THEY had been driving for just over an hour when suddenly Matt pulled off the motorway and on to a quiet side-road.
When he drove into a small village and parked the car outside an ivy-wreathed hotel, Nicola looked at him in surprise.
‘You didn’t drink your coffee,’ he told her. ‘When we arrive at the conference, we’ll be going straight into a working lunch. You won’t even have time to find your room, never mind unpack. The first opportunity you’ll get to relax, if you’re lucky, will be when you go to bed tonight, and by then your head will be so full of facts and information that you won’t be able to sleep.’
‘You’ve got a pocket memo-recorder with you, haven’t you? You’ll find it helpful as an aide mémoire—much easier than making written notes.’
He opened his car door and got out, coming round to open her door for her. Automatically Nicola got out, scrupulously avoiding allowing their bodies to touch. A small shudder convulsed her as she misjudged her timing a little so that as he leaned forward to close the car door his hand just brushed her arm.
‘Cold?’
The frowning question made her stomach muscles clench. She shook her head, still bemused by the fact that he had noticed that she had left her coffee. He couldn’t surely have stopped just because of that...?
Silently she followed him into the hotel. A receptionist directed them to the coffee-lounge, which was already pleasantly busy.
A waitress found them a table by one of the windows, overlooking the street.
When the coffee came it had obviously just been freshly made. Its rich aroma made her mouth water, and suddenly, although not even ten seconds beforehand she would have sworn that a drink was the last thing she wanted, she discovered that she was longing for the richly fragrant brew.
‘Feel better now?’
She looked up from the cup to discover that Matt was watching her, his own coffee barely touched. Immediately she flushed.
‘And if it’s Tim you’re concerned about, I don’t think he’s done any lasting damage.’
Her flush deepened, as Nicola acknowledged herself how little thought she had actually given to Tim or what had happened to him. She was becoming far too self-obsessed, she told herself angrily.
Matt, she noticed, still hadn’t drunk his coffee, although he was insisting on her having a second cup. It wasn’t until she was halfway through that it occurred to her that he really must have made this stop specifically for her benefit.
Her heart jumped fiercely inside her chest, her lungs contracting as she fought to breathe in. Nonsense, she was being ridiculous. Why on earth should it matter to Matt whether or not she had a cup of coffee?
And yet, by the time they eventually left the hotel, he still had barely drunk any of his and, even though he had brought up several points concerning the conference while she was drinking hers, they were things he could have mentioned equally easily while he was driving.
What was the matter with her? she derided herself scornfully as they walked back to the car. Was she really being stupid enough to try to convince herself that she mattered to Matt on some personal level?
How could she? She was simply one of his employees, that was all.
They had reached the car now and, without thinking, she moved towards the door, at the same time as Matt reached out to open it for her.
Just for a moment she felt the hard pressure of his arm against her body, a sensation of shock combined with sharply painful desire stabbing through her.
She was, she discovered as she moved away from him, trembling. When she got into the car and inadvertently caught sight of her own reflection in the wing-mirror, she saw with sick despair that her eyes were huge and dark, her face far too pale. Her mouth trembled as she turned her head away from Matt, defensively letting her hair swing forward to conceal her expression from him.
She was glad when he asked her if she would mind if he played some music, relieved not to have to endure the trauma of trying to make businesslike conversation with him. Quite deliberately she kept her face averted, forcing herself to pretend an interest in the dull expanse of motorway landscape beyond the passenger window which she did not feel, and yet every so often her control broke and, without realising what she was doing, she found that she had turned her head and was watching Matt, focusing almost avidly on his face...his body...just the way his hands held the steering-wheel, and that every time she did so she was filled with such an intensity of emotion and arousal, felt so sensitive to his presence, that it was almost like being without a protective layer of skin, almost as though she had already felt his touch on every part of her body and was responding to it.
By the time they reached the conference hotel she was praying that the weekend would be just as busy as Matt had warned her it was likely to be, so that hopefully it would be impossible for her to do anything other than to concentrate on what was going on.
The intimacy of the car journey had weakened her both physically and emotionally to the point where when she eventually got out of the car she barely had the strength left to stand up.
Intent only on trying to control what she was feeling, she was totally unaware of Matt coming towards her until she felt his arm round her.
‘Are you sure you’re OK?’ he asked her in a low voice.
Hideously conscious of how much she was trembling, not daring to look up at him in case he read the truth in her eyes, Nicola somehow managed to nod her head and mumbled untruthfully, ‘It’s just a bit of travel sickness. I’ll be fine in a moment.’
