hierarchy than the other secretaries, who tended to treat her rather cautiously. This she didn’t mind. She had learned to cope with loneliness as a child, and had grown to almost prefer a certain amount of solitude. For instance, then she would never have dreamed of sharing her flat with anyone… but all that had changed, and now there were nights when she woke up in fevered sweats, longing to scream out but knowing she could not. Nights when the knowledge that Annette was only on the other side of a thin partition wall was the only thing that kept her sane.

Sane… As Jake opened the passenger door of his XJ6, she repressed a bitter grimace. At first, she had pleaded with Jake to set her free from their contract. She couldn’t work for him any more, she had told him, but he had refused. He had endured her tears and her depressions… almost her hatred at times, and they had both emerged with a different view of one another. Their friendship was perhaps the most important single thing in her life, Stephanie admitted. She loved her job, but she could always find another one, she could never find another friend like Jake.

And yet there were areas of Jake’s life that were closed to her. Closed to her because that was the way she wanted it. She knew he had other women friends… women who, unlike her, did share his bed. Jake had never made any secret of the fact that he was a fully functioning sexual being—unlike her.

She knew that he had once been engaged. He had told her that during one of her bad times, sharing with her the grief he had felt when his fiancée had been killed in a car accident. He had been very young at the time, barely twenty-three, and, as far as she knew, he now had no plans to marry. Why should he? He owned a lovely old Manor House in the Cotswolds; a superb London flat; and was a frequent visitor at the best hotels in Florida. He enjoyed the freedom of his bachelor life. But, if he did marry… She shuddered, not wanting to think about such a possibility.

‘Something wrong?’

As always, he was acutely perceptive to her mood. At work they never touched on personal subjects, but now they weren’t at the office.

‘Nothing.’

‘Umm… Not very communicative tonight, are you?’ He sounded more amused than annoyed, and, as always, Stephanie was aware of how much self-control he had. As she stared out of the car window the disturbing thought came to her that Jake would never allow anyone to see something of himself that he did not want them to, and that included her. She knew from the office gossip and from what she read in the papers that Jake dated several very beautiful women; women who were known to be choosy, not just about the wealth and looks of their lovers, but also about their sexual prowess, and yet, when he was with her, Jake projected an image so totally devoid of any sexual connotation that she found it hard to imagine that other side of him.

But it did exist… She shivered, not realising that Jake had noticed until he frowned. ‘Cold? I’ll turn the booster on. Autumn seems to have come early this year.’

It was only September, but it had been a particularly good summer. Even Stephanie’s fair skin had tanned, although, unlike the other girls in the office, her tan only extended as far as her arms and legs. The flat did possess a small private garden, but not even there had she been able to bring herself to put on even a swimsuit. She knew that her reluctance in that direction had caused raised eyebrows the last time she had gone with Jake to Florida. The wives of his business associates had hardly been able to believe that she didn’t want to take advantage of their hot sun. As always, Jake had been the one to come to her rescue.

‘Stephanie burns easily,’ he had said casually, and the matter had been dropped. Only they knew the reason she was so reluctant to expose any more of her body in public than she needed to. Physical pain, and even terror, could fade in time, but mental shame, that was something that never died. Jake had initially suggested a psychiatrist, but she had been so vehemently opposed to his suggestion that he had let it drop. What could talking to someone else tell her that she didn’t know already? That she had nothing to feel ashamed about? That she wasn’t to blame? That she wasn’t the only person to be sexually attacked? Quite unconsciously, she gave a small moan. Jake braked, and, despite the darkness of the car, Stephanie was conscious of him turning towards her.

‘Are you all right?’

‘Fine…’ Her voice was rawly husky, and she knew he had picked up on the hesitancy in it.

‘This wouldn’t be a ploy to get out of this première, would it?’ As always, he sounded lazily amused rather than annoyed… ‘You know that James Tavener expects us to be there.’

James Tavener was one of their wealthiest clients. He had engaged Jake’s firm to help him find a London apartment, and the American film producer had also invited Jake and herself to be his guests at tonight’s première.

‘Of course not. I’m quite looking forward to it.’

