Chapter Twenty-One
Old Habits Die Hard
James caught me by the waist. “Tell me lies, Paisley,” he said against my mouth. “Tell me you don’t want me, that you don’t remember how it was between us.” His hand cupped my breast, moulding to the swell and resting over my pounding heart. His smile pressed into my cheek. “Tell me your heart isn’t beating faster because of me, that you don’t want this as much as I do.”
“I can’t,” I admitted. “But we can’t do this.”
“Is it because of Tarzan?” James said, suddenly still. “Are you lovers?”
“No, Tarzan’s like a brother. I...uhm...haven’t had sex for a long time.”
James gave me the most carnally charged look I’d ever seen. “Neither have I.”
He pushed his hips into mine, showing me what he had to offer. I thrilled at the pressure of his rock solid cock, remembering the feel of him surging inside me. The air was thick with his scent and I wondered how long it had been since he’d had sex.
“Two years give or take,” he said.
“Try seven.”
James froze and so did I. Oh crap and double crap! I hadn’t meant to say that! What kind of healthy, no-nonsense woman doesn’t have sex for so many years? Gets condoms and tries to do the deed only to shy away because she has the freaky ability to read her would-be lover’s thoughts?
Telling James I preferred my vibrator to the real deal because it didn’t have a brain wasn’t an option. Burning embarrassment heated my face until I was sure my skin was as red as my dress. James was delighted at my confession though. No doubt about it, he was a primitive beast where I was concerned.
James had been turned on before but now he was inflamed, desperate to bury himself inside me and relearn the contours of my most intimate parts. Fragile red crepe tore as he pulled my straps down. For a few panting seconds he stared at my breasts, then his mouth was on me, sucking my nipple so hard I moaned and pulled him closer. My body thrilled at his touch, sensual and slow building to hungry and demanding.
We were lost in flames, overpowered by heat. Would I melt, sink into the wall so that my body was outlined in terracotta? Or would I evaporate, escape into molecules of steam that left a faint lustre where I used to be? James held me tightly, moulding me to him and making sure I did neither.
“Wait,” I breathed.
His voice was raspy, as if it had been dragged through the sandy beach below. “I’m not waiting any longer.”
Bare bones and straight talking, just the way I liked, but I couldn’t do the same. My mind yelled at me that this was the moment to tell James the truth. I didn’t want to listen, not when what I now knew I had wanted for so long was mine for the taking. I could feel James growing stiffer, longer, and the thought that I could take him inside me wrung a whimper from my throat. He slipped his hand under my skirt and found me, wet and ready.
My pleasure was intense but guilt was fast overtaking the ecstasy. At eighteen I had made the wrong choices, giving in to my desires without a thought for James, and here I was about to do the same. Once again I had a choice, and if I didn’t make the right one it would be just as bad as before.
Worse! my mind screamed.
I dug my nails into his neck, taking my tormented emotions out on his skin. My conscience could go screw itself because I was going to screw James. Full stop and end of story. I’d suffered enough so I should be allowed some happiness, shouldn’t I? Besides, nothing would be gained from telling him the truth.
You can’t do this! my mind shouted.
I tuned her out. My decision was made and that was that.
James hitched my thighs around his waist and we sank against the wall, our bodies pressed together and our mouths devouring each other’s. He was as magnificent as in my dreams, his cock as long and hard as I remembered.
The voice in my head regrouped and surged, refusing to be ignored, getting louder and louder. I told myself nothing else mattered except here and now and the zaps of pain were as intense as my rising pleasure.
Unwilling to let go of the dream, I clung to James and he held me close, murmuring my name like a prayer. He would curse me if he knew what I had done. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I fought a losing battle between truth and guilt. The bottom line was that I wasn’t the old Paisley, guided by selfishness instead of...
Love, my mind said, so softly I was forced to listen.
The realisation that I loved James hit me like a freight train. It didn’t matter that he was arrogant or high-handed. He was kind. A compassionate, tender man who was protective. Some people might scoff at those qualities ranking highest on my list, but I knew their value more than others.
