IN THE morning, over breakfast, Janene made up her mind to leave for the cottage that very day. There was no point in staying here alone with nothing to do. If she went down today she could give the place a good clean and airing, and perhaps do a bit of decorating before Damien arrived.
But first there was the lunch-date with Sally. She wasn’t looking forward to it, but she didn’t like breaking promises. It wasn’t that she had anything against Sally. They’d been the best of friends, as well as being business partners, in the past. But it was the past she was trying to forget, and a meeting with Sally would only resurrect buried memories and guilt.
She tidied the flat, changed from jeans and sweater into her favourite pale cream linen suit, then packed her suitcase. Finally she locked up the flat, then went downstairs and put her suitcase in the boot of her car. Knowing the futility of trying to find a parking space in the West End, she left the car in the mews garage and went in search of a taxi.
The Red Candle Grill and Bar had been a favourite haunt of theirs in the old days, and as her eyes got used to the subdued lighting she saw that the place hadn’t changed much.
Neither had Sally. Still the same restless, youthful energy, although she had to be in her late twenties by now. Still the same mass of tight, black curls, and large, pink-framed glasses. She was wearing a smartly cut business suit in charcoal-grey and at the moment she was somehow managing to look pleased and slightly annoyed at the same time.
‘So what’s the matter?’ she demanded as Janene settled herself opposite. ‘Have I got the plague or something? Four times I phoned last week and four times you said you were busy. We’re old friends, right? Old friends should never be too busy for a chat and a meal together.’
Janene lowered her eyes and murmured, ‘I’m sorry. Things have been a little hectic lately.’
‘Hmm… Busy social life, eh?’
The scepticism in the voice made her wince. She should have known better than to try to fob Sally off with a lie. Sally was too perceptive.
Sally tossed the menu across the table. ‘I’m having the veal.’
‘Then I’ll have the same. I hope it’s as good as it used to be.’
‘It is. Take my word for it.’ Sally beckoned a waiter, gave the order, then settled back in her seat with her martini. ‘Aren’t you going to ask me how the business is doing?’
She smiled. ‘Of course. How are things?’
‘Huh!’ Sally snorted. ‘I wish you hadn’t asked, but since you have I’ll tell you. I’m standing on tiptoes and the water is up to my chin.’ She sighed and shrugged. ‘It’s tough for everyone in this damned recession. I shouldn’t complain. At least I can still afford to eat here.’ She laughed. ‘Do you remember the greasyspoon we used to eat in up in Camden?’
Janene nodded and felt a tug of nostalgia for the old days. Camden, in North London. That was where it had all started…
They’d first met while browsing around the stalls in the street-market, and they’d taken an instant liking to each other. Over coffee and hamburgers in a cafe, they’d bemoaned the limited choice of goods on offer in the market and had decided there and then to go into business for themselves. They’d pooled their capital and opened a stall specialising in unusual costume jewellery and accessories. Within two years they’d owned a string of boutiques across London.
In those days she’d been just as single-minded and aggressive as Sally, and they’d carved their way to success through a hostile world of reluctant bank managers and cut-throat competitors.
In her case, at least, the real reward hadn’t been the money but the feeling of independence and accomplishment. Much to the consternation of her staid and rather old-fashioned parents, she’d always rebelled against the idea that it was a man’s world, and a woman’s role was to settle down and be a good little housewife.
They had been pleased about her success, of course, but she had sensed their underlying disappointment. They had wanted grandchildren, but their only child was more interested in a career than motherhood. She hadn’t even had a boyfriend—at least none she cared to date on a regular basis.
It had been guilt just as much as a spirit of generosity that had prompted her to treat them to a month’s holiday in Florida, all expenses paid. And it had probably been a wish not to hurt her feelings that had made them accept.
She’d driven them to Heathrow, hugged them both, told them to have a wonderful time and not forget to write, and then watched as the jet thundered down the runway and rose gracefully into the air…
‘I want you back in the business with me.’
