Passion & Pleasure. Julia James
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reassure me?’ Diane pushed back her silvery cap of hair with a restless hand. ‘Matt, I thought you loved me; I thought that one day we might—well, you know, make it legal.’
‘And I’m not saying we won’t. One day,’ said Matt steadily. ‘Come on, Diane, you know I’m right. It’s just not working right now.’
Diane regarded him from beneath her lashes. ‘And that’s all it is? This—need you have for some time alone, for some space?’
‘I swear it.’ Matt spread his hands. ‘What do you think? That there’s someone else? Goddammit, Diane, when have I had the chance to find someone else?’
‘I don’t know everything you did while you were in Abuqara,’ she protested. ‘Tony said that Abuqaran women are really beautiful—’
‘Tony!’ Matt was scathing. ‘I might have known Tony Corbett had a hand in this. Since when has he been such an expert on Abuqaran women?’
Diane shrugged a little defensively now. ‘He was only speaking objectively.’
‘I’ll bet.’
Diane pulled a face. ‘He’s my boss. He cares about me.’ She paused. ‘I’m glad he’s wrong.’
‘Yeah.’ Matt managed a faint smile in response. ‘So—what are you going to do? I’d offer to let you stay the night but only one of the rooms is furnished.’
‘We could always share—’ began Diane, and then cut herself off with a wry grimace. ‘No, scrub that. I can’t stay in any case. I’ve got a meeting with the board of governors this afternoon and I’ve promised to have dinner with Helen Wyatt this evening. She’s hopefully going to give the gallery some good publicity and I wouldn’t want to disappoint her. No, I’ll drop in on Mummy and Daddy and then I’ll head back to town. I suppose I just wanted to assure myself that the move had gone OK, to assure myself that you were all right.’ She paused. ‘And obviously you are.’
Matt inclined his head. ‘Thanks.’
Diane managed a bright smile. ‘My pleasure,’ she said, restricting herself to a quick squeeze of his arm. ‘OK, you look after yourself, right? I’ll be in touch again in a couple of days.’
The words ‘I’ll look forward to it’ stuck in Matt’s throat and he gave a rueful smile instead. ‘You take care,’ he said, as she picked up her handbag and headed towards the front door.
‘I will,’ she replied, and he felt guilty when he heard the sudden break in her voice. ‘Bye.’
‘’Bye,’ he answered roughly. But he closed his eyes against the sudden surge of relief he felt as the BMW crunched away down the drive.
‘I’ve been thinking, perhaps I could build a run for Amy’s rabbit in the garden. That way, Harvey wouldn’t be able to chase him. What do you think?’
It was a couple of days later and Fliss was making a shopping list to take to the supermarket in Westerbury when her father joined her. He had spent most of the morning editing an article he was writing about the need for care in the community, but now he came to lean on the table next to her chair.
Fliss looked up in some confusion. In all honesty, although her fingers were busy detailing the household goods and foodstuffs they needed, her mind had been far away. Well, across the churchyard actually, she conceded drily. Despite her resistance, Matthew Quinn had had that effect on her.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, blinking rapidly. ‘What did you say?’
‘The rabbit,’ said her father patiently. ‘I was wondering whether it would be a good idea for me to build it an enclosure in the garden.’
‘Oh.’ Fliss endeavoured to get her brain in gear. She hesitated. ‘Do you think you could?’
‘I dare say.’ He straightened and regarded the expanse of lawn beyond the windows. ‘We can’t keep the poor thing trapped in its hutch all day, can we?’
‘I suppose not.’ Fliss shrugged. ‘Unless I take Buttons to the animal shelter while Amy’s at school.’
‘You wouldn’t do that,’ said her father firmly. ‘OK. I think there are some slats of wood in the shed. Perhaps you could get me a roll of netting when you go into Westerbury. A couple of metres should be enough.’
‘More than enough,’ agreed Fliss drily, hoping he wouldn’t destroy her flowerbeds in the process. She got to her feet. ‘What shall we have for lunch?’
It was a quarter to two when Fliss parked the Fiesta on the lot adjoining a small retail park. A do-it-yourself outlet, an electrical store, an auction warehouse—where Fliss sometimes liked to browse—and a supermarket circled the central parking area. Fliss liked its location because it was situated at the edge of town. It meant she didn’t have to negotiate the maze of oneway streets that characterised the central part of the city.
It was hot, the grey spire of the cathedral rising tall and impressive against the vivid blue of the sky. She knew she was lucky to live in this part of the country. It was very busy at this time of year, of course, with foreign tourists and more local traffic thronging the streets and clogging up the main arteries. But it was worth it for the times when there were no visitors, and she could walk along Cathedral Close and visit the ancient church without being jostled by the crowds.
She had got what she needed from the supermarket and was stowing her shopping in the car when she saw him. He was coming out of the auction warehouse and, judging by the fact that the manager had accompanied him outside, she guessed he’d bought something substantial.
Or maybe Harry Gilchrist had recognised him. Fliss knew the man who was with him. Harry Gilchrist’s son was in the same class as Amy at the village school. A single father himself, he’d often tried to draw Fliss into conversation. He evidently thought they had a lot in common, but Fliss didn’t encourage single men. Or married men, for that matter, she thought wryly. She was happy the way she was.
Now, however, she wished she had been a little more friendly. Then she might have felt free to saunter across the car park and exchange a few words with him and Matthew Quinn. Just to find out what Quinn had been buying, she assured herself firmly. Not with any idea of presuming on what had been a very brief acquaintance.
In any case, Diane was probably with him, she thought. Just because she wasn’t visible at the moment didn’t mean she wasn’t around. It was the most natural thing in the world that a couple who were planning on setting up home together should look for suitable furniture. Yet, knowing what she did of Diane, Fliss wouldn’t have expected her to want old—albeit valuable—furnishings.
Still…
She turned back to the car and finished packing her shopping into the boot. It meant wedging things together, but she didn’t want a jumble of spilled goods when she got home. Then, closing the hatch, she straightened—and looked directly into Matthew Quinn’s eyes, staring at her from across the car park.
For a moment she was immobilised by his gaze, which seemed more penetrating than the brilliance of the sun beating down on her bare head. Had he recognised her? Was that why he was staring at her? What was she supposed to do about it? Smile? Wave? Ignore him? What?
The dilemma was taken out of her hands when he nodded in her direction. Yes, she thought, feeling the erratic quickening of her heartbeat, he had recognised her. She felt ridiculously gratified that in spite of Diane’s hostility he did remember who she was. But then, it had only been a couple of days since he’d seen her. And he had been a journalist, after all.
She’d confirmed his identity by following her father’s example, when he was researching a story for his column, and checked the Internet. And, although the pictures they’d shown of him didn’t compare to the way he looked now, she’d been left in no doubt that he was the same man. He’d been gauntfeatured and skeletally thin when he’d returned from his imprisonment in Abuqara, but the strength of character and intelligence