Betrayed

Matthew hesitated, but after a moment he subsided into his seat again, and only the heaviness with which he did so revealed his reluctance to accede to her request. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘Talk. I’m listening.’

Olivia dragged her eyes away from his, and made an issue of detaching a slice of apricot from its sticky base. ‘It’s not that easy,’ she said, knowing she should have let him go. Playing games with Matthew Ryan was quite simply playing with fire. She knew the dangers. She knew the risks. And yet, she couldn’t seem to help herself.

‘I guess—I guess I just want us to be friends,’ she said, at last, lifting her eyes from her plate. ‘As you said, ten years is an awfully long time.’

‘No way!’ Matthew lay back in his chair, and regarded her with barely disguised hostility. ‘I said I was prepared to forget the past, and I am. But that doesn’t mean I want us to be friends.’

‘But isn’t that a contradiction in terms?’ Olivia sighed. ‘How can you say you’re prepared to forget something, and then use that something as a reason for rejecting any contact between us?’

‘I’m not interested in discussing it.’ Matthew ran an impatient hand through his hair. ‘Now, do you mind getting on with that, if you really want it?’

‘But—we’re different people,’ protested Olivia, putting down her fork and unconsciously leaning towards him. ‘You’re—married, as you say. And I’m—involved—with somebody. We don’t know anything about one another really. And—and I’d like to know about you. I would. Purely objectively, of course. Wouldn’t that be more—civilised?’

‘Civilised!’ Matthew almost choked on the word, and a wave of colour invaded his face. ‘What was ever civilised about our relationship? You don’t know the meaning of the word. You used me, Olivia. You let me think you cared about me as much as I cared about you. But you didn’t. It was all a game to you. You just wanted the experience of knowing how crazy I was about you! Well, not any more. I learned my lesson well. You won’t ever make a fool of me again.’

Olivia gasped. ‘I didn’t make a fool of you——’

‘Didn’t you?’ Matthew’s expression was bitter, and he came forward in his chair, so that he could thrust his face close to hers. ‘And I suppose having the girl you had told everyone you were going to marry clear off to the States with a guitar player wasn’t a humiliating experience?’

‘It wasn’t like that.’ Olivia shook her head. ‘You know I went as the Kramers’ nanny. Stephen Kramer wasn’t interested in me. He was far too much in love with Denise.’

‘All I know is, one minute we were talking about setting up house together, and the next you’re jumping on a plane to New York. It was pretty mortifying, I can tell you. Not to mention emotionally shattering. My God, you seduced me, Olivia! And you sit there and talk about civility!’

Olivia swallowed. ‘I—seduced you!’ She caught her breath. ‘Have you forgotten, I hadn’t even been to bed with a man, until you—until you made love to me?’

‘I didn’t make love to you, I made love with you,’ Matthew corrected her, in a low impassioned tone. ‘Oh, what’s the use? Love’s another word that doesn’t figure very highly in your vocabulary, isn’t it? Come on. Let’s go. I don’t propose to discuss this any longer.’

Pressing his palms down on the table, he got to his feet, and towered over her. ‘Are you coming?’ he demanded grimly, and Olivia bent her head. She didn’t have a lot of choice, and he knew it.

But, as she followed his stalking path to the door, resentment flared anew. Some of what he had said she could not dispute. But she refused to accept that she had been wholly responsible for the development of their relationship. Dear God, she had been a total innocent when she’d first gone to his rooms at the university. He couldn’t blame her for seducing him. Not when he had taught her all she knew about …

Her anger was instinctive, and uncontrollable. For a few brief moments indignation blinded her, and as they walked through the swing glass doors she caught his arm.

‘I don’t care what you say—you wanted me!’ she declared huskily, gazing up into his narrowed eyes, and with a muffled oath Matthew put out his hand and grasped her nape with strong, unyielding fingers.

‘I know that, dammit,’ he swore, the pressure of his fingers increasing. And then, before she truly realised what he intended to do, he bent his head and brought her lips to his.

Olivia’s senses swam. She couldn’t help it. It had happened so quickly, so unexpectedly, and the sudden heat of his mouth against her parted lips made her dizzy. In consequence, instead of pushing him away, she clutched the front of his shirt, and a button parted to allow her fingers to brush the hair-roughened skin beneath.

‘Christ!’

The revulsion of Matthew’s withdrawal was like a slap in the face, and Olivia opened her eyes to find him striding away in obvious agitation. But it was nothing compared to the agitation she was feeling, and the horror that enveloped her at the thought that, whatever she had expected, nothing had changed. Matthew was still the only man who could turn her bones to water, and that realisation was enough to make her wish she had never left New York.