She could see that Matt was frowning as he looked at her, and her heart sank. What on earth must he be thinking? No doubt regretting that he had ever suggested she attended this conference. She was hardly presenting an image of businesslike efficiency, was she?
Her fears were confirmed when Matt hesitated and said quietly, ‘Look if you’re not feeling well—’
‘I’ll be fine, honestly,’ she assured him, starting to walk towards the hotel’s main entrance, praying that she would find the resolve from somewhere to put her own personal feelings under control and to remember why she was here.
The foyer of the hotel was thronged with people attending the conference, the heat and noise which struck her as she walked in making Nicola blink and stand back a little. She had forgotten, working in her country environment, just how overwhelming and intimidating large crowds could be.
As she hesitated, she felt Matt’s hand on her arm, his presence behind her, reassuring her at the same time as it scalded her with the heat of her own physical response to him.
‘Wait here,’ he instructed her. ‘I’ll check us in and collect our room keys, and then we’d better head straight for the conference hall.’
She ought to have been the one doing that, Nicola acknowledged as she watched Matt stride over to the desk. It was almost like watching the Red Sea part, seeing the way the swarming crowd seemed to part as though by magic to let him through.
And, once he had reached the desk, busy though it was, a receptionist miraculously appeared to deal with him.
Watching the way the receptionist smiled up at him, Nicola felt her stomach knot with jealousy.
She turned her head away, telling herself that her behaviour was ridiculous, wishing with all her heart that things had not gone wrong and that she was here with Tim and not with Matt. There was, she was discovering, far more bitterness than sweetness in being with him, far more pain than pleasure.
‘Your key...’
She saw Matt making his way back to her, and took the key he gave her. Behind her someone in the crowd jostled her, throwing her off balance a little. She stepped forward automatically, closing the small space between Matt and herself, tensing as she felt him reach out to steady her, his fingers closing round her upper arm, the warmth of his breath burning her skin. She saw that he was frowning as he looked beyond her.
‘This place is a madhouse. Let’s head for the conference room.’ He looked at his watch, his hand still holding her. ‘It’s time we were there anyway.’
As they started to make their way through the crowd, Nicola expected Matt to release her, but he didn’t, and she was burningly conscious of his hand on her arm, his presence at her side as he guided her across the crowded foyer.
As they approached the conference area proper, they were stopped and handed folders of information and name-tags, before proceeding into the large room, where waitresses were beginning to serve a buffet lunch.
Almost as soon as they were inside the room, Matt was hailed by another man. Expecting him to release her, Nicola started to move away from him, but to her astonishment he didn’t let her go.
‘This is Nicola Linton, one of my staff,’ he introduced her to the other man, who was apparently a civil engineer.
Very quickly the two men were deep in conversation, but Nicola noticed that Matt was courteously insistent on including her in their discussion, which was mainly about how the new emphasis on environmental issues was going to affect the future of the civil engineering industry.
After that it seemed to Nicola that she barely had time to draw breath, so frantic and busy did the pace become, as Matt had predicted.
It was just gone six o’clock when the final meeting of the day eventually broke up and they were free to seek out their rooms.
‘Dinner tonight will be a fairly formal affair,’ Matt warned her as they waited for the lift to take them to their rooms. ‘I suggest we meet in the cocktail bar beforehand, say at about seven-thirty?’
Tiredly Nicola nodded her head.
There were a hundred notes she wanted to make, a hundred things she had learnt that had relevance to her own work...things she was sure she would never be able to remember if she didn’t make a note of them; and it would probably take her half an hour to shower and get changed ready for dinner.
In addition to that, the air-conditioned atmosphere of the conference centre had made her long for some proper fresh air. What she really needed was a good long walk, she reflected wistfully as the lift came and they got in.
* * *
AN HOUR LATER, when her watch beeped warningly, Nicola switched off the small tape recorder, frowning a little as she did so. If the rest of the conference centre was all hurly-burly and business, then at least her room was a haven of peace and calm. She frowned again as she looked around it. She had been rather surprised by the luxury of the room she had been given. It had obviously been very recently decorated, in soft yellows defined by much deeper blues. From her window she could see out over the grounds, the room itself was furnished with good quality reproduction furniture, and her adjoining bathroom, like the bedroom itself, had quite obviously been refurbished.