James was a man with strong principles and the sort of integrity I admired, a man who strived to do the right thing no matter the circumstances. Of course it helped he was built like Beckham. He switched all my buttons on and—
Oh God. I loved James. Desperately and passionately...
And hopelessly.
No! I could have everything I wanted: a life with James and Ryan. They would never know the secret I kept, never be hurt by what I had done and I could... I could...
You could become Caroline, my mind said.
I could ignore what I had done and slowly rot under the weight of self-delusion. I broke off and sucked in an agonised breath. It took every ounce of willpower I had left to give James what he deserved. The truth is that love gave me the strength to do what was right.
I wrenched my mouth away. “You’re not Ryan’s father,” I said. “I lied at your wedding.”
James regarded me, bemused but still holding me close. I had his full attention. “Ryan’s biological father is called Alex Novak, a man I knew in Brighton. We fooled around and I got pregnant before I slept with you.”
The haze of desire cleared from James’s face. He stared at me, shaking his head as if he expected me to admit that I was joking.
“What are you talking about?”
My voice was stronger than I’d thought possible. “You took my virginity in Caroline’s bed but I was already pregnant, impossible as that may seem.”
I told him everything. My five minute tryst with Alex and how I came to be pregnant while still a virgin. James backed away but I wasn’t stupid enough to follow. He stood by the old sofa, rigid as I told him of the positive pregnancy test and my panic because of it, of my desire for him and the drunken decision to declare him the father of my child.
When I was finished James didn’t say a word, and as the silence lengthened I saw desolation turn his face into a wasteland. It was then that I understood why people did it, why they peppered their apologies with lame excuses and explanations. It was the desperate need to repair the damage they had done, the wish to fit something back together again even as it shattered into a million pieces.
Incoherent excuses came tumbling out of my mouth until my voice trailed away, stuttering to a stop because nothing I could say would ever make up for what I had done. It didn’t look like James registered my presence. His dark skin had gone so grey he could have been carved out of pewter.
“Did you tell me the truth in your letters?” he said.
Yes! I could say one of my letters had carried the truth years ago only he had refused to read it. If I did that, then maybe he wouldn’t despise me as much. I opened my mouth to lie—and stopped. What was the point of telling him the truth if I lied about everything else?
“No,” I said.
“Then I’m a fool twice over.”
“No!” I said, shaking my head emphatically.
James’s laugh was harsh and ugly. “I should’ve known better than to allow myself to think of you with anything other than contempt. You came back to England to blackmail me, didn’t you? To threaten me with contacting Ryan’s biological father if you didn’t get what you wanted. Everything Caroline said about you was true.”
I didn’t meet his eyes because, well, the thought of threatening him had occurred to me. What can I say? I was frustrated and angry at the time but I had discarded the idea immediately. I’d told myself it was because I didn’t want to hurt Ryan and that was true, but it was also true that I hadn’t wanted to confess my lie—least of all to James.
I must have looked guilty as hell because James’s eyes narrowed into slits.
“Okay,” I confessed. “Maybe I did think about it but I didn’t do it. I decided to come back to the UK and—”
“And fuck me instead,” he said softly. “Then you were going to blackmail me with the truth. Because you’re a psychotic, perverse little bitch, aren’t you? Just like Caroline.”
“No, of course not! And I won’t contact Alex either,” I said, wanting to reassure him. “You’re Ryan’s father—nothing has changed.”
“Nothing has changed?” he said furiously. “That’s certainly true as far as you’re concerned. You’re still a conniving liar who gets her kicks out of manipulating me, biding your time so you can gloat. Congratulations, Paisley, this performance was better than the one at my wedding. A brilliant encore I’ll leave you to savour as far away from Ryan and me as possible.”
I stared at him in dismay, shaking my head as if the action would somehow make him believe me.
“Have you thought for one instant about Ryan?” he snarled. “He’s already growing up without a mother but to take away the only father he’s ever known—”
“Of course I have,” I said. “That’s why it’s been so hard to tell you!”
