Bedroom Bargains of Revenge: Bought for Revenge, Bedded for Pleasure / Bedded and Wedded for Revenge / The Italian Boss's Mistress of Revenge. Trish Morey
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she believed him, remembering how she had hung on to him, virtually inviting what had followed.
“And I forgot to use protection,” he added pointedly.
It was like a knife to her heart. Was he thinking she had lured him into her bed, pulling him into an intimacy with the intention of getting pregnant? Her whole body tensed with horror. Had he left when he’d realised what he’d done, repulsed by the idea he’d fallen into the trap her mother had laid out?
“Jack, it was safe! I swear to you it was!” she cried vehemently. “I’m on the pill!”
She hadn’t planned last night, either, but the very day after her mother had left the property, she’d gone to her local doctor and got a prescription for the pill, determined not to be caught out if she did succumb to the strong attraction of Jack Maguire. She was not going to use a baby to tie him to her financially or any other way.
“Well, that should be safe enough.” His voice had a sardonic ring to it as he added, “I’d hate you not to be fit for competing in the World Cup.”
Relief poured through her. He didn’t seem to be doubting her word. Nevertheless, the reference to her showjumping might mean he intended to distance himself from her, not risk getting trapped again. It took a huge effort to respond to him normally. “It’s only the start of the season, Jack. I’ll have to perform well at every event.”
“Great start! I’m glad I was there to see it.”
He did sound glad. Maybe she was overreacting. Needing more assurance that all was well between them, she asked, “When will I see you again?”
“Probably next weekend. I’ll let you know.”
That sounded too casual, too vague. She’d be on tenterhooks until he did call her. She took a deep breath and tried to pour warmth into her voice. “I hope you have a good week, Jack, and thank you for making yesterday more special.”
“You’re a very special lady, Sally Maguire. ‘Bye for now.”
“‘Bye,” she echoed, then lay there in the bed he’d shared with her so intimately last night, holding the receiver to her thumping heart, hoping that being “a very special lady” did not set her apart in a bad way. She desperately wanted it to mean he believed her innocent of any rotten plotting and would make the effort to be with her again as soon as he could. A week was not very long, not when his business life was tied to the city.
She finally pushed herself to get up, shower, dress and present herself to the world Jack had allowed her to keep for a year because he wanted to experience her. Though whether he wanted to keep experiencing her was the burning question.
Jeanette was in the kitchen, as expected, drinking a cup of tea and reading a Sunday newspaper. She looked up as Sally entered. “Ah! Ready for breakfast?”
“Mmm. Big appetite, too.” She felt terribly empty and very much in need of comfort food. “I’ll have the lot this morning, bacon, eggs, fried tomato, mushrooms if we’ve got them.”
“Coming up.” Jeanette rose from her kitchen stool to busy herself at the stove, throwing Sally a curious look. “Not like you to sleep in this long. I wouldn’t have put that call through except it was Mr. Maguire.”
Sally shrugged off the query, not wanting to explain too much. “Big day yesterday.”
Jeanette smiled. “Tim told us you won the main event. Congratulations!”
“Thanks.”
“And that Mr. Maguire was there to watch you, taking you out to dinner and bringing you home.” This was delivered with an arch look.
“Yes. He did.” Sally hitched herself onto the stool the housekeeper had vacated, trying to look casually relaxed.
“But he didn’t stay,” Jeanette pressed.
“No. He had to get back to Sydney. He was just calling to say he’ll probably be here next weekend.”
“I’ll let everyone know.” She fetched the breakfast items from the refrigerator while the frying pan was heating up and nodded to the coffee machine. “Pour yourself a cup. It’s freshly made, ready for you.”
“You spoil me, Jeannette.” Sally tossed her a smile as she moved to help herself to coffee.
“You’ve always been a good girl,” Jeannette said approvingly, then a pause before the probing comment, “Tim says Mr. Maguire is very taken with you.”
Her heart lifted at hearing the observation, but if Jack believed he had been taken by her … she savagely wished this pregnancy issue had never come up.
“I like him, too. Very much,” she answered.
It drew a look of anxious concern. “Do you think it will be all right, Sally? I mean … it’s sort of complicated with the property and all.”
It was a sobering point of view, and a valid one. What would happen if the relationship between her and Jack fell apart, if his interest in her was satisfied faster than Sally cared to think about? Like right now!
“I don’t know, Jeanette,” she answered, trying to quell a sudden rush of panic at the thought of being abandoned because she’d wanted him to love her. “Whatever happens between us, I don’t believe for a minute Jack would break the contract we’ve signed, so we can count on being here for the full year.” With him, or without him.
“Yes. There’s that. And who knows?” She threw Sally a hopeful smile. “Maybe it will work out very happily.”
That was well and truly a pipedream at the moment, but Sally couldn’t bring herself to throw a wet blanket over it. She was head-over-heels in love with the man. Even though he’d told her straight out that love and marriage was not on his agenda, people could and did change their minds. Last night, the deep connection she had felt with him had consumed any concern she might have had over doing something wrong. If he had felt it, too.
“Where did you have dinner?” Jeannette asked.
Relating that experience was easier than answering questions about Jack—questions she didn’t know the answers for anyway. The dinner at Kirkton Park and the showjumping filled the rest of the conversation over breakfast.
Then Jane rang, wanting to know if she’d scored for the World Cup, and she relived the excitement of her success for her sister. It kept playing through her mind whether or not to tell Jane everything that was happening. They’d never kept secrets from each other. Yet she didn’t want to hear a whole lot of worrywart stuff, which the confiding of her feelings for Jack Maguire would inevitably draw because of their mother’s poisonous view of the situation.
It was Jane who finally brought him up. “Do you know when to expect another visit from Jack?”
“He called this morning to say he’d probably come next weekend,” she answered, trying to sound matter-of-fact and feeling awkward about not sharing.
It was too new, she argued to herself. And it might have already ended for Jack. If he did come next weekend, and he left her still feeling like this about him, she would tell her sister then and deal with the gush of concern.
“Is it okay if I come to visit, too?” Jane asked. “I’d like to meet him on home ground.”
Sally’s chest instantly tightened. She didn’t want Jane watching over her with Jack. It would be inhibiting. Besides, there was Jack’s embargo on Jane’s visits, as well.
“You can be with me as often as you like, but he doesn’t want you here when he is, Jane,” she stated flatly. “He said so from the start. Maybe he’ll soften on that point as time goes on, but I think it’s too soon to try changing the conditions he laid down.”
A short, tense silence.
Sally felt miserably guilty for shutting Jane out, yet she didn’t want family