She had noticed that, although the lift had been packed, she and Matt had been the only two people getting out on their floor. They were, she suspected, occupying rooms of a far better standard than would normally have been expected of someone attending a working conference. Was this yet another indication of Matt’s generosity and concern for his employees?
She moved away from the window, reluctantly acknowledging that she ought to be getting changed. A small, mirthless smile twisted her lips as she recognised how little she was looking forward to the coming evening. An evening spent in Matt’s company...in the company of the man she loved. Her mouth twisted even more bitterly. In theory, perhaps, a wonderful prospect, but in reality the evening was just another business meeting as far as Matt was concerned, while for her...
She took a deep breath, her eyes blinded by a sudden rush of tears.
For her the evening would be several more hours of trauma and misery, during which she would have to fight to conceal her feelings...her misery... her love...
If only Tim hadn’t had that accident. If only Matt hadn’t had to take his place.
She put away the recorder and went into the bathroom, quickly turning on the shower.
Half an hour later she stood in front of her bedroom mirror studying her reflection. She was wearing the navy dress and, if her face looked a little too pale, well, that would simply bear out her earlier fib that she had been feeling car sick. Provided she managed to avoid allowing Matt to look directly into her eyes, she might just be able to get away with pretending that it was a physical disorder that was making her look so pale.
She had washed her hair and blow-dried it, and now there was nothing left for her to do but to go downstairs to the cocktail bar and meet Matt.
As she locked her bedroom door, she found herself praying that she would get through the evening without saying or doing anything to alert Matt to what was really wrong with her.
It was just after twenty-five to eight when she walked into the crowded cocktail bar. It took her eyes several seconds to adjust to the gloom and her ears even longer to adjust to the noise.
Unaware of the interested glances she was receiving from several groups of men, she stood where she was until she could get her bearings.
When she saw how glamorously some of the other women were dressed, she was glad that her mother had warned her to pack something a little more dressy than her business suits. As she looked around the room she suddenly saw Matt. He was standing several yards away talking to a very tall, very soignée brunette. She was talking earnestly to him and, when she suddenly reached out to place her hand on his arm in emphasis of whatever she was saying, the feeling that pierced Nicola left her feeling sick and dizzy.
She hated what was happening to her, hated what she was feeling, hated the feeling of being totally out of control. The room suddenly seemed oppressively hot, she felt hemmed in, trapped, panic clawed at her. She turned away, blindingly, wanting to escape but, before she could move, she heard Matt saying her name.
She forced herself to turn her head, her lips curving into a meaningless, stiff smile, but, when she looked, Matt was on his own and the brunette seemed to have disappeared.
‘What would you like to drink?’ Matt asked her.
She tried to clear her head, to separate herself from the emotions churning inside her.
‘Mineral water, please,’ she responded tensely.
‘I expect we’ll be sharing a table with some of the other delegates,’ she heard Matt telling her as he gave their order to a waiter. ‘That’s the normal format at these affairs unless you’re in a large enough group to occupy a full table. It’s one way of getting people to mingle. What were your impressions of this afternoon, or is it too soon for you to judge?’
Nicola took a deep breath, thankful to have something on which to focus her attention, something to distract herself from the burden of her awareness of Matt the man, rather than Matt the employer.
Once she started talking about the conference, Matt kept the ball rolling, making several succinct points about what she had learnt, and gradually she felt a little of her tension starting to slip away from her.
If it could just be like this for the rest of the weekend; if she could just force herself to focus on business instead of letting her emotions get the upper hand, she might have some chance of preserving her sanity and concealing the truth from Matt. That would be the final humiliation, if he should guess how she felt.
By the time they went into dinner she was almost beginning to relax a little, although she tensed up again when Matt put his hand beneath her elbow—a polite gesture, and one which she knew had been made to her by any number of men in the past, but none of them had had the effect on her that Matt had. She knew he must have felt the jolt of tension that went through her as he touched her. She saw the way he frowned down at her when she immediately tried to step back from him, and then realised that the crush of people heading for the dining-room made that impossible.
In fact, probably because of her lack of height, she actually discovered she was being carried forwards and almost pushed off her feet.
As she stumbled a little, Matt reached for her, pulling her into the protection of his own body. It was a protective, non-sexual gesture he would no doubt have made to any woman in the same situation, but its effect on Nicola was devastating. She literally went weak at the knees, a deep, wrenching shudder vibrating through her so that she clutched automatically at his arm for support before she realised exactly what she was doing. When she did realise, she tried to draw back, but it was too late. Matt’s free arm was firmly around her, holding her so close to him that she could feel the heat of his body, and the heavy, slightly unsteady thump of his heartbeat.