Sally’s voice broke into her thoughts and she blinked. ‘What?’
‘I want you back in the business,’ Sally repeated impatiently. ‘We can come to some agreement right now. Come on, Janene. What do you say? We were a great team once. We can do it again.’
The waiter arrived with the meal and Janene heaved a mental sigh of relief. ‘Let’s eat first and give me time to think about it,’ she prevaricated.
Resuming her career was the last thing in the world she intended doing, but she hated the thought of letting Sally down. It had been the realisation that something like this might happen that had made her reluctant to come in the first place.
Respecting her wishes, Sally didn’t pursue the matter until they were having coffee, then she asked abruptly, ‘Well? Have you thought about it? Do we have a deal or not?’
All through the meal her mind had been grappling with the problem, and now she said, ‘I’d like to help you all I can, Sally. If you’re going through a bad patch, I’d be glad to help out financially. You only need to ask.’
Sally eyed her in frustration, then, in her usual straightforward manner, got straight to the point. ‘That isn’t the reason for this meeting, Janene. You’re the one that needs help, not me. It’s been a year since that—that terrible accident. You should be over it by now. You can’t let it affect your whole life.’
‘I—I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ she muttered into her cup.
‘Of course you do!’ Sally said in irritation. ‘You keep blaming yourself and that’s silly. You’ve put your head under the blanket and you’re determined to keep it there. I’m giving you the chance to grab hold of life again.’ She gave a little shrug. ‘I’m not saying it’s going to be easy. But it’s surely worth a try. At least, if you’re busy, you won’t have time to brood.’
Janene had been listening, dull-eyed, but now she summoned up a smile and said with affection, ‘Sally, you’re a wonderful friend. No one could ask for any better. But there’s really no need to worry about me. The fact is that I’m getting married shortly.’
Sally’s eyes widened and her mouth opened in astonishment. ‘Janene! That’s marvellous!’ She leaned across the table in excitement. ‘You’ve got to tell me all about him. I’ll bet he’s absolutely gorgeous. What’s his name? Is he rich? Not that that matters, but it helps. Where did you meet him?’
She laughed. ‘Hold on! One thing at a time. First of all, his name is Damien. He’s tall, with brown hair and grey eyes. He works for himself. He’s a financial adviser and I met him six months ago.’
‘Six months ago! And you’ve been keeping him to yourself all this time! Why didn’t you let me know?’
‘I—I was getting around to it,’ she murmured. ‘Anyway, I want you to be my bridesmaid at the wedding. Will you?’
‘Just try and stop me,’ Sally threatened, bubbling over with enthusiasm. ‘When is the wedding?’
‘Well, we haven’t actually got round to fixing the date yet,’ Janene confessed quietly. ‘Damien is very busy at the moment.’
Sally’s eyebrows rose a fraction. ‘I see… You mean, he’s going to marry you when he can spare the time?’ Giving her head a slight shake of disapproval, she took another sip of her coffee, then laid her cup down and sighed in apology. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. At least he sounds as if he’ll be a good provider.’ She smiled brightly. ‘So? When am I going to meet him? Just let me know the time and place. I’ll dust off one of my old boyfriends and we’ll have a foursome. Dinner, then a nightclub.’
The idea appealed to Janene. ‘I’d like that, Sally. I really would like you to meet him. I’ll be out of town for a few days, but as soon as I get back I’ll get in touch and let you…’ Her voice trailed off and the colour drained from her face as she caught sight of the man at the bar.
Sally eyed her with concern. ‘What’s wrong? Do you feel ill?’
The man had his back to them, but he was tall and slim and had raven-black hair and a way of standing… He turned to greet a companion and Janene let out a sigh of relief. ‘It—it’s nothing,’ she stammered. ‘I thought I saw someone I met at a party last night.’
Sally turned in her seat. ‘Do you mean that dishylooking guy at the bar?’
‘Yes. But I was wrong.’ This was ridiculous, she fold herself. She was acting like a nervous idiot. The chances of her ever running into Kassim Riffik again were negligible. He was probably back in Morocco by now, where he belonged.
