A Rich Man's Touch

She had gone out with Andrew for over three months, it was true, but although she’d been distressed when he’d let her down, her feelings of betrayal had had more to do with Hannah than herself. She couldn’t believe she’d let a man like him get close to her, and it had been pride as much as anything that had allowed her to let her friends think that Andrew’s father had broken them up.

‘You can’t expect me to believe that you had any of—of this in mind that first time you came into the café,’ she said at last, and a shrug of his shoulders conceded the point.

‘No, that’s right,’ he agreed. ‘I don’t deny it. I had some time to kill, the café was there, and I’ll admit to being curious to meet the woman who had made such a lasting impression on my son.’

Rachel’s lips twisted. ‘Yeah, right.’

‘It’s true.’ Gabriel studied her disbelieving face. ‘Andrew doesn’t usually remember his conquests, but you evidently had quite an effect on him.’

‘Hannah did, you mean,’ said Rachel tersely. ‘I’m surprised he told you about her. I wouldn’t have thought it was something he’d want to brag about.’

‘Did I say he bragged about it?’ Gabriel sighed. ‘It wasn’t like that.’

‘And he suddenly told you this, out of the blue, just a few weeks ago?’ Rachel sat back in her seat. ‘Why would he?’

‘Because I’d told him I was coming back to Kingsbridge,’ said Gabriel heavily. ‘If you must know, he was drunk at the time, or I doubt he’d have said anything.’

‘That figures.’ Rachel was sardonic. ‘So that’s why you came into the café: to find out if he’d been telling the truth.’

‘That was not why I came into the café,’ insisted Gabriel. ‘All right; I’ve told you I was curious to meet you. But, believe me, I felt nothing but disgust when Andrew told me how he felt about Hannah. Until then I’d had no idea that my son was such a—a—’

‘Bigot?’ suggested Rachel wryly, but Gabriel only shook his head.

‘Such a bastard,’ he said forcefully. Then, because this was evidently not the way he wanted the conversation to go, he put his beer aside and regarded her with those disturbing dark eyes. ‘I can only apologise for my son and hope that you can forgive his ignorance. As far as I’m concerned, I’d like to put the past behind us.’

‘Behind us?’ Rachel felt slightly incredulous. ‘There is no us, Mr Webb.’

‘Not yet.’

‘Not ever,’ she declared unsteadily, suddenly in a panic to get out of there. ‘I have to go,’ she added, sliding to the end of the booth. ‘Thank you for the drink—’

‘Rachel!’ Before she could get to her feet, lean brown fingers closed about her wrist. ‘Please. Hear me out.’

‘I can’t.’ Her agitation was too great to allow her to accept his request. ‘I’m sorry. I—my mother will be expecting me. She gets worried if I’m late.’

‘I’ll take you home,’ he said flatly. ‘Don’t ask me how, but I know your mother uses your car to take Hannah to and from her school. You either walk home or take the bus. Am I right?’

Rachel stared at him. ‘You’ve been following us?’

‘Not me, no,’ said Gabriel reluctantly, releasing her arm and sagging back in his seat, as if the effort of restraining her had exhausted him. ‘Now I suppose you’ll accuse me of stalking you?’

Rachel didn’t know what to say. The panic that had appeared so abruptly had given way to a curious sense of anticipation, and although she knew she ought to be angry with him, there was something about his sudden capitulation that was oddly appealing.

‘Why?’ she asked helplessly. ‘Why are you doing this?’

‘I wish to God I knew,’ he said in response, a mocking twist to his mouth. ‘Believe me, I’m not in the habit of pursuing my son’s ex-girlfriends. And, although I was curious about you, I had no intention of making a nuisance of myself.’

‘You haven’t…’ Rachel spoke impulsively and then wished she hadn’t. ‘I mean—I didn’t say that.’

‘But you probably thought it, hmm?’

Rachel shrugged. ‘I don’t understand what you—what you want of me.’

Gabriel’s eyes narrowed. ‘Is it so inconceivable that I might find your company enjoyable?’

‘Frankly, yes.’ Rachel was honest.

‘Because you think I’m too old to have a sexual relationship?’

A sexual relationship!

Rachel swallowed, too shocked to offer a rational defence. Falling back on platitudes, she murmured, ‘You’re not old.’

‘I wish I could believe you meant that.’ He paused. ‘How old are you, Rachel? Twenty-four? Twenty-five? I can give you twenty years at least.’

‘I’m twenty-eight,’ said Rachel shortly. ‘Andrew is three years younger than me.’

‘And I’m seventeen years older.’ He arched a dark brow. ‘Twenty years! Seventeen! It’s still an awfully long time, isn’t it?’

‘Who are you trying to convince?’ she asked, forced to argue with him, and then flushed at the familiarity in her tone. ‘I’m sorry. But you did ask.’

‘Hey, don’t apologise.’ Gabriel was unconcerned. ‘I’m encouraged that you feel able to relax with me.’ He lifted his beer to his lips, watching her the whole time. Then, after putting it down again, he added, ‘I like it.’

Rachel felt totally out of her depth. ‘You know, I really do have to go,’ she said at last, glancing at her watch. ‘There’s a bus that leaves in exactly five minutes—’

‘I’ve said I’ll take you home,’ Gabriel reminded her. ‘Please. Let me. I want to.’

Rachel’s limbs melted. It was all too easy to imagine him using those same words in an entirely different context—an entirely sexual context, she acknowledged unsteadily—and it was incredibly difficult to remember that this man was—could be—her enemy.

‘It’s not necessary,’ she began, but he was already out of the booth and offering her his hand to help her to her feet.

‘Let me be the judge of that,’ he said, the expression in his eyes telling her that he knew exactly why she’d pretended not to see his gesture. ‘Shall we go?’

CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_8ac1f6c1-8a47-5211-ac26-e10e2dce08f9)

AN ENORMOUS bouquet of flowers was delivered to the café the following morning. It contained roses and irises, freesias and carnations, and many other species Rachel couldn’t identify. Stephanie thought that some of the more exotic blooms were orchids, but Rachel was simply overwhelmed by the size and beauty of the bouquet.

There was a card attached but, as if he was aware that his gift would be contentious enough, Gabriel had merely signed his initials and left her to explain why he’d sent them.

‘You mean, you actually went out with him last night and you weren’t going to say anything?’ Stephanie asked accusingly, when her friend was obliged to explain that she had seen Gabriel Webb again.

‘It wasn’t that important,’ Rachel protested, cradling the bouquet defensively. ‘We had a drink together after I closed the café. That was all.’

‘All?’ Stephanie shook her head. ‘But surely you knew that I’d find out sooner or later? Your mother’s bound to mention it.’

‘Mum doesn’t know,’ admitted Rachel reluctantly. ‘I—I had him drop me at the end of Maple Avenue.’

Stephanie’s jaw dropped. ‘Why?’