Shattered Illusions

‘It is!’

Dominic’s jaw compressed, and the urge to ignore his scruples and take her in his arms almost overcame his common sense. But for all he was desperate to make love to her this wasn’t the time. He owed his father much more than a lousy twelve months’ grace.

‘Then why—?’

‘Look, we’ll have breakfast together, right?’ he interrupted her tersely. ‘It’s too early in the day to have a conversation like this. I’ll speak to Sophie while you go and put some clothes on. Besides, didn’t you tell me you’d be having breakfast with your new assistant? You can’t let her down.’

‘But you can let me down, it seems,’ retorted Catriona coldly, tightening the cord of her robe about her slim waist. ‘You’re a cruel bastard, Dom. Sometimes I wonder why I care about you so much.’

Dominic sighed. ‘Cat—’

‘Don’t say anything more.’ Catriona held up a quelling hand, and walked haughtily towards the door. ‘And don’t bother joining us for breakfast. As you say, my work—or in this case my assistant—must come first.’

Dominic grimaced as she disappeared, but although he was sure he would pay for it later he didn’t regret having made a stand. During the past twelve months, his relationship with Catriona had developed faster than even he could have imagined, and he knew it was time to slow it down.

It was strange—he could remember the first time he’d seen Catriona as if it were yesterday. He’d been fifteen years old at the time, home from school in Boston, spending his summer swimming and sailing, and loafing around the house.

He’d been used to being on his own in those days. His mother had been killed in a freak skiing accident when he was only six, and his father had coped with his grief by burying himself in his work. The publishing house in New York, which Dominic’s grandfather had founded, had kept him busy, and Lawrence Redding had never really learned how to delegate.

Catriona—Markham, as she was known then—had been a young author from England. She’d written a couple of rather poor detective novels that hadn’t found a publisher, and her agent had sent her latest manuscript to Goldman and Redding in New York in the hope of appealing to the lucrative American market.

Dominic didn’t know if his father had considered that first manuscript might be worthy of publication, or whether, on meeting her, he’d just been blinded by the woman’s beauty. In any event, six months later she’d become Mrs Lawrence Redding, and six months after that her first romantic historical novel had been published under the name of Catriona Redding.

He knew it had been his father’s influence which had first made her books so successful. With the promotion he’d given that first book and Catriona’s own personality sparkling on every talk-show nationwide, it would have been hard to fail. Dominic knew from his own experience that it wasn’t always the book itself that put it on the best-seller lists. But it had been the second and all the subsequent successes that had made Catriona Redding a household name. In writing romantic historicals she had found her niche, and each new title had attracted more and more readers.

It would have been ungracious not to admit that Goldman and Redding had benefited greatly from the alliance, but, as Catriona frequently said when she was interviewed, she owed her success to Larry for pointing her in the right direction. And, although towards the end of her husband’s life Catriona had often spoken of the possible advantages of writing for a larger publishing house, she had never actually deserted her husband’s firm.

His own reaction to acquiring a new stepmother was not something Dominic was particularly proud of. He’d always thought she was too young for his father, and, at sixteen, he’d just been beginning to explore his own sexuality. He could—and had—defended his attraction to her by pointing out her own culpability. For all she’d remained faithful to his father, she had done nothing to diffuse his fascination.

Indeed, he’d sometimes wondered what she would have done if he’d had less respect for his father. There was no doubt that she’d enjoyed flirting with him, and she’d begun to regard him as a permanent fixture in her life. Although she was about ten years older than he was, she’d always behaved as if they had more in common than she and his father, and only when Lawrence was present had she behaved as a stepmother should.

It had been easier when he’d gone away to college. Away from Catriona’s influence, he’d begun to notice other women, and when he was twenty-two he’d married the sister of one of his college friends. Mary Beth was sweet and gentle, everything Catriona was not, and although his parents had attended the wedding Catriona had soon made it plain that his wife was not welcome at Copperhead Bay.

She hadn’t said it in so many words, of course. It was still his father’s house, and Lawrence Redding had taken quite a shine to his new daughter-in-law. But Catriona had disliked Mary Beth on sight, and had lost no opportunity to belittle her. Or to show her hostility, Dominic conceded grimly, so that even Mary Beth was made aware of it, and had refused to go where she wasn’t wanted.

It had made things impossible for him—as it had been intended to do—but instead of blaming Catriona Dominic had blamed his wife. He’d convinced himself that she must have done something to offend his stepmother, and Mary Beth had eventually forced him to choose between his family and herself.

It had been no contest, he mused now, half-bitterly. His infatuation for his stepmother had been too strong, and Catriona, damn her, had known that from the start. Apart from anything else, she’d banked on the fact that he’d do nothing to hurt his father—even if he had drawn the line at being involved in the production of his stepmother’s books.

His father’s sudden death of a heart attack at the age of sixty-four had changed a lot of things. Not least the fact that Catriona was now free to do whatever she liked. Less than three months after his father’s funeral, she had let Dominic know that she knew how he had always felt about her, and that there was no reason now for her to deny the fact that she reciprocated his feelings. She’d said she’d always known that her marriage to Lawrence Redding had been a mistake, but that luckily she still had plenty of time to make amends.

But that had been too much, even for Dominic. Coming close on the heels of the unwelcome news that his father had expected him to take over as nominal head of Goldman and Redding, he had felt stifled. He had never wanted to work for his father’s firm, and although his feelings for Catriona hadn’t lessened they had altered. He still wanted her, of course he did. But he had no intention of abusing his father’s memory by bedding his widow almost before he was cold in his grave.