In the darkness of the car, she felt Jake tense, and wondered what on earth she had done to prompt such a reaction. The last time he had tensed like that had been… she frowned, remembering the incident. It had been when she had been reaching into a tall filing cabinet and had almost lost her balance. Jake had reached out to steady her, and she had gripped his arm instinctively, until, quite suddenly, the warm male smell of him and the physical reality of his masculinity had overwhelmed her in drowning waves of panic, and she had recoiled from him, shiveringly. But that had been six months ago, and Jake had been careful not to touch her since. She hadn’t needed to explain to him as she might have done to someone else. Jake knew exactly how she felt and why…

‘Have you read the advance press releases?’

‘No.’

‘Umm…’

They had to park some little distance away from the cinema. Jake, courteous as always, walked alongside her on the outer edge of the pavement. London was quite busy, and there were other première-goers heading in the same direction as them. A gang of youths walking towards them accidentally jostled Stephanie on the crowded pavement. A sensation not unlike that she had experienced when first learning to swim overtook her. She felt as though she were gasping for breath, fighting to stay alive, as waves of panic seized her, and then Jake’s voice, even and calm, subdued the waves, and the nightmare was gone.

‘All right?’ His voice sounded faintly tight as he looked into her pale face.

‘Fine,’ she lied. ‘Where are we meeting the Taveners?’

‘We’re to go straight up to their box. There’s going to be a VIP line-up which James will be part of. Apparently, we can go in this way,’ he added, indicating a small back door to the theatre.

Having shown the pass James Tavener had given him, they were shown up to a sumptuous box, with an excellent vew of the screen. Half an hour later they were joined by their hosts. The curtain went up.

‘Watch this boy,’ James Tavener instructed them, ‘he’s going places. He’s going to make Gere look very much yesterday’s man. We had a tussle getting some of the scenes past the censor… nothing smutty or vulgar in them—but…’

‘But they make your toes curl up and your insides melt,’ Livy Tavener laughed, smiling across at Stephanie. ‘At least, they do mine, for all that he’s at least twenty years my junior…’

The Taveners were laughing. Jake was smiling that cool, imperturbable smile he used whenever he didn’t want anyone to know what he was feeling, and Stephanie tried to smile in response, only her mouth felt stiff, refusing to respond to the commands of her brain. Fortunately, the lights had gone down, so no one else could see her expression, but Jake… As she forced herself to concentrate on the screen, Stephanie wondered if he had known the content of the film beforehand.

What on earth was the matter with her? Sex scenes were common nowadays; she could hardly switch on the television without seeing someone parading about in the nude. But she could always switch the television set off again, whereas here… She realised that James Tavener was talking to her and tried to concentrate.

‘We had a lot of problems with the rape scene…’ he told her. ‘I mean we wanted something realistic, but only to get across the girl’s anguish, so that the audience could appreciate what comes later with Blaize. You see, this girl avoids all contact with men, and then she meets this guy, and…’

‘Let her watch it for herself, James,’ Livy Tavener interrupted. ‘Honestly, this film’s his baby, and he’s crazy about it,’ she told Stephanie. ‘He’s hoping it will get an “Oscar”. It certainly deserves one. Laura Howard and Blaize play their parts so realistically. The emotion between them almost reaches out to enfold you…’

Stephanie tried to stand up. She had to get away. She couldn’t sit here and watch this film. Panic dashed over her in waves, her body alternately hot and then cold. Dimly, she was aware of Jake’s fingers curling round her wrist, lean and firm, imparting a steadying warmth to her frozen skin.

‘Sit down…’ The quiet command helped to steady her.

‘Jake, I can’t watch this…’ she pleaded huskily, ‘You know…’

‘Yes, I know,’ he broke in softly, ‘but you can’t keep on running for ever, Steph. Some time, you’re going to have to stop and turn round and confront your fears. Tonight might be as good a time as any.’

‘You brought me here deliberately,’ she whispered agonisedly. ‘You knew…’

‘Yes, I knew,’ he agreed emotionlessly. ‘Now sit down again unless you want the Taveners to get curious. I’m sure James would be thrilled to discover that he’s got the best critic of Laura Howard’s performance he could ever have sitting right next to him.’

Stephanie drew in a sharply painful breath at the cruelty of his comment. Never once before had Jake exhibited anything other than patience and consideration. Not since that night when he had taken her home to his flat, when he had washed her lacerated skin and talked to her in that soft comforting voice that had calmed her panic and fears, coaxing her to give him all the details of her attack, had he talked about what had happened to her. Oh, he had tried on several occasions, less frequently now, because on each occasion she had shied away from the subject, reacting with such emotional pain and distress that he had let it drop.