‘So, what did this man at the party do to scare you?’ asked Sally, eager for a bit of gossip. ‘And don’t say that he didn’t. You looked as if you’d seen a ghost a moment ago.’
‘Nothing,’ she answered firmly. ‘It was all in my imagination.’ Before Sally could interrogate her any further on the subject, she called the waiter over and settled the bill with her credit card. ‘It’s my treat,’ she announced to Sally. ‘And don’t argue.’
The first boutique they’d opened, The Cat’s Eye, was only a few minutes’ walk away and Sally insisted on dragging her along to see her latest range of stock. The manageress took the opportunity for a break, and as Janene took her place behind the glass-topped counter she felt a stirring of familiar excitement.
She was busy casting a professional eye over the display when a customer came in, and it seemed the most natural thing in the world to switch on her sales technique. Ten minutes later the woman, who’d only come in for a pair of ear-rings, happily left with a matching bracelet and necklace.
‘You haven’t lost the touch,’ Sally remarked in approval. ‘And you were really enjoying yourself. Go on…admit it. You feel at home behind that counter, don’t you?’
Janene looked around the boutique regretfully, then shook her head. ‘My mind is made up, Sally. I’m getting married.’
‘Yes—’ Sally gave a despondent shrug ‘—so you’ve told me. But if things don’t work out… Well, you know where to come.’
It was just after five in the evening when Janene arrived at the cottage in the depths of the Kent countryside. On the way she’d stopped at the supermarket in Ashford and loaded up the Volvo with enough tinned and frozen food to last a fortnight.
Isolated and hidden behind high hedges, the cottage was half timbered, with a thatched roof and strong shutters on the windows. An ideal retreat from the world. It had belonged to her parents, and she’d spent many happy weekends here as a child.
A few weeks after her parents’ funeral she’d come down, intending to spend some time on her own, but the memories it evoked were too painful and she’d fled back to London after only one night. For a while after that she’d toyed with the idea of selling the cottage, but then she’d met Damien and he’d persuaded her to change her mind. The cottage was a sound investment, he’d said, and though the market for this type of property was depressed at the moment it was bound to pick up sooner or later.
The place smelt damp and musty after being closed up for so long, but she soon had a log fire blazing in the hearth, then, arming herself with a bottle of red wine and a glass, she went into the kitchen and began preparing a light supper. The memories weren’t so bad now. She was learning to live with them.
The following day was warm and sunny and, throwing the windows and doors wide open, she vacuumed and scrubbed and polished the place from top to bottom. By evening she was stiff and aching, but everything was done to her satisfaction, and she rewarded herself with a long, luxuriating soak in the bath.
That night, relaxing with a glass of wine in front of another blazing fire, she was glad that she’d taken Damien’s advice to hold on to the cottage. Instead of selling it, she’d keep it. When they were married, this would be the ideal place to relax and unwind. The nearest house was half a mile away, so there were no noisy neighbours to disturb the peace and tranquillity. And eventually, of course, they’d be able to bring their own children here. Her parents would have liked that if they’d still been alive.
A sudden noise from outside caught her attention and drew her to the window. She peered out into the night but saw nothing. It had sounded like a rattle from the gate at the foot of the path, and she opened the door and called out nervously, ‘Who’s there? What do you want?’
There was no answer from the menacing darkness, and she strained her ears. From the woods to the left there was a fluttering of wings and the hoot of an owl. The river at the back of the cottage gurgled softly.
She stood for a moment longer, her breath quick and nervous, then, biting her lip, she closed the door and made sure that it was securely locked and bolted.
Pouring herself another glass of wine, she sat down by the fire again and told herself not to be such a coward. It had probably been nothing more sinister than a fox out foraging for scraps. It was that man Riffik who was to blame for the state of her nerves. All that talk about corsairs snatching people from their beds. Well, there was little chance of an ocean-going boat making its way up that tittle river.
