A Stranger's Kiss

second she had seen him that he was ruthless. And it was true, there was a drive, a dynamism that had carried him to a position of power and influence that he enjoyed without apology. But there was so much more. She had thought of him as a black knight, but that wasn’t right. He had his faults, heaven knew, but he was on the side of the angels. He might even now regret his affair with Jane. The way he had kissed her that last day in his office had been more than simple lust. He had wanted her as much as she wanted him and only her fingertip grasp on sanity had stopped them from making the most terrible mistake. But he was aware of his responsibilities to Jane and the baby and he would never desert her. That was right and she accepted it.
    He turned suddenly and caught her staring. ‘You sent the pearls back.’ The unexpectedness of this statement, so far from her own thoughts, came as a shock. ‘Why?’ he demanded.
    ‘What did you expect?’ she asked. ‘You refused to do it for me.’
    ‘I thought you were being unnecessarily noble. Hanna could afford to be generous.’
    ‘That’s not the point.’
    He glanced across at her again. ‘You’ve quite shaken Hanna’s faith in the avarice of women, you know.’
    ‘You’ve spoken to him?’
    ‘He telephoned in something of a panic, demanding to know what you wanted from him. What it would take to buy your silence. He assumed, you see, that returning the earrings was a very sophisticated form of blackmail. A suggestion that it wasn’t quite enough.’
    Her eyes widened in horror. ‘No, Adam!’ He had to believe her.
    ‘I finally convinced him that if you had said you had forgiven him he could forget the whole thing. He’s a broken man, Tara. He’s not used to forgiveness without having pay for his misdeeds. His wife extracts jewels like a quack dentist.’ He half smiled. ‘No anaesthetic.’
    She looked at her hands nervously pleating her skirt. She could cope with anything but that smile. ‘I could never have worn them.’
    ‘Well, you’ve done yourself no harm. He’s a powerful friend and he feels a debt of honour.’
    ‘A singularly inapt phrase, if I may say so.’
    ‘What? Oh, yes, I suppose it is.’ They were stationary in traffic and he drummed his fingers impatiently against the steering wheel.
    Tara felt herself beginning to crack. It had been a dreadful day and being forced into his company this way was the most subtle form of torture. Looking out of the window she realised they were near a station.
    ‘Look, I’m sorry you were lumbered with me, Adam. There’s a station over there, I’ll make my own way home from here.’ She moved to unfasten her seat belt.
    ‘Stay where you are, the traffic’s about to move.’
    ‘Well could you just pull over and let me out?’
    He stared at her. ‘Is my company really so abhorrent to you?’ The traffic began to move, but he stayed put and in seconds an angry chorus of horns began to sound behind them.
    ‘Adam!’
    ‘Answer me!’
    She couldn’t lie. ‘You said you didn’t want to see me again. Ever.’
    ‘Which just goes to show how much I know,’ he said, bitterly. He glanced in his mirror and raised a placating hand to those behind before moving off.
    ‘Please, Adam,’ she implored.
    He ignored her, accelerating away as the traffic cleared in front of them and the station was left far behind. ‘Surely it’s not too much to ask for your company for a few miles? You don’t have to talk to me if that’s a problem.’
    She didn’t answer. There was no point now. Apparently satisfied that this was a positive response, he slid a disk into the deck and the strains of Tchaikovsky’s Violin Concerto filled the car, putting an end to the verbal sparring.
    Tara closed her eyes, allowing the music to lift her and carry her where it would. She didn’t open them, even when they came to a halt, assuming that it was simply traffic lights until he cut the engine and the silence flooded back.
    Dragged back to reality, she looked around her. They were parked alongside the river. ‘Where are we?’
    ‘Somewhere in Buckinghamshire,’ he said, enigmatically. ‘Does it matter? I just felt like a walk. I’ve been chained to my desk all week and I’d like to blow the cobwebs away.’
    ‘Won’t it be dark soon?’ she protested.
    ‘Not for an hour. We’ll just take a gentle stroll down by the river. Nothing strenuous.’ He offered his arm. For a moment she held back. But he had been