Aggression swirled around James, dark currents that made my scalp tingle in alarm. He was holding on to his control by the barest of threads, his expression a mixture of loathing and passion. But it wasn’t the passion you read about in books or the kind you dream about at night. It was the kind that precedes life imprisonment.
I had to keep my cool, as I used to when my father was lost in rage. I didn’t believe James would hurt me, at least I hoped not, but I’d never seen him like this and it scared me. Even so I wanted to touch him, hold him, make him forgive me. I took a step and stopped when he retreated as if he didn’t trust himself not to lash out.
“I never meant to hurt you,” I said, flinching as soon as the words were out.
What the hell was wrong with me? I had just uttered the lamest, stupidest words in the English language. James obviously thought so too. His lips twisted into a sneer, an expression I’d never seen on him before.
“I suppose you’re going to tell me how sorry you are and how much you care about me.” His hands clenched into fists. “The only person you care about is yourself. Not Ryan and certainly not me.”
“I love Ryan and I-I do care about you!” I cried. “I’ve never opened myself to another man before or felt this way about anybody else.”
James wasn’t in listening mode; he had suppressed his rage but maybe not for long. Caroline’s lies about me were uppermost in his thoughts and he was finding them more credible with every second that passed. My revelation had proven her right.
No frickin’ way. I had to make him understand how much he meant to me.
I smiled tremulously. “I’ve felt drawn to you since the first day I met you, connected somehow. I think you felt the same. You took my virginity. You were my first.”
“I think I paid a high enough price for the privilege, don’t you?” he said bitterly, taking out his wallet. “How much for tonight?”
I gasped, sucking in air too heavy to breathe. A sharp, crackling pain hit me in the chest. It radiated through my body until it felt as if even my veins sizzled from the brutal shock of his thoughts. It was a different kind of lightning, one you don’t die from but one that cripples you for life.
Maybe I should have railed at him for the insult but all I did was shake my head mutely. He shrugged and I slumped against the wall, too numb to do anything but watch him readjust his clothing and listen as he phoned a taxi. My body alternated between cold and hot while I desperately tried to think of a way to make him forgive me.
“I’m in luck,” he said. “There’s a taxi two minutes away.”
“What I did to you was terrible and you didn’t deserve it. But I’m not that person anymore,” I said, putting every ounce of truth into my words. “I came back a changed woman!”
James stopped buckling his belt to look at me. “So when were you going to tell me I’m not Ryan’s father?”
Oh no. I shut my eyes, bowing my head under the weight of his stare. When I heard the sharp intake of his breath I bit my lip so hard it bled.
“You were never going to tell me, were you?” he said. “Had I read your letters and given in to your demands I would have remained none the wiser.”
“I didn’t want to hurt you or Ryan.”
“I don’t want to hear your lies,” he answered, voice breaking.
A car pulled up and beeped its horn. I held up my torn bodice with a trembling hand, begging him with my eyes to allow me to stay. James raked his gaze over my torso, took off his shirt and thrust it at me. I reached my hand out and for a moment I thought he’d take it to hurl me out of the house.
Out of his life.
The wad of euros he took out was for the taxi fare but I felt sleazy all the same and didn’t take it, stumbling to the door and hoping he would pull me back. When I got there I turned around. James was on the sofa, hunched over and body shaking.
I’m in no way sexist but for me there’s something shattering about seeing a strong, masculine man cry—not the light dampness that sticks his lashes together and makes his eyes glisten with emotion but real, painful tears of inconsolable sorrow. Tears that wrack his frame and leave him raw and broken.
“I love you, James,” I said. “I think I always have except I didn’t know it until now. That’s why I had to tell you the truth.”
“Get out.”
In his voice there was a ragged, implacable tone I’d never heard before. “No phone calls or texts and no stalking or I’ll prosecute you all the way to hell. Ryan is my son. If you or Alex Novak so much as try to contact to him you’ll regret it.”