No, she decided. She had nothing to fear from him. Damien had been right. Kassim Riffik was the hot-blooded Mediterranean type. All talk and come-to-bed eyes. Chatting up strange women was just a way of life to men like him, as natural as eating and drinking.
Her thoughts turned to Damien. She was going to have to be firm and get him to agree to a date for the wedding. When she’d had to make that ridiculous excuse to Sally about him being too busy at the moment, she’d felt embarrassed. After all, it only took half an hour at the most to get married in a register office. If he could afford to take a week’s holiday and come down here, he could surely afford the time off for a half-hour ceremony.
The heat of the fire and the wine she’d drunk were making her drowsy. The sensible thing to do was to go to bed, but she was too comfortable sitting right here, and slowly her eyelids began to droop. Her last thought before she fell asleep was that she’d have to check all the window-latches before she retired for the night…
The fire was low, although the room was still warm, when she opened her eyes. There was a strange prickling sensation in her arm, but she ignored it as she stared up at the dark stranger who was bending over her.
‘Hello, Janene. How are you feeling?’
His features were slightly blurred, but there was no mistaking those blue eyes. ‘I knew I was going to dream about you,’ she mumbled. She felt as if she was floating on a warm, spongy cloud.
‘Yes. I said we’d meet again, didn’t I?’
‘I know you did. That’s why I’m dreaming about you.’ She was pleased at how clever she was to have worked that out.
‘Can you stand?’ he asked quietly.
‘Of course I can stand,’ she said indignantly. She struggled to her feet and swayed. Peering into his face, she said, ‘There! I’m standing.’
‘Hmm…’ He shook his head doubtfully. ‘I think I’d better carry you.’
She smiled. ‘Go ahead.’ He lifted her easily and, as he cradled her in his arms, she clasped her hands around his neck. ‘I suppose you’re going to take me through to the bedroom now.’ His lips were enticingly close and she felt reckless and abandoned. After all, this was her dream and she could do anything she damn well pleased.
‘Do you want me to take you to bed?’ he asked softly.
‘I don’t mind,’ she replied, her eyes fixed firmly on his mouth. ‘After all those things you said to me at the party, it might be interesting to find out if you’re as good as you think you are.’
He gave a deep, throaty chuckle. ‘I am. But we don’t have time at the moment. That pleasure will have to wait till later.’
She frowned. This dream was getting disappointing. ‘Later might be too late,’ she said grumpily. ‘I could wake up at any minute.’
‘And if you did happen to wake up, you’d undoubtedly slap my face and demand to be put down immediately?’ he asked with a touch of irony.
She thought that over for a moment, then nodded. ‘Yes. I’d have to, wouldn’t I? I mean…I’m getting married to Damien very soon. I’d be cheating on him.’ His mouth was still close to hers and she wanted desperately to feel it against her own. Then slowly the dream began to fade, and she descended into a warm cocoon of darkness.
* * *
Someone was shaking her shoulder gently and she murmured sleepily, ‘Go away. I’m tired.’
The shaking persisted, and a woman’s voice with a French accent said, ‘We will be landing soon. I have brought you some tea. Drink it and you’ll feel better.’
Janene cautiously opened her eyes and took in her surroundings. Another dream. She was in a tiny lounge…sitting in a comfortable seat. The windows were small and she looked out. ‘Well! This was a new twist! She’d never dreamt of being in a plane before.
‘Please…take your tea.’
The girl was smiling at her. A pretty little stewardess in a light grey uniform. A door at the front of the lounge opened and Kassim entered. He took the cup from the stewardess and waited until she had departed back to the galley, then he said matter-of-factly, ‘This is mint tea. It’s very refreshing. I’m sure you’ll like it.’
Her eyes grew wider and the first stirrings of panic rose in her throat. This wasn’t a dream! This was real! She could even smell the mint in the tea from here. Looking at him in utter disbelief, she spluttered, ‘You—you’ve kidnapped me!’