When she tried to move, Matt said tersely to her, ‘Let’s just wait a few seconds and let the first crush get past us.’
He seemed to be murmuring the words right into her ear, the sensation of his warm breath against that delicate orifice causing such a welter of sensations inside her that she could hardly control her reaction to them. Beneath the fine silk of her dress she felt her breasts swell and lift, her nipples tightening, a corresponding tiny, pulsing ache beginning deep within her body, coupled with an overwhelming desire to let herself relax against him, to press herself even closer to him, to touch her lips to his throat, his jaw, his mouth...
She had to swallow hard on the small, anguished whimper that scaled the back of her throat. Guilt and self-disgust twisted through her stomach. She found she could hardly breathe, and knew that her pulse-rate must be wildly out of control, but she dared not move, could not move until she felt Matt step back from her slightly, relaxing the protecting guard of his arm as he told her,
‘I think we can go in now.’
Not daring to look at him, she fell into step beside him, only half able to concentrate on what he was saying...something about not really understanding the crowd’s eagerness to eat a meal which experience must have warned them would be adequate rather than enticing.
They were the last to arrive at their particular table, and Nicola’s heart sank as she realised that she was the only woman on it.
The other men were obviously all enjoying themselves, to judge by the male laughter coming from the table as they approached it.
Even though she told herself that she was being an idiot, and an old-fashioned one at that, Nicola found that she was glad of Matt’s protective bulk, as he pulled out her chair for her so that she could sit down.
The silence that followed their arrival, as the men turned to look at her, was very unnerving, but nothing prepared her for the shock she received when, as Matt sat down next to her, she heard someone drawling unpleasantly,
‘Well, well, of all the coincidences. So you two are together again, are you? Permanently, or is it just another one-night stand? I seem to recollect that Nicola here excels at those...’
Jonathon...Jonathon Hendry here...and what was more he had recognised both of them! Nicola could hardly believe it. She was conscious of a return of her earlier nausea, combined with an even more intense need to escape—not just from the avid curiosity she could see in all those pairs of male eyes, not even from Jonathon, and his malice, but far, far more important, from Matt himself.
Whenever she had tortured herself with visualising the scene where she had been confronted with the past, she had never imagined anything like this...never dreamed that it would be Jonathon who would denounce her.
She was barely conscious of pushing her chair back and standing up. Matt saying her name was a distant perception, a pin-prick of awareness in a vast sea of drowning humiliation from which she had to escape.
There were still diners straggling into the dining-room. She bumped into several of them in her haste to escape, unaware of the looks of curiosity and concern that followed her unsteady flight.
At the table she had just left Matt stood up, watching her. He was just about to follow her, when Jonathon stood up as well, apologising insincerely.
‘Sorry about that, old man. Didn’t realise I was putting my foot in it.’
He froze as Matt turned his head and looked at him.
‘I’ve never liked you, Hendry. That’s why I ceased doing business with your firm,’ Matt told him levelly. ‘I don’t consider myself to be a violent man, in fact, normally I find physical violence despicable. Don’t tempt me to change my mind, will you?’
The other men at the table were shuffling uncomfortably in their seats. It was quite obvious to them who would be the victor in any kind of combat between them, whether verbal, mental or physical. Matt watched as Jonathon’s face turned puce. He moved swiftly from one foot to the other and started to bluster.
‘It was just a joke, old man... Didn’t mean anything. After all, she hardly kept it a secret that she’d spent the night with you, did she? It was obvious from the state she was in when she came to work the next day what had happened. Must say I was surprised... Quite the little prude, she made herself out to be, and then goes off with you right in the middle of my father’s birthday do! Surprised to see you’re still together, though. After all, a man doesn’t—’
‘I think you’ve said enough,’ Matt interrupted him acidly. Then he added contemptuously, ‘I’m sure you gentlemen will understand if I don’t join you for dinner... I’ve suddenly lost my appetite.’
As he walked away from the table, he was frowning. Nicola was that girl from all those years ago...that tiny, immature little girl who had so carelessly and so dangerously—so desperately, almost—flirted with him and then...
Strolling through the foyer, he remembered how tempted he had been by her even then, how hard he had had to fight to stop himself from mindlessly and dangerously giving in to the desire she had aroused in him, not just for his sake but for hers, too. She had still been a baby, really, for all that atrocious make-up and that wild mass of hair.
