A Yuletide Seduction

That success meant she could afford to rent this apartment; it was completely open-plan, with polished wood floors, scatter rugs, antique furniture, and no television, because not only did she not have the time to watch it, but she didn’t like it either, her relaxation time spent listening to her extensive music collection, and reading the library of books that took up the whole of one wall. It was all completely, uniquely her own, and her idea of heaven on an evening off wasn’t to go out partying as she would once have done, but to sit and listen to one of her favourite classical music tapes while rereading one of her many books.

But somehow those last three messages on her answer machine seemed even to have invaded the peace and tranquillity of her home…

Much as she liked Felicity and felt sorry for the other woman, she simply couldn’t return that beseeching telephone call.

She just couldn’t…!

She was tired by the time she returned to her apartment at one o’clock the following morning. The dinner party had been a success, but the reason for her weariness was the disturbance in her personal life over the last twenty-four hours.

The answer machine was flashing repeatedly—one, two, three, four, five, six, she counted warily. How many of those calls would be from Gabriel Vaughan?

Or was she becoming paranoid? The man she had met the evening before did not look as if he had to chase after any woman, least of all one who cooked for other people for a living! And yet on the second of those last recorded messages he had said he would ‘try again later’!

Jane sighed. She was tired. It was late. And she wanted to go to bed. But would she be able to sleep, knowing that there were six messages on her machine that hadn’t been listened to?

Probably not, she conceded with impatient anger. She didn’t like this. Not one little bit. She deeply resented Gabriel Vaughan’s intrusion, but at the same time she was annoyed at her own reaction to it. She was not about to live in fear ever again. This was her home, damn it, her space, and Gabriel Vaughan was not welcome in it. He certainly wasn’t going to invade it.

She reached out and firmly pushed the ‘play’ button on the answermachine.

‘Hello, Jane, Richard Warner here. Felicity wanted me to call you. She’s been taken into hospital. The doctor thinks she may lose the baby. I—she—Thank you for all your help last night.’ The message came to an abrupt end, Richard Warner obviously not knowing what else to say.

Because there was nothing else to say, Jane realised numbly. What had Gabriel Vaughan said to Richard, what had he done, to have created such—?

No!

She couldn’t become involved. She dared not risk—dared not risk—She just didn’t dare!

But Felicity had called her earlier today, feeling that in some way she needed Jane. And, from Richard’s call just now, the other woman had been proved right! Could Jane now just ignore this call for help? Or was it already too late…?

She couldn’t change anything even if she did return Richard’s call. What could she do? She would be the last person Gabriel Vaughan would listen to—even if she reversed her own decision about never wanting to speak to him again.

But what about Felicity…?

It was almost one-thirty in the morning now—too late to call either Richard or the hospital; she doubted the nurses on duty at the latter would volunteer any information about Felicity, anyway. She would go to bed, get a good night’s sleep, and try calling Richard in the morning. Maybe Felicity’s condition would be a little more positive by then.

Or maybe it wouldn’t.

She absently listened to the rest of her messages, curious now about the other five calls.

They were all business calls, not a single one in the Transatlantic drawl she had quickly come to recognise—and dread—as being that of Gabriel Vaughan. And after those two calls this morning within an hour of each other his silence this evening did not reassure her. It unnerved her!

‘She’s—stable—that’s how the doctor described her condition to me this morning,’ Richard Warner told Jane in answer to her early morning telephone query about Felicity. ‘Whatever that means,’ he added disgustedly.

‘What happened, Richard?’ Jane prompted abruptly.

This call was against her better judgement; it came completely from the softness of emotions that she must never allow to rule her a second time. But she couldn’t, she had decided in the clear light of day, simply ignore Felicity’s and Richard’s telephone calls.

‘What do you think? Gabriel Vaughan is what happened!’ Richard told her bitterly—and predictably!

Gabriel Vaughan seemed to just sail through life, sweeping away anything and anyone who should happen to stand in his way. And at the moment Richard Warner was in his way. Tomorrow, next week, next month, it would be someone else completely, any consequences that might follow Gabe’s actions either ignored or simply unknown to him.

‘I would really rather not talk about it, Jane,’ Richard added agitatedly. ‘At the moment my company is in chaos, my wife is in hospital—and just talking about Gabriel Vaughan makes my blood-pressure rise! I’ll tell Felicity you rang,’ he added wearily. ‘And once again, thank you for all your help.’ He rang off.

And a lot of good her help had done them, Jane sighed as she replaced her own receiver. Gabriel Vaughan had happened—who else…? What else? He was a man totally without—

Jane almost fell off her chair as the telephone beside her began to ring. Eight-fifteen. It was only eight-fifteen in the morning; she had deliberately telephoned Richard Warner this early so that she could speak to him before he either left for the office or the hospital. But she wasn’t even dressed yet herself, let alone taken her run; who on earth—?

Suddenly she knew exactly who. And, after her recent calls from the Warners, and her conversation with Richard just now, she was in exactly the right frame of mind to talk to him!

She snatched up the receiver. ‘Yes?’ she snapped, all of her impatience evident in that single word.

‘I didn’t get you out of bed, did I, Jane Smith?’ Gabriel Vaughan returned in his mocking drawl.

Her hand tightened about the receiver. She had known it was him—it couldn’t have been anyone else, in the circumstances!—but even so she couldn’t help her instant recoil just at the sound of his voice.

She drew in a steadying breath. ‘No, Mr Vaughan,’ she answered calmly, ‘you didn’t get me out of bed.’ And, remembering what she had once been told about this man, she knew that he had probably already been up for hours, that he only needed three or four hours’ sleep a night.

‘I didn’t—interrupt anything, did I?’ he continued derisively.

‘Only my first coffee of the morning,’ she bit out tersely.

‘How do you take it?’

‘My coffee?’ she returned, frowning.

‘Your coffee,’ he confirmed, laughter evident in his voice now.

‘Black, no sugar,’ she came back tautly—and then wished she hadn’t. In retrospect, she could think of only one reason why he would be interested in how she liked her first cup of coffee of the morning!

‘I’ll make sure I remember that,’ Gabriel Vaughan assured her huskily.

‘I’m sure you didn’t call me to find out how I take my coffee,’ Jane snapped, sure that he remembered most things.

Except that other her, it seemed But how long would that last? Three years on, and not only did she look different, she was different, but Gabriel Vaughan had a very good reason for remembering everything that had happened three years ago, leading her to believe that his memory lapse where she was concerned would not continue. She had no doubt there would be no flirtatious early morning telephone calls then!

‘You’re wrong there, Jane Smith,’ he murmured throatily now. ‘You see, I want to know everything about you that there is to know—including how you take your coffee!’

Jane’s breath left her in a shaky sigh, her hand tightening painfully about the receiver. ‘I’m an extremely boring individual, I can assure you, Mr Vaughan,’ she told him abruptly.

‘Gabe,’ he put in smoothly. ‘And I very much doubt that, Jane,’ he added teasingly.

She didn’t care what he doubted. She worked, she went to bed, she ran, she shopped, she read, she worked, she went to bed Her life was structured, deliberately so. Routine, safe, uncomplicated. This man threatened complications she didn’t even want to think about!

‘Are you aware that Felicity Warner is in hospital, in danger of losing her baby?’ she attacked accusingly.

There was a slight pause on the other end of the telephone line. Very short, only a second or two, but Jane picked up on it anyway. To her surprise. Three years ago nothing had deterred this man. And she couldn’t really believe that had changed in any way.

‘I wasn’t aware that Felicity was pregnant,’ he finally rasped harshly.