A hint of mockery glinted from his blue eyes. ‘Yes…I suppose it appears that way to you.’ He offered her the cup once more. ‘Do you want this or not?’
‘You’ve kidnapped me!’ she repeated in a voice of incredulity. ‘You came to the cottage last night! I—I thought I was dreaming.’
‘That would be the effect of the drug.’ he said calmly. ‘But you’ve no need to—’
‘You drugged me?’ She shot to her feet in outrage and dashed the cup from his hand.
He surveyed the broken china and stained carpet at his feet, and shook his head. ‘Tut, tut. I didn’t realise that English girls went in for smashing crockery. I thought it was only volatile Italian ladies who did things like that.’ He looked up and gave her an apologetic shrug. ‘I merely administered a sedative which—’
‘You stuck a damned needle in my arm,’ she accused him hotly. ‘I remember feeling it now.’
He went on smoothly, ‘As I was saying, a sedative which is perfectly safe and non-addictive. It’s the same thing they give to patients in hospital a few hours before an operation. It soothes and calms the nerves.’
‘So now you’re a doctor, are you?’ she fumed.
‘I studied medicine in Paris for five years,’ he informed her casually, then added, ‘Anyway, it was imperative that I got you to safety before the police arrived.’ He smiled at her look of incredulity and explained, ‘I was informed at the very last minute by certain…friends of mine that officers from the Drug Squad were due to swoop on the cottage at five a.m.’
She snorted. ‘Well, if that’s the best you can come up with—’
‘Damien dealt in cocaine,’ he informed her quietly. ‘A lot of the stuff is cached somewhere in your cottage.’
She stared at him in angry silence for a moment, then snapped, ‘I’ve never heard such rubbish in my life. I don’t believe a word of it. You’re making it up.’
‘And that’s precisely why I had to sedate you,’ he pointed out. ‘There was no time to argue with you, or to search the cottage and get rid of the stuff before the police arrived.’ He paused, then went on reflectively, ‘I’ve no doubt that you’d have been able to prove your innocence eventually, but you might have had to spend a few uncomfortable weeks in custody. I sincerely regret having had to resort to such tactics, but I had no alternative.’
‘Oh, you’re going to regret it all right!’ she promised heatedly. ‘Assault and kidnapping and—and slanderous accusations against an innocent man. As soon as we land I’m going to report you to the authorities. You’ll probably spend the rest of your life in prison.’
His eyes were unwavering, and his thin lips stretched and twisted into a cynical smile. ‘I’m sorry to dash your hopes for my downfall. When we arrive at our destination, you’ll find that I’m the only authority there is.’ He paused and studied her expression, then added drily, ‘However, if you submit your complaints to me in writing I’ll attend to them in due course.’
She sat down in defeat and glared up at him. It was a long time since she’d felt as outraged as this. Things like this weren’t supposed to happen in this day and age. At least, not in England. My God, you weren’t even safe in your own house at night! Suddenly she lurched to her feet again and strode towards the lounge door.
His arm shot out and restrained her. ‘Where do you think you’re going?’
‘To see the pilot,’ she snapped, struggling to get past. ‘I’m going to tell him what’s happened and demand that he turn back and take me home immediately.’
His dark face hovered over hers and he teased softly, ‘How beautiful you look when you’re in a temper. There’s a glow on your skin and a positive sparkle in your eyes.’
‘Let me pass!’ she demanded furiously.
He lowered his arm and shrugged. ‘Go ahead. But you’ll be wasting your time. This is my plane and the pilot only obeys my orders.’
She drew in her breath. ‘Your plane?’
He flashed his white teeth at her in a smile of affirmation, then said, ‘Perhaps you’d like to sit down now and I’ll have “my” stewardess fetch you another drink.’
She slumped down in her seat and looked up at him bleakly. She was beginning to remember, with some embarrassment, the things she’d said to him last night in her dream-state, before the sedative had taken full effect.
‘What happened after I passed out last night?’ she asked suspiciously.