‘Jake, please, I can’t sit here and watch this…’ she pleaded in anguish. ‘Please…’

‘Stephanie, it’s been close on two years,’ he said quietly, ‘and it’s not getting any better If anything, it’s getting worse.’

‘No!’

‘No? Then tell me how many men you’ve dated in the last two years, and how many of them have you allowed to kiss or touch you? I can tell you how many,’ he said quietly when she sat frozen, unable to respond, ‘None. Don’t you think I know, Steph? I’ve only got to watch the way you recoil from me if I so much as brush against you accidentally. I practically have to chart a course across my office so that I keep out of your prescribed boundaries. Look, I know what happened to you…’

‘Nothing happened to me,’ she bit out the words sharply. On her lap her hands were folded into small fists, her nails biting into her palms. That Jake of all people should turn on her like this, and so unexpectedly. She couldn’t believe it. She couldn’t endure the pain ripping through her, pain like none she had ever known.

‘You were almost raped,’ Jake reminded her, ‘violated in the most brutal and unforgivable way by a gang of youths who had deliberately lain in wait for you, and attacked you and you would have been raped if I hadn’t happened to hear you scream.’ He broke off when she covered her ears, her voice strained and almost unrecognisable as her tortured throat managed to admit a husky, ‘No… no, you promised we would never have to talk about it… Jake…’

‘Hey you two, aren’t you interested in the film?’ James Tavener’s voice interrupted them, and Stephanie sank back into her seat, refusing to turn her face in Jake’s direction, her whole body trembling with reaction. Even now, she couldn’t believe what had happened. That Jake… She tried to keep her attention on the screen, but in her emotional state that was even worse. With morbid fascination, she watched Laura Howard enact what was almost a replay of what had happened to her, only her attackers had been a group of youths who caught the same bus home as her at night. Most evenings, they made comments as they waited for the bus, called out remarks, and generally tormented Stephanie with their presence, which was always faintly sexually threatening. And then, one night, she had worked late, and when she had emerged into the alleyway at the back of the office, they had been waiting for her. It had been December, and bitterly cold. She had been wearing boots and a thick coat which, she thought later, had helped to save her. How they had found out where she worked, she had never discovered, although Jake suspected that they must have followed her.

She had barely had time to do anything more than scream once before they attacked her. Even now, she had nightmares about those moments before Jake had arrived, alerted by her single scream. If he hadn’t been on the way downstairs… if she hadn’t screamed right at that moment… Their hands had seemed to be everywhere, tearing at her clothes, their obscene words and laughter almost as bad as their physical violation.

Jake’s unexpected appearance had given him an advantage over them, and he had soon dispersed them, but not before Stephanie had been almost stunned by a vicious slap across her face, her blouse and bra ripped in huge rents which revealed her breasts, long vicious weals along her arm where she had fought to prevent them pulling off her coat. But the worst of it had been her own memories vividly replayed over and over again as Jake bundled her into his car and drove her to his apartment. She had been almost incoherent with shock and fright, retreating like a terrified animal when he tried to come near her. In the end she had fainted through sheer terror, unable to recognise friend from foe, only knowing that the hands that touched her were male and that the scent reaching her nostrils was masculine and therefore to be feared.

When she came round, she was in Jake’s bathroom. She had never been in his apartment before and was in no condition to appreciate the masculine decor of marble and gold, and she had shuddered convulsively away from the touch of Jake’s fingers, only to discover that he had removed her torn clothes and she was wearing only her bra and panties.

‘Stephanie, you’re quite safe. I just want to clean those cuts. Then I’m going to give you a glass of brandy, and put you to bed in my spare bedroom. If you like, I’ll call a doctor for you… and tomorrow we can call the police.’

‘No… No police,’ she had made the plea in abject terror. There had been so much adverse publicity about the police’s handling of rape cases that she felt she couldn’t endure the humiliation she had read of other women’s suffering.