The scent of James’s shirt tormented me all the way back to Valencia. I wanted to vent my grief with tears but they refused to come. When I got to the airport the next morning James was nowhere to be seen and we boarded the flight to London without him.
* * *
They say bad things come in threes and I’ll sign up to that. I lost my parents, James and Ryan, and when I went to work on Monday morning I lost my job. “Suspended pending further investigation” was the way they put it but for all intents and purposes it was the same. I was officially under suspicion for the theft of client funds.
Nervously, I faced Mr Lemane, the other partners, Greg and James across the meeting room table, my attention on James. There were tension lines around his eyes and his jaw was hard.
“James,” I said as calmly as I could, “I didn’t steal from our clients. You said you believed me, remember? I don’t know how to do the more complex banking transactions.”
He didn’t look at me. “You can explain yourself to the Metropolitan Police. The bank informed us this morning you called in the transfers personally, using your passwords. An officer will be here shortly.”
My jaw dropped. “No way! I never transferred any money. There has to be a mistake.”
Mr Lemane stood up, signalling the end of my trial. His eyes were full of disappointment and anger. “We would greatly appreciate it if you would clear your desk and vacate our premises with minimal disruption to our staff.”
James left the room without a backward glance and Greg accompanied me to the office suite like a guard dog. Did they think I would try to steal the hardware? I tried not to notice the hostile stares, making my way across the floor with my head high. Well, not bowed anyway. Somebody had set me up, but who and why? Nothing made sense.
I told myself there was no need to panic because I was innocent. But since when has innocence ever guaranteed justice? I slumped at my desk, not caring if Greg saw how worried I was.
“Hurry up, Betty,” he said. “My wife will be here soon and I’d hate for her to see you getting hauled off to jail. Not in her delicate condition. And don’t even think about turning your computer on. It’s heading down to the police station for examination.”
I didn’t bother to answer, staring at my desk morosely while he gloated at my misfortune. When people got fired in films they spent ages packing a cardboard box they happened to have at hand and bitching about their circumstances to a supportive colleague. No so for me. I had the Moshi Monster pencil Fleur Anise had given me, a Mars bar and Greg.
He watched me with a satisfied grin, which made me want to punch him. Then Velma buzzed through on my phone. Her cheerful voice announced the police officer as if he were a lover with a bouquet of flowers. I took one last look at James’s desk before I headed out.
“Goodbye, Greg. It was nice meeting you. Shame about the getting to know you part.”
“It could have been much better, Becks. There are plenty of satisfied women around here.”
I spun around at the door to look him over. “If we were the last two people on earth I’d find a moving island so I could keep away from you. And if you managed to haul your carcass on board I would dive off and drown rather than sleep with you.”
Greg stood up. “Shut up, Elizabeth.”
“I don’t think so, Greggie. The fact you cheat on your wife shows how pathetic you are. You’d better hope your father-in-law pops it soon because that poor, clueless woman might catch on you only married her for the money or discover your affair with Patricia and all the other women you screw. You won’t be giving up work and living the high life if she divorces you for being a philandering bastard.”
“What?” a woman screeched from behind me.
I jumped and looked around. Greg’s wife was in the doorway and James was with her.
“Oh crap.”
Greg’s wife was shaking, looking between Greg and me with wide, stricken eyes. “Is that true?”
Oh God, she wasn’t asking me was she?
“Darling, she’s lying,” Greg said.
I sucked in my bottom lip and averted my face. She lurched backward, clutching her pregnant abdomen. Then she gave a small cry and stumbled past James. Greg went after her, stopping briefly when he got to me.
“I hope they lock you up and throw away the key.”
I dropped onto the edge of my desk, feeling rotten. Why hadn’t I kept my mouth shut, let Greg have the last word and then left? I berated myself, all the while conscious that James was standing in front of me. He didn’t say anything, but one glance told me nothing had changed.
“Old habits die hard,” he said scathingly, and turned on his heels.