Red-Hot Lover. Sarah Holland
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nothing different about today.’
‘Then why are you so tense?’
His eyes flashed open, watching her with a guarded expression. ‘I’m not tense!’
Her pale brows rose.
‘I said, I’m not tense!’ He flushed angrily and shrugged her off. ‘In fact, there’s nothing wrong with me that a large brandy wouldn’t cure!’ Leaning forwards, he clicked open the drinks cabinet.
Clara watched with a frown as he poured himself a measure of cognac. A disciplined man, constantly driven to achieve, Jared rarely drank. In fact, she had known periods of up to four or five months go by without Jared touching even wine. Yet he had so far drunk two glasses of champagne, was now starting on brandy, and it was still only mid-afternoon.
‘Are you sure you want that brandy?’ she asked softly.
‘Quite sure, thank you!’ He glared over the rim of the glass.
Clara met his angry gaze and said, ‘Give me a smile. You look so grim.’
‘Why shouldn’t I look grim?’ He sat back, drank some more brandy. ‘You know I hate weddings. You know they irritate me. And you know I get badtempered just sitting through them. But you deliberately dragged me along to this one. Even though I told you this morning that I knew it would ruin the day for us.’
‘Darling…’ She was amazed that he could continue to be so unreasonable. ‘This wasn’t just any wedding.’
‘You knew it would ruin the day if I came along.’
‘But the day was the wedding. There was nothing else to the day. Just this. The church, the wedding, the bride, the groom—’
‘Precisely.’
She drew a patient breath. It was pointless arguing with him when he was in one of these moods. And it was true—she had known he would have a difficult time. She just hadn’t been able to see a way round it for either of them.
‘Well,’ she said with a placatory smile, ‘the ceremony itself is over. You can relax and look forward to the reception.’
‘I don’t want to go.’
Clara’s jaw dropped. For a second she just stared at him in speechless disbelief. Had he really said that? It wasn’t feasible. Not today.
Jared’s angular cheekbones ran red as he saw the shock in her face. ‘Look—I’ve had enough. All right? I know I’m not going to enjoy the reception.’
‘But, Jared, I—’
‘No. I’ve had enough. Can’t you see that?’ He sighed, ran a hand over the back of his neck as though the mere thought of the reception was sending his muscles back into a state of rigid tension. ‘It’s not just the marriage bit that I object to. It’s the press attention and the way everyone keeps staring at me.’
Clara found her tongue. ‘But press attention and admiring stares have been a part of your life since you first hit adulthood! In fact, you’ve been famous for over half your life! How can you possibly expect me to believe you’ve suddenly turned camera-shy?’
‘Yes, well, I’m not in the mood for cameras today.’
‘Why not?’
‘What do you mean—“Why not?”’ He threw her a furious look. ‘I don’t have a reason! I just know that that’s how I feel. Today, for my own personal reasons, I hate the attention. I hate being stared at like an animal in a zoo. I hate being photographed. And, most of all, I hate being asked stupid questions by strangers.’ He drank some more brandy, his face tense. ‘I don’t want to continue any further. I want, in fact, to abandon ship. I suggest we bypass the Ritz, turn round at Eros and go straight home. I’ll tell Harrison to—’
‘No!’ The word shot from her like a bullet from a gun and she caught his arm as he moved to lean forward and speak to Harrison. ‘Jared, I’m not going to let Susie down like this! She’s my best friend. She’s the closest thing—’
‘I know, I know!’ he muttered angrily, and after a second gave a deep sigh as he slumped back in his seat. But he glared straight ahead and refused to look at her. ‘All right. All right. We’ll go to the reception, damn it all to hell!’
She moistened her lips. ‘You don’t seriously want us to go home. I know you’re only saying it because you’re upset. You care about Susie, and you’d never do anything to destroy her happiness. It’s just this day, somehow. Something unusual must have happened today that I don’t know about.’ She was thinking aloud, going over the clues without realising what she was saying. ‘Something to do with the wedding photograph. The Llewellyns—’
‘Shut up!’ he bit out thickly, and when she looked up in startled disbelief at him speaking to her like that, she saw the tide of dark red deepening on his cheekbones.
She also saw the look in his eyes.
The black pupils were fully dilated now. The vivid blue surrounding them was shifting, glittering, everchanging like a kaleidoscope. She had seen that look before. It meant he was trying to hide something. Suddenly her confused mind began to click certain things into place.
‘Have you met the Llewellyns before?’ she asked softly.
‘The groom’s family?’ he replied, like a politician, skilfully evading the question, and leaned forward, trying to pretend he hadn’t evaded it. ‘Their Welsh connection just reminded me that I was missing the rugby match, that’s all.’
He switched on the radio while Clara watched him with very thoughtful eyes. He had yet to answer yes or no.
‘And England have won!’ The commentator’s voice burst out excitedly over a roaring, cheering crowd. ‘5-4 to England, knocking Wales out of the running and wiping the floor with—’
‘Great.’ Jared punched it off again but was clearly glad to have an excuse to continue in this badtempered mood. ‘Now Wales have lost. That just about makes my day.’
‘Never mind, darling. It’s only a rugby match. There’ll be others. And besides—we can go and see them play in Wales.’
He tensed and his dark lashes flickered. Clara knew in that moment that all this had something to do with Wales, although she couldn’t for the life of her figure out why meeting a Welsh family should send him into such a strange and inexplicable mood.
‘Wales…?’ he said thickly, staring at her as though she’d just grown two heads.
‘Wouldn’t it be better to see them play on their own home ground? We could drive down to Wales for the weekend and have a deliciously private holiday together, as well as supporting the team.’
‘Sounds like just what I need,’ he drawled unsteadily, avoiding her eyes and breathing a little easier.
Clara could hardly allow them both to turn up at the wedding reception of her oldest friend without first attempting to defuse his intense and explosive feelings.
‘Yes, we could go to Wales, watch the rugby, see the sights—’
‘What sights?’
‘And even visit your mother.’
His mouth tightened. ‘Oh, yes…’
Clara frowned, studying him. Three times a year his mother, Lily Blackheath, made the train trip to London alone, staying in five-star luxury at the Dorchester.
A tall, slender and striking woman, Lily had kept her hair dyed jet-black and looked much younger than her fifty-seven years. But she never visited Clara and Jared at their Regent’s Park home. Jared didn’t want her there and Lily seemed to agree with that. They had a strange relationship, mother and son. Tied to each other by ropes of steel, yet so distant with each other it was as if they were bound by some dark secret. And when Clara tried to probe, they united