‘Stephanie…’

‘No… please…’

In the end, he had given way, and she had remained in his flat not for one night but for three, terrified by every single alien sound, her nervous system totally destroyed. Jake stayed with her, and on the third day he had made her talk; had made her re-live the trauma of her attack. She had cried and protested, hating him for what he was doing to her, and he had held her in his arms, soothing her, stroking her like a child… Stephanie frowned. This was the first time she had allowed herself to think back to the time of her attack, and she had forgotten that Jake had held her and touched her, and that she had welcomed his touch. Because it had been paternal, she told herself, because she had been so distraught that she had needed the comfort of physical contact more than she feared it.

Gradually she had recovered, or at least outwardly she had seemed to do so. Only she and Jake knew that, inwardly… inwardly she would never recover. When she dreamed, it was of hard male hands tearing at her clothes, her screams of panic suppressed until she felt she was suffocating on them. Only with Jake did she feel safe and that was because she knew he had no sexual interest in her whatsoever. Jake knew and understood about what had happened to her, but not even Jake knew about the guilt buried deep inside her soul; the hateful, destructive feeling that whispered treacherously that somehow she had been to blame; that somehow she had given them the impression that… that what? That she had wanted to be raped? She shuddered sickly. Ever since she had taken care that no one could ever accuse her of encouraging any man, however tenuously.

She knew that Annette was curious about her relationship with Jake, who she admitted she found sexually attractive. Stephanie also knew that Annette did not believe her when she said their relationship was strictly platonic, but she was immune to any sensation of physical attraction now. The thought of any man touching her made her feel acutely ill.

‘Now… just watch this scene…’

Stephanie came to at the sound of James Tavener’s voice to realise the film had progressed considerably. Her body froze as she realised that this was the ‘sex scene’ James had been discussing earlier. She didn’t want to watch, but her eyes seemed to be riveted to the screen against her will. Blaize Dartford was as dark as Jake and a similar age, his eyes blue where Jake’s were grey. Even his voice seemed to have the same husky timbre, and it seemed to Stephanie in her highly charged emotional state that it was Jake up there on the screen, that it was his hands, and mouth, his body that made slow and deliberately sensuous love to the girl on the bed with him. Stephanie wanted to deny the illusion, but it wouldn’t be denied, and her body burned hot and cold as she tried to shut out the images on the screen. Laura Howard had researched her part well, and no one watching could not be convinced of her anguish and uncertainty, although, unlike her, Laura wanted to make love, Stephanie thought. Laura wanted to overcome her fears, whereas she was revolted and terrified about the thought of physical intimacy with anyone. At last, she managed to close her eyes and blot out the final few moments of the film.

The Taveners insisted on them joining them for supper and, while they waited for their meal to be served, James turned to Jake and asked with a grin, ‘I’ll bet there wasn’t a woman in the cinema tonight who wasn’t mentally imagining herself in Laura’s place…’

‘Well, Stephanie,’ Jake challenged, ‘Do you agree with that statement?’

What could she say? To agree meant agreeing that she had wanted to be Laura; that she had wanted to be made love to… not by Blaize, but by Jake, because it was his face she had seen on the screen, his hands she had witnessed caressing the soft, female flesh of his partner…

‘Stephanie’s probably one of the few women at the première tonight who wasn’t bowled over by Blaize,’ Livy Tavener interrupted with a grin in Stephanie’s direction. ‘If anything, Jake’s even more attractive.’

‘Why, I thank you, ma’am…’ Jake drawled, not in the least embarrassed.

‘Jake and I are friends… nothing more,’ Stephanie put in hurriedly, her face scarlet with embarrassment as she read the speculation in James Tavener’s eyes. ‘Isn’t that so, Jake…?’

‘I never contradict a lady,’ Jake drawled. He was watching her with hard grey eyes, and it came to Stephanie with a shock that he had never looked at her like that before—almost as though he actively disliked her. A gulf seemed to yawn open at her feet, ground which she had thought of as safe and familiar suddenly very treacherous. What had happened between them? Why had Jake chosen tonight to bring up the past? Intuitively she knew it was not simply because of the similarity between her own attack and the film, and then she remembered Jake asking her if she had read the advance press releases. He must have known she had not because, if she had, she would never have agreed to attend, and yet he obviously had known what to expect and he had not warned her. What was she to read into that? Was he tired of their friendship? Tired of her emotional dependence on him, her need to use him as a barrier behind which she hid from all other men? Suddenly, she was desperately afraid; afraid of being alone… of losing Jake’s friendship, and most of all of the cold condemnation she had read in his eyes.