He pressed a bell for the stewardess, ordered another cup of tea, then drawled, ‘After you passed out I carried you outside, put you in a car, drove you to a private airfield and lifted you aboard this plane.’
‘And that’s all that happened?’ she asked doubtfully.
His blue eyes narrowed and became icy. ‘I hope you’re not suggesting that I took advantage of your condition?’
‘Why not?’ she retorted. ‘You’ve done everything else. I wouldn’t put it past you.’ She stared back at him resentfully. ‘You say that you studied medicine and that you own this plane. That means you’re a man of intelligence, at least. If that’s the case, can you tell me why you’re doing a stupid thing like this? I’ve got a good idea what you’ve got in mind, but it won’t do you any good.’
He raised a mocking eyebrow. ‘Don’t be too sure. I recall the conversation we had at the party. You told me that you had nothing against me as a person and that, in fact, you found me quite attractive.’
Her mouth dropped open in protest, then she reminded him acidly, ‘I also called you egotistical. That was the understatement of the year, now I come to think about it. A dangerous and conceited oaf would have been nearer the mark.’
‘My faults are many,’ he conceded with a crooked grin. ‘But in time you will learn to overlook them. After those amorous overtures you made to me last night, I have every confidence in our future relationship. You and I, Janene, are going to give each other exquisite and eternal pleasure.’
His reference to last night made her inwardly cringe, but she said coldly, ‘So it doesn’t mean anything to you that I’m in love with another man?’
His deep laugh grated across her raw, exposed nerves. ‘You may have intended to marry Damien, but I doubt if you were ever seriously in love with him.’
She felt herself flushing, and was on the point of retaliating with some crushing remark when the stewardess returned and handed her a fresh cup.
Conscious of Kassim’s blue eyes stripping and caressing her in anticipation, she sipped the tea, then laid down the cup and averted her head to stare out of the window. Far below, she saw green rollers and white surf washing along countless miles of deserted golden beach. Inland there was nothing but scrub growing in a barren landscape of red earth and rock.
‘Would you mind telling me where we are?’ she asked bitterly.
He chuckled. ‘The far side of the moon,’ he said, reminding her of the sarcastic statement she’d made at the party. Satisfied that he’d scored a point, he went on, ‘What you see below you is the Atlantic Ocean and the coast of south-west Morocco.’
She simmered away in silence for a few more minutes as he settled himself in the seat beside her. Dark, suspicious thoughts were tormenting her mind and the more she tried to ignore them the more persistent they became. Undoubtedly she’d get to the truth sooner or later, but her more immediate problem was how to deal with this situation.
Her nerves tautened and her leg twitched as he placed his hand on her thigh, just above the knee. ‘Don’t be discouraged by the view, Janene,’ he whispered in a voice of silky seduction. ‘I’m offering you much more than rocks and sand. You will shortly find yourself in a private little corner of paradise.’
His hand began gently stroking her thigh, but, instead of telling him to stop, she said unsteadily, ‘I—I don’t care what it’s like. You—you can’t keep me there against my will.’
‘I won’t need to,’ he murmured in her ear. ‘Once you have drunk at my well, no water will ever taste as sweet again. You will stay because you will be a prisoner of your own awakened desires.’
Her chest was getting tight, and she gulped, ‘Are all Moroccan men as conceited as you are? If they are, then I pity the poor women who have to put up with it.’
‘Not conceited, my little English rose. Just confident in the knowledge that we are experts in the art of physical pleasure. In our culture, it’s a man’s duty to recognise and cater for a woman’s needs.’ He gave her thigh a final squeeze, then said, with tongue in cheek, ‘There is nothing I would like better than to give you a demonstration here and now, I myself have a desire that needs urgent consummation, but my appetite shall remain under control for the moment.’ His hand came up and slid sensuously across her stomach, causing her heart to race. He reached for her seatbelt, and gave her a wide and wicked smile. ‘We’ll be landing shortly. Allow me to strap you in.’