The Final Seduction. Sharon Kendrick
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She stood there in silence, not noticing the dark shape which had loomed up outside the plastic insert of the front door until a loud rapping made her start.
The sheer height of the man registered on her subconscious as she pulled the door open. But that didn’t stop her heart from beating like crazy when she saw it was Drew—still in navy sweater and jeans, but with no sign of the dog.
She looked into his face. It wasn’t a friendly face, but it was a face she knew and had once loved. And when you were feeling as vulnerable as Shelley was, feeling that familiarity was a potent and dangerous quality.
‘Hello, Drew,’ she gulped. ‘I certainly wasn’t expecting you to be my first caller.’
His mouth flattened into a grim sort of smile. ‘Believe me, I wasn’t planning on being your first visitor.’
‘So why are you here?’
‘Curiosity, mainly,’ he answered slowly. ‘And a phone call from my sister. She insisted I come.’
‘Which sister?’
‘Jennie.’
‘Oh.’ Shelley wondered if the regret showed in her face. Because she and Jennie had been the best friends in the world. Until the Marco incident—when, naturally enough, she had taken her brother’s side. They hadn’t seen one another or spoken a word since. ‘How did she know I was here?’
‘She’s your neighbour. She lives in our old house. And that’s next door, in case you’ve forgotten.’
‘Jennie lives next door?’
Was this the same Jennie who had called Milmouth a fading seaside dump with no soul? Who had called their small houses rabbit hutches and couldn’t wait to get as far away as possible? Shelley’s eyes widened with surprise. ‘You mean, with your parents?’
‘No, no.’ He shook his head impatiently. ‘They retired to the Isle of Wight. And Cathy’s living in London.’
‘So how’s Jennie?’ she dared ask.
‘Well, probably more pleased than I am that you’ve come crawling back—’
‘No, not crawling, Drew. With my head held very high.’
‘If you say so.’ But his eyes glittered as though he didn’t quite believe her.
She took a deep breath. ‘Drew?’
He threw her a mocking look. ‘Shelley?’
‘Do you know who has been responsible for doing the garden?’
There was a pause. ‘My sister.’
‘Your sister?’ Shelley frowned. ‘Jennie must have changed quite a bit if she’s into gardening.’
He laughed. ‘She doesn’t do it herself. She gets someone in for a few hours a week and asked them to keep yours tidy at the same time.’ He turned the corners of his mouth down. ‘Otherwise it made the place look overgrown and derelict.’
‘It looks gorgeous,’ she said wistfully.
He didn’t respond to that, just fixed her with that dazzling blue stare. ‘So where’s lover-boy?’
‘I do wish you wouldn’t keep calling him names!’ she told him crossly, then sighed. There was no point in lying. Not to Drew. You only made that kind of mistake once in a lifetime. ‘He isn’t here.’
‘I know. Do you really think I would have come around if he was lurking around upstairs waiting for you?’
‘How could you possibly know that?’
‘My sister said there was only one person in the car.’
‘So Jennie couldn’t wait to bad-mouth my arrival?’
He shook his head. ‘Actually, no. She saw your car—only she didn’t realise that it was your car—and rang me, just in case—’
‘In case of what?’ Shelley interrupted angrily. ‘In case someone in a car happened to be visiting a house? Gosh, I’d forgotten all about how effective the Milmouth mafia could be!’
This seemed to amuse him. ‘It depends on how you look at it, surely? Either you find it a repressive, small-town mentality—in which case I wonder why you came back at all—or you appreciate the fact that someone is there looking out for you. If you were a woman, living on her own…as Jennie is…’ he paused thoughtfully ‘…and a car you didn’t recognise stopped outside a house which had been empty for the last two years—then you’d be pretty dumb not to investigate, wouldn’t you? Particularly if—’ and his eyes narrowed with something very like distaste as he half turned his head in the direction of the gleaming grey car which stood outside ‘—the car in question looked glaringly out of place.’
‘And what’s wrong with the car?’
‘Nothing’s wrong with it,’ he shrugged. ‘It’s just a bit of a cliché, isn’t it?’
She knitted her carefully plucked brows at him. ‘You’re calling one of the most aerodynamically superior vehicles in the world a cliché?’
‘It’s nothing but an executive toy,’ he said damningly. ‘It reeks of flash and cash, but without much substance. So what was it, Shelley? The pay-off?’
The most galling thing was that he had shrewdly hit on a nerve. ‘Mind your own business!’
‘Is it all over between you?’ he persisted softly. ‘Why isn’t he here with you?’
Well, she supposed that it was going to come out sooner or later. ‘He isn’t here because, yes, it’s over.’
‘You won’t be going back?’
‘No.’ The word fell heavily, like a stone into a pond.
‘So what happened?’
She looked at him in surprise. ‘I don’t have to answer that.’
‘No, you’re right.’ His eyes glittered. ‘You don’t. But you might want to answer this—which is whether you were intending to come back to a house that hadn’t been aired for years, with no running water or electricity. You can’t have a bath. You can’t flush the loo. You can’t even heat yourself a can of soup.’ He gave her a look of cool mockery. ‘That wasn’t very clever of you, was it, Shelley?’
‘I left Italy in a…hurry.’
‘So I see.’ His eyes flicked over the crumpled linen suit. ‘Kicked you out, did he?’
She turned away, but not before he had seen the tears well up in her eyes. Tears of fatigue which made her feel like some sad, foolish little cast-off. She swallowed them down. ‘Why are you here, Drew—just to insult me? To rile me? Because I can do without it at the moment, if you don’t mind.’
‘I’ll tell you exactly why I’m here,’ he told her quietly. ‘Because not only is it Sunday, it is also late October. Now, you may have pushed all memories of Milmouth away during your three-year absence, so allow me to remind you that the weather isn’t particularly welcoming by the sea at this time of year. There’s no way you can stay here tonight. You’ll freeze. And you won’t get water and electricity connected until tomorrow at the very earliest.’
His cool logic made her want to scream at him—mainly because he was right. ‘If you’re expecting me to fall to my knees in front of you and beg you for help then I’m sorry to disappoint you.’
His eyebrows disappeared into the honey-tipped hair. ‘Fall to your knees in front of me any time you like, kitten,’ he said deliberately. ‘You don’t even have to beg!’
Her cheeks flared at the sexual insinuation, but she still managed to meet his gaze with defiance. ‘I’ll