But the fact remained that, although Catriona had inherited the house on Bermuda, where she’d written all her best-sellers, and the bulk of his father’s personal fortune, Lawrence Redding had left the publishing company to his son. And although Dominic had trained as a lawyer, not an editor, and had been working for a successful firm of attorneys in Boston at the time of his father’s death, he’d felt obliged to resign his position and move to New York.

Which was probably the biggest mistake he’d ever made, he conceded now, pushing his hands back into his pockets and staring broodingly over the pool. With Catriona as his client—as well as his would-be lover—he was struggling. He knew as well as anyone that if he offended Catriona, and she found an alternative publisher, Goldman and Redding would suffer.

But what else could he have done, given the terms of his father’s last will and testament? Lawrence Redding had wanted him to take over the running of the company; he’d wanted him to produce Catriona’s books in his place. God, hadn’t he ever suspected how Dominic felt about her? Or was this his way of showing that the two of them had his blessing?

Dominic scowled. There really was no reason for him to continue resisting the inevitable. Catriona was right; it was over a year since his father’s death. There was nothing—and no one—to prevent him from making them both happy. So why didn’t he go upstairs now and finish what he’d started a few minutes ago?

But still he stayed there, and presently a pair of curiously knowing grey eyes drifted across his inner vision. He wondered how Catriona’s solemn-faced secretary would react if she knew what he was thinking. Would she get some vicarious thrill from picturing them together, or would she be disgusted by the overtones of incest inherent in the relationship?

The latter, he suspected brusquely, the urge to go and give Catriona what she wanted rapidly fading. The moment when he might have given in was past, and his mood had darkened. Deciding to forgo breakfast, he pushed the door open again and left the building. In this frame of mind, he was better on his own.

CHAPTER THREE (#u84c4cdc0-72c1-5c02-8dfe-c494ec15e984)

‘DO YOU drive?’

Jaime looked up with a start. Something, some sixth sense perhaps, had warned her she was no longer alone, and she slipped the earphones down around her neck. She had spent the afternoon transcribing the tape of letters Catriona Redding had recorded that morning, and she blamed the fact that she was tired for the disturbing ripple of awareness that spread along her veins at that moment.

Dominic Redding was propped in the doorway of the small office that adjoined Catriona’s study, his hip lodged against one side of the frame, his hand braced against the other. He looked as if he’d been working out: his cotton shorts were clinging to the powerful muscles of his thighs and his grey vest was soaked with sweat. She could smell the heat of his body, even though there were several feet between them. It was not an unpleasant scent, but the knowledge of what she was thinking brought an unwilling trace of colour to her cheeks.

‘Um—what did you—?’

She hadn’t seen him since the previous morning, when he’d come upon her so unexpectedly beside the pool, and she’d begun to think he must have left the island. He’d told her he lived in New York, after all, and surely he couldn’t have much in common with his stepmother.

‘I asked if you could drive,’ he repeated, at her stammering response, and Jaime knew her prevarication had been necessary. She wasn’t used to being disconcerted by a man, and this man put the kind of thoughts into her head that she hadn’t had since she was a teenager. For heaven’s sake, she chided herself, irritated by this evidence of what she regarded as her own immaturity. She’d been holding her own in the male-dominated world of the university since she was eighteen. What on earth was wrong with her now?

Dominic Redding was speaking again, and she forced herself to concentrate on what he was saying. ‘Catriona seldom uses a car herself, and I thought you might be interested in seeing a little more of the island. It’s Saturday tomorrow, so I guess it’s your day off.’

‘Yes.’

‘Yes, what?’ His dark eyes were unerringly intent. ‘Yes, you can drive, or yes, you’d like to see more of the island? There’s a twenty miles an hour speed limit in operation if you’re nervous.’

‘I’m not nervous.’ Jaime was used to driving her father about London, but she didn’t want to go into that. ‘And yes, I can drive. I’ve been driving for—well, for years.’

‘Great.’ A lock of damp dark hair flopped onto his forehead and he thrust it back with an impatient hand. ‘So—how does the idea grab you? I believe the shops in Hamilton are pretty good.’

Jaime let her hands rest on the keys of the word processor, taking care not to put any weight on them. It was kind of him to think of her, she thought, trying to get his suggestion in perspective. Two days of working for Catriona had persuaded her that she would be unlikely to think of such a thing. Catriona was, quite simply, the most self-motivated person she had ever met.

‘I—it sounds good,’ she answered at last. ‘But I’m not sure if Miss Redding will expect me to work.’

‘Well, okay.’ He shrugged. ‘Let me know if you decide to take me up on it. There’s an open-topped four-by-four that’s seldom used.’

‘Thank you.’

Jaime was grateful—and for the interruption, too. She had been typing almost solidly for the past couple of hours, and for someone who was more used to grading essays the consistent glare of the computer screen was tiring. Her eyes were probably red-rimmed with exhaustion, she thought gloomily, wondering what Dominic Redding must think of her. Not that it mattered, she assured herself with feeling. He was not the kind of man who attracted her.

‘You’re welcome.’

His drawling response was vaguely ironic, but she hardly had time to evaluate his humour before the door to Catriona Redding’s study was jerked open. ‘For heaven’s sake, Miss Harris,’ she was exhorting as she stormed into her secretary’s room, ‘must I remind you that I’m trying to work in—? Oh!’ This as she saw who Jaime had been talking to. Her tone changed to one of guarded approval. ‘Dominic!’ She moistened her lips. ‘Were you looking for me?’

‘Oh, I think I’d know where to find you,’ he replied, with a strangely mocking expression on his face. ‘No. As a matter of fact, I came to see your secretary. I’ve offered her the use of the Toyota.’

Catriona’s mouth tightened. ‘Have you really?’ she remarked, linking her long fingers together at her waist. ‘I don’t recall you asking my permission.’

Dominic’s eyes narrowed. ‘I didn’t think it was necessary.’