A man, who looked as if he might be a sales representative, emerged from the building behind her, and paused to give her a concerned look. ‘You feeling OK?’ he asked, his eyes moving approvingly over her slim, attractive figure, and Olivia summoned up the energy to give him a tight smile.

‘Um—yes, thank you,’ she replied, after a moment. ‘Just—taking a breather, that’s all.’

‘Ah.’ The man nodded, and then, glancing over his shoulder, he added, ‘Looks as if he’s getting impatient, hmm?’

‘Who—oh!’ Olivia gasped in dismay, as she saw the Mercedes heading towards the exit. It was moving slowly, but there was no mistaking its intention, and, gesturing helplessly at the man beside her, she started after it.

A few yards from the restaurant, she broke into a run, catching up with estate car fairly easily, but not without soaking herself in perspiration. ‘You—you bastard!’ she exclaimed, jerking open the door and scrambling inside, and Matthew gave her a dark, hooded, look.

‘I can’t help it if you choose to make eyes at every man you see,’ he retorted coldly, accelerating into the filter lane, and Olivia caught her breath at the cutting accusation.

‘I was not making eyes at anyone,’ she exclaimed, struggling to fasten her seatbelt, and Matthew’s mouth twisted.

‘He didn’t get past you, though, did he?’ he taunted. ‘What did you say to him? Did you tell him I was mistreating you?’

‘No!’ Olivia glared at him. ‘As a matter of fact, he spoke to me! He asked if I was all right, that’s all.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes, really.’ Olivia found her own anger was dissipating in the face of Matthew’s obvious resentment. ‘What’s the matter?’ she demanded recklessly. ‘Are you jealous?’

He didn’t answer her. But then, she hadn’t really expected him to. So much for her hopes that she and Matthew might be able to salvage something from the wreck of their relationship, she thought wearily. All they seemed capable of doing was hurting one another. Well, he could hurt her, she appended. More than he knew, or would ever know.

Expelling a breath of air in an upward draught over her hot face, she unbuttoned the neck of her shirt. It seemed unseasonably hot for England, but then, she had just sprinted a hundred yards. It was lucky she was wearing low-heeled shoes. In high heels she’d never have made it.

Or would she? Would Matthew really have driven away and left her? Somehow, she doubted it. But perhaps she was being unduly optimistic. It was obvious he despised her—and what her incautious accusation had made him do.

Realising there was still at least another hour to go to their destination, Olivia decided to try again. After all, they could hardly arrive at her parents’ house not speaking to one another. Surely there was some way she could appeal to his common sense.

Moistening her lips, she said softly, ‘So—tell me about your wife. How long have you been married?’ And, the hardest question of all, ‘Do you have any children?’

She thought he wasn’t going to answer her. The silence between them stretched oppressively, and the heat of Olivia’s body wouldn’t subside. She told herself it was because the sun was shining, and the car was getting warm, but that wasn’t the reason. The truth was, her high temperature was self-induced, brought on by her awareness of the man behind the wheel.

And then, as she was casting about in her mind for something else to say, he said abruptly, ‘You were right, of course. I was jealous.’

It was the last thing she had expected him to say, and Olivia found it difficult to get her breath. ‘Matt——’

‘Oh, don’t worry,’ he interrupted her swiftly, his tone self-denigrating. ‘I don’t intend to do anything about it. It’s just an aberration, and I’ll get over it. I did it before, and I can do it again. I just have to keep reminding myself what a little tramp you are.’

Olivia swallowed the instinctive desire to defend herself. It was probably safer to let Matthew believe what he liked about her. Being friendly with him wasn’t going to work. Not for him; not for her; probably not for anybody.

Pressing her trembling lips together, she held up her head. ‘So,’ she said, adopting a deliberately mild tone, ‘why don’t you tell me about your wife? Who is she? Do I know her?’

Matthew gave her a contemptuous look. ‘Why should I talk to you about my wife?’ he demanded. ‘You don’t have to humour me, Olivia. I won’t embarrass you in front of your parents, if that’s what you’re afraid of.’

Olivia sighed. ‘I’m not afraid of anything,’ she retorted heavily. ‘For heaven’s sake, Matt, I’m just trying to find some common ground between us. Something we can talk about, without ending up at one another’s throats——’

‘And do you imagine talking about my marriage will accomplish that?’ Matthew demanded scathingly. ‘I hardly think so. Still, Helen is nothing like you, I can tell you that.’

‘Helen?’ Olivia frowned. ‘Not—Helen Berrenger?’

‘No. Helen Ryan,’ said Matthew succinctly. ‘We’ve been married nearly ten years.’

‘You mean …’