He paused, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looked back down the years. She had recognised him, of course, even if he had not recognised her, and to judge from her reaction to Jonathon’s gibe... He looked thoughtfully across the foyer, his frown deepening as he remembered how at the time he had intended to talk to her as though she were one of his younger sisters, to warn her of the danger she was running—but he had been due to leave for the States, and then there had been the complication of the unexpected surge of desire for her.
He turned round and walked back to the reception desk. The girl behind it looked at him a little uncertainly as he made his request, but then, after a moment’s consideration, she handed him what he had asked for.
* * *
UPSTAIRS in her room, Nicola was frantically packing her things into her case, with no clear idea of exactly how she was going to get home, only a burning need to escape from the scene of her appalling humiliation just as quickly as she could.
She hadn’t dared look directly at Matt when Jonathon had made his dénouement, and afterwards she had felt too physically ill to do anything other than give in to her need for flight.
Now as she packed, she was still shaking, shivering, really, like a terrified animal. Why had she not realised that Jonathon might be at the conference? Why had she not known that he would recognise her—both of them?
That way she could have...
What? Refused to attend the conference? She shivered more intensely. She would rather a thousand times that Matt had recognised her himself, no matter how painful that would have been, rather than endure what had just happened, although it wasn’t so much the public humiliation that had panicked her.
It was what Matt must be thinking...knowing now who she actually was...remembering. And he must have remembered. She made a small, anguished sound she didn’t even hear, the sound of an animal caught in a trap.
Well, it was over now. There was no way she could continue working for Matt, no way he would want to have her working for him. Even if she hadn’t made a total fool of herself by rushing out of the dining-room like that, the very fact that she was who she was...
She had no idea what she was going to tell her parents. Her mouth twisted wryly. Probably the truth. She had no resources left to conjure up some suitably convincing fiction, and anyway, she was tired of living a lie...of having to pretend...of daily, almost hourly being terrified that Matt was going to look at her and remember.
She didn’t hear the pass-key turn in the lock, and her first intimation of Matt’s presence was when she turned her head and saw him standing in the door, sombrely watching her.
Immediately she tensed, unable to stop the wave of hot colour that burned over her skin.
‘Good, you’ve almost packed,’ she heard him saying evenly.
She went as white as she had been red, unable to control her reaction to the pain she was suffering.
She had known what would happen, of course...had known that he wouldn’t tolerate any kind of relationship between them now, either personal or professional—but still, to hear him saying it, to see the coldness in his eyes and to hear the remoteness in his voice made Nicola feel physically sick with an anguish she simply could not control.
She hadn’t expected that he would do this, that he would follow her up here to watch while she left...to make sure that she left, she reflected.
When he’d opened the door, she had been in the act of putting the last of her things into her case, and now, as she stood there shivering, he came towards her, closing the door behind him, saying curtly.
‘Is that everything?’
Numbly she nodded, biting down hard on her bottom lip to stop herself from crying.
Somehow or other she managed to deposit what she was holding in the case on the bed, but when she tried to close it she was trembling so much, felt so weak that even that simple task was beyond her.
When Matt pushed her out of the way she flinched physically from him, sick with self-disgust and the horror of what had happened.
She heard him closing the case, snapping the locks tight. When he picked it up off the bed and turned towards her, she watched him numbly, still unable to look into his face.
She could see his hand, lean, hard, the nails cut short, a working hand...a man’s hand...his fingertips slightly rough. She gave a deep wrench—shudder. Once that hand...those hands had touched her...caressed her...known her more intimately than any other male hands ever had or ever would, and yet she had no memory of that intimacy, no awareness of it.
‘If you’re ready...’
Ready? She trembled wildly. Surely...
He was still holding her case and seemed determined to keep on doing so. Did he actually want to physically ensure that she left the hotel? Was that the purpose behind his presence here?
She still couldn’t speak. If she did... She took a deep, gulping breath of air and nodded her head, tensing as he strode past her and opened the door.
She wanted to object, to protest that he had no need to do this, no need to add this further humiliation to what she had already suffered; but she simply could not find the strength to do so.
In the lift she stood as far away from him as she possibly could, and yet still she was acutely aware of him—of his presence...his heat...his maleness...his power.
The hotel foyer was almost deserted. As he headed for the main exit, Matt stopped her, gesturing towards the reception desk as he said curtly.
‘Wait here.’
