Pacific Heat. Anne Mather
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the exit. ‘I’ve got the car waiting.’ His lips twisted. ‘Is Diane going to get a shock when she sees you!’
‘I doubt it.’
Olivia let him escort her towards the glass doors with some reluctance. Although it was true that she had lost weight since the divorce, otherwise she looked much the same. Her hair was longer, of course. When she’d been married to Richard and working in the city, it had been easier to handle when it was shorter. But compared to Diane Haran—or should she say Diane Haig?—she was very ordinary indeed.
And no one knew that better than Richard himself.
Outside, the limousine in which she and Bonnie had travelled from the airport the previous afternoon was waiting, with Manuel at the wheel. Actually, Olivia was quite relieved to see the chauffeur. For a moment, she’d wondered if Richard had come alone. But, whether the unhappy rumours about his marriage were true or not, Diane had evidently decided they needed a chaperon. Or perhaps it was the fact that, even at this early hour of the morning, Olivia could smell the sour scent of alcohol on Richard’s breath.
Once they were in the car, she took care to put a good twelve inches of white leather between them, and Richard turned to give her a wounded look. ‘Don’t you trust me, Liv?’ he protested, making an abortive attempt to take her hand. ‘God, you didn’t used to look at me like that. What an unholy mess I’ve made of both our lives.’
Olivia caught her breath at this assertion. Although he was staring straight ahead, she prayed Manuel wasn’t listening to Richard’s maudlin complaints. Not only was he full of self-pity, but he was acting as if she shared his regrets.
And she didn’t.
Well, not really, she amended, trying to be brutally honest with herself. She couldn’t deny that she’d hoped it hadn’t been all plain sailing for him. She was human, after all, and when Kay had said his marriage to Diane was in trouble she had felt a quiver of anticipation. But she’d never expected that Richard might really want to see her. Or that he might covet what he’d lost.
‘So—how are you?’ Richard asked now, evidently deciding he’d said enough about his feelings for the present.
‘I’m fine,’ she answered, with determined brightness. ‘The jet lag’s a bit of a problem. I was awake at four o‘clock; can you believe that?’ She grimaced. ‘Thank goodness I managed to go back to sleep.’
Richard relaxed against the soft upholstery, one arm spread expansively along the back of the seat. ‘It affects different people in different ways,’ he said carelessly. ‘Myself, it’s no problem. But then, I’m used to travelling a lot.’
Olivia wound the strap of her bag round her fingers. ‘With Diane?’ she asked, and he gave her a jaded look.
‘I used to,’ he said. ‘I used to think she wanted me with her. But these days I usually stay at home.’
Olivia pressed her lips together. ‘Well, you certainly have a beautiful place to live in,’ she murmured, gazing out of the car window. She didn’t know what to say, what to think, and it was easier to talk about impersonal things. ‘Is this Beverly Hills?’ she asked as the limousine wound its way up quiet streets flanked by high hedges and stone walls. There was little to see of the estates that sprawled behind the wrought-iron security gates.
‘You’ve been in Beverly Hills since you left the hotel,’ replied Richard indifferently. ‘This whole area is known as the City of Beverly Hills. What a laugh! It’s really just the west side of Los Angeles. But people like my wife think it’s paradise on earth.’
‘Oh, I’m sure—’
‘She does. I’m telling you. Diane’s really into this West Coast lifestyle. My God, I don’t think a scrap of meat has passed her lips in the last four years! It’s all fruit and cereal and therapy and body massage. God, you don’t know how sick of it all I am, Liv. That’s why I’m so glad to have you here.’
‘Richard—’
‘It’s not real, Liv. The people who live here don’t live in the real world any more.’ He cast a disparaging glance out of the window at the walled estates. ‘Fortress America! Can you honestly say you know what all the excitement is about?’
Olivia’s lower lip curled between her teeth and she bit on it, hard. It seemed obvious that whatever comment she made Richard was going to put it down. When had he got so cynical? she wondered unhappily. She didn’t know what to say so she decided to hold her tongue.
‘I suppose I should congratulate you on your success,’ he remarked, after a moment, and once again she heard the bitterness in his voice. ‘My Liv, an author! Who’d have thought it? I told you you were wasted at that rag you used to work for.’
He hadn’t, actually. Quite the reverse, but she didn’t contradict him. She had no desire to arrive at Diane’s estate while he was in this mood. If she wasn’t careful he’d be crying on her shoulder. God knew what Diane would say if she found out
She wished he’d pull himself together and stop treating her like an accomplice. As if the only reason she’d come here was to be with him. She drew an uneven breath. She was beginning to wonder what she’d ever seen in him. Had he always blamed other people when things went wrong?
The memory of what he’d said when they’d been trying to have a family returned to haunt her. Although they’d both had tests and there’d seemed no reason why they shouldn’t have a baby, she knew he’d blamed her. And perhaps it was her fault, she reflected. They’d probably never know. And at that time she’d been far more willing to blame herself.
‘I meant what I said, you know, Liv,’ he muttered, attracting her attention. ‘I have missed you more than you’ll ever know. Leaving you was the biggest mistake I’ve ever made in my life. I wanted to tell you that right from the start.’
‘Then you shouldn’t have!’ exclaimed Olivia hotly, convinced that Manuel could hear what he was saying. He had no right to involve her in his marital problems, whatever excuse he thought he had. She chewed her lip. She suspected his confession was a deliberate attempt to gain her sympathy, and also make her a party to his resentment whether she liked it or not.
‘I can’t help myself.’ he told her now, and once again she had to suffer his efforts to touch her. His arm along the back of the seat descended onto her shoulders and she felt his fingers stroking her neck. ‘I know I hurt you, Liv, but I’m hoping you’ll find it in your heart to forgive me. The love we shared—I can’t believe we let it go.’
‘You let it go, Richard,’ said Olivia flatly, removing his arm from her shoulder and shifting onto the opposite seat. She glanced about her. ‘Is it much further?’
Richard heaved a heavy sigh. ‘No,’ he said, and although his tone was sulky Olivia was relieved. Sulky was acceptable; tearful wasn’t. She gave a slight shake of her head. She couldn’t believe this was happening to her.
The limousine began to slow a few minutes later, and as Olivia glanced round to see where they were Manuel turned between wrought-iron gates that had opened at their approach. A long curving drive confronted them, hedged with laurel and acacia, and she felt her nerves tighten as they drove up to the house.
A pillared façade of cream sandstone confronted them. Within its shadows, a shaded loggia stretched along the front of the house. Built on two floors, its many windows protected by terracotta-painted shutters, it was large and impressive, with a wealth of flowering shrubs and trees surrounding its manicured lawns.
‘Well, this is it,’ said Richard sardonically as Manuel got out of his seat to open the rear doors. The Villa Mariposa. Are you ready to meet your employer?’
‘She’s not my employer,’ said Olivia, rather too vehemently, and was annoyed when Richard’s lips curved in a knowing smile.
‘No, she’s not,’ he applauded, ‘and don’t you let her forget it.’ He clutched her arm, and she was