Sidney Sheldon’s Chasing Tomorrow. Sidney Sheldon
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bullshit me. What’s on your mind?’
Rebecca closed the office door and leaned back against it. ‘I’m scared if I tell you, you’ll hate me.’
The surprise registered on Jeff’s face. ‘I won’t hate you. Why would I hate you?’
‘I don’t know. People have been known to shoot the messenger. I don’t want you to think I’m a gossip. But I…I’m worried about you. I don’t like to see you being lied to.’
Jeff frowned and sat down. ‘Okay. So now you have to tell me. What’s this about?’ Had someone in the museum been bad-mouthing him? Was someone after his job? It wouldn’t be unheard of. He was an amateur, after all, in a senior position. Perhaps one of his colleagues was—
‘It’s Tracy.’
Jeff flinched as if he’d been stung.
‘What about Tracy?’
‘Last week, you told me she’d gone away to Yorkshire for the night. Some walking tour.’
‘That’s right,’ said Jeff.
‘No. It isn’t.’ Rebecca blushed scarlet. ‘I saw her.’
‘What do you mean you saw her? Where?’
‘In London. In Piccadilly, actually. It was the evening I left early to meet my mother, remember? I saw Tracy coming out of a restaurant. She was with a man and they were laughing and joking and—’
Jeff held up a hand. ‘You must be mistaken. It was probably someone who looked like her from a distance.’
‘I wasn’t at a distance.’ Rebecca spoke quietly, clearly terrified of provoking him. ‘I was right there. It was her, Jeff. She didn’t see me because she was too wrapped up in this guy she was with.’
Jeff stood up. ‘I appreciate you telling me,’ he said with a stiff smile. ‘And I’m not angry because I know you meant well. But I assure you you’re mistaken. Tracy was in Yorkshire last week. Now, I’d better get down to the manuscript room. I’m twenty minutes late as it is.’
Rebecca stepped aside and he walked out, closing the door firmly behind him.
Damn it, thought Rebecca.
THE NEXT THREE WEEKS WERE TORTURE for Jeff. He knew he ought to go home and confront Tracy after what Rebecca had told him. Not because he believed Rebecca. It was a mistake, it had to be. But so that Tracy could reassure him. Jeff needed that reassurance desperately, like a flower needs sunlight and water. And yet he couldn’t bring himself to ask for it. Whenever he tried, all he could think about was Louise.
Louise Hollander, a stunning heiress whose father had owned half of Central America, had been Jeff Stevens’s first wife. She had taken the lead in their courtship, chasing him relentlessly until he had given in. Jeff had genuinely loved her, despite her money rather than because of it. When he first overheard gossip about Louise’s affairs, he’d dismissed it. Louise’s friends were spiteful snobs, who wanted their marriage to fail. But soon the rumours grew from whispers to a deafening roar and Jeff had no option but to face the truth.
Louise Hollander broke Jeff’s heart. He vowed never, ever to become emotionally vulnerable to a woman again. And then he met Tracy Whitney and realized he’d never really loved Louise after all. Tracy was Jeff’s world, the mother he lost, the lover he dreamed of, the sparring partner he’d never been able to find.
Tracy wouldn’t deceive me. She couldn’t.
Tracy loves me.
Rebecca must be wrong.
And yet, something was up with Tracy. Jeff had felt it before Rebecca even said anything. He’d felt it for months. The missed dinners, the trips, the unexplained meetings, the total and utter lack of interest in sex.
Two weeks after Rebecca’s bombshell Jeff finally found the courage to make an oblique reference to Tracy’s Yorkshire trip. They were in bed, reading, when he blurted it out.
‘When you went away a couple of weeks ago by yourself, didn’t you feel lonely?’
‘Lonely?’ Tracy raised an eyebrow. ‘No. Why would I?’
‘I don’t know.’ Jeff moved in closer, wrapping his arms around her. ‘Maybe you missed me.’
‘It was only one night, darling.’
‘I missed you.’ He ran a hand down her bare back before slipping it beneath the elastic of her Elle Macpherson panties. ‘I still miss you, Tracy.’
‘What do you mean?’ Tracy laughed, wriggling away from his hand. ‘You have me. I’m right here.’
Are you? thought Jeff.
Tracy turned out the light.
Whereas before, work had been a welcome respite from the emotional tension at home, now Jeff felt almost as ill at ease with Rebecca as he did with Tracy. He’d promised not to shoot the messenger. And yet on some, unconscious level, he realized he was angry with the beautiful young intern. Rebecca was wrong about Tracy. Wrong, wrong wrong. And yet she’d sown a seed of doubt in Jeff’s heart that refused to die. Well meaning or not, in one fell swoop Rebecca had shattered his equilibrium, leaving him feeling awkward and out of place at the British Museum as well as at Eaton Square.
One rainy morning, Jeff arrived at their joint office dripping wet – he’d forgotten his umbrella and couldn’t face going back home to retrieve it – to find Rebecca packing up her things.
‘What’s going on?’
Stuffing the last of her books into a cardboard box, Rebecca handed him a stiff white envelope. She forced herself to smile.
‘No hard feelings, boss. I’ve had an incredible time working with you. But we both know we can’t go on like this.’
‘Go on like what?’ said Jeff. Irrationally, he found he felt even angrier than usual. ‘You’re resigning?’
‘I’m leaving,’ said Rebecca. ‘I believe if it’s only called resigning if you get paid.’
‘Because of me?’ For the first time, Jeff felt a stab of guilt.
‘I think you’re amazing,’ said Rebecca. To Jeff’s astonishment, she put her arms around his neck and kissed him, just once, on the lips. The kiss wasn’t long but it was heartfelt. Jeff was embarrassed by how instantly aroused it made him.
‘Look…’ he began.
Rebecca shook her head. ‘Don’t. Please.’ She handed him an unmarked disc. ‘Watch this, after I’m gone. If you ever want to talk, you have my numbers.’
Jeff took the disc and the letter, staring at them both dumbly. It was a lot to take in at nine o’clock in the morning. Before he’d recovered enough to say anything, Rebecca was gone.
Depressed and exhausted suddenly, he sank down into his chair. Outside, the rain was still beating down relentlessly. The splatter of droplets on the tiny single window above his desk sounded like a hail of bullets.
What’s happened to my life? Jeff thought miserably. I feel like I’m under attack.
Switching on his computer, he slipped the disc inside.
Within ten minutes, he’d watched the footage five times. Then he read Rebecca’s letter.
He stood up, his feet unsteady beneath him, and opened the office door. He started walking down the corridor. After a few seconds he broke into a jog, then a run. The elevators took forever, so he bounded down the south stairs, two at a time.
‘Did you see Rebecca Mortimer?’
The girl at the front desk looked startled.
‘Hello, Mr