She had no option since he still had her case. As she watched him hand in her key and say something to the receptionist, she realised that she ought to ask the girl to get her a taxi, but then, perhaps there was a taxi rank somewhere outside. Most hotels did seem to have them these days.
In Bournemouth itself she could get a train—not directly home, perhaps, but to somewhere where she could change lines and then—
As she tried to clear her muddled thoughts to make some effort to pull herself free of the shocked trauma that still gripped her, Matt came back to her.
Even now his good manners didn’t fail him, she noticed miserably as he opened the door for her.
She looked tensely around, hoping to see some sign of a lurking taxi, but Matt was taking hold of her, urging her towards the car park, and it would have taken more physical energy than she possessed to resist him.
It was only when she realised that he was leading her towards his parked car that she stopped, but he seemed not to notice her shock because he walked past her and opened the door, calmly placing her case in the boot.
It was cool outside, and she shivered in her thin silk dress, her body now reacting physically to the shock she had suffered.
‘You’re cold,’ he told her quietly. ‘Get in the car.’
‘Get in the car...?’ Nicola stared at him, her face flooding with colour again. She knew how much he must want to be rid of her, but this was taking things to ridiculous extremes. Surely he didn’t think she might actually want to stay after what had happened? Surely he must realise that, no matter how badly she had behaved in the past, she was an adult now, not a child.
‘There’s no need for this,’ she told him huskily. ‘I can get a taxi. I realise you want me to leave—’
‘We’re both leaving,’ Matt interrupted her curtly. ‘Now please get in the car.’
They were both leaving? Nicola’s guilt increased tenfold. Confronted by Jonathon’s gibe, she had thought only of herself, her own reactions, now she was forced to realise that Jonathon had not only humiliated her, but that he had also humiliated Matt, although in a different way.
Matt wasn’t that casually-dressed, insouciant young man of eight years ago any more. Now he was a respected, astute businessman, whose credibility could suffer untold damage if it became public knowledge that he had attended such an important conference accompanied not so much by a responsible member of his staff, but by a woman with whom he was having some kind of brief sexual fling—which was what Jonathon had been intimating, and what Jonathon would continue to intimate, and enjoy doing so, she recognised as she shivered on the tarmac.
She wasn’t aware of Matt coming towards her until she heard him say warningly, ‘The car, Nicola,’ and realised from the look on his face that if she didn’t do so voluntarily she could quite easily find herself being placed bodily and forcibly in that vehicle.
Shakily she walked away from him and got into the car. If she had thought the drive out here an ordeal, then how on earth was she going to endure the return home?
The only thing she could do, she decided sickly when Matt got in beside her and started the engine, was to turn away from him and pretend she had gone.
That way, at least they would both be spared having to speak to one another. That she owed him an apology she knew, but she had no idea how to frame it, and besides, what good would mere words do? They couldn’t wipe out what had happened.
It showed how Matt felt about the incident that he had actually left the conference because of it. That realisation added to her guilt as she turned away from him and determinedly closed her eyes, barely aware of the soft click of the central locking system being activated as Matt set the car in motion.
No matter how urgently he wanted to talk to her, he couldn’t do so now...not here at the hotel...and certainly not while he was driving.
He glanced at his watch.
It was close to nine o’clock now... Which meant that it would be going on for midnight before they got back. He looked thoughtfully at Nicola’s still form. She was far too tense really to be asleep. As he studied the soft sweep of her hair, so softly silky and sleek, he smiled to himself, remembering the mass of tousled curls, the too bright clothes, the startling make-up... No wonder he hadn’t recognised her—at least, not visually.
His body might have done, though. It had certainly reacted to her with a startling intensity. And his emotions? He tensed a little, remembering how often he had thought about her when he was in America...how quickly he had tried to contact her once he got back. Only she had left then, and according to her former employers she had not left any forwarding address.
He thought he was beginning to understand why. He hadn’t missed the way she had been watching Jonathon, that night, when she’d thought herself unobserved, and he had had enough experience of teenage girls from his own sisters to recognise one in the throes of a bad crush. Initially that had been one of the reasons he had played up to her—because he felt sorry for her, and because he hadn’t particularly liked Jonathon Hendry even then.
Tense with misery, Nicola stared out of the car window, longing for the journey to be over. With any luck her parents would be in bed when she got back, which at least meant that she would not have to make any explanations to them until tomorrow. Tomorrow... She smiled painfully to herself, wishing she were a hundred years away from what was happening to her, and knowing that no matter how much time passed she would never forget the anguish of this evening.