Too Scared to Love Read online

  He turned towards her, not saying anything except, ‘Ready?’

  Roberta nodded, slinging on her black coat which had seen her loyally through more winters in England than she could remember, but which was hardly the height of high fashion.

  ‘I decided to leave the cashmere one on the hanger in the department store,’ she told him, forestalling any remarks that might have been coming her way.

  ‘Why?’ he asked, guiding her by the elbow towards his car, which was parked in the drive.

  ‘I didn’t think the colour suited me.’

  He gave a low laugh. ‘Maybe I should come along with you and judge for myself.’

  ‘Maybe not,’ she replied, slipping into the passenger seat. He was only joking, but what an appalling thought. Parading in front of him in a coat, twirling from side to side like some bubble-brained model, while he scrutinised her with that derisory smile on his lips, before agreeing that perhaps she was right, the colour didn’t suit her after all. No thanks.

  ‘Where are we going?’ Roberta asked, as the car slid noiselessly out of the drive.

  ‘A new place that’s just opened near the harbour front. It specialises in fish.’ He shot her a sidelong glance. ‘You do like fish, don’t you?’ he asked, and she nodded.

  ‘And what sort of impression am I supposed to give?’ she questioned sweetly. ‘Background and docile? Interested and intelligent?’

  ‘Do I detect a trace of sarcasm in your voice?’

  She looked at his sharp profile, then dropped her eyes to his long fingers, clasped lightly on the steering wheel.

  ‘Of course not. I would just like to be forewarned. After all, I wouldn’t want you to be embarrassed and have you thinking that Vanessa might have been better value.’

  She was irritated to hear herself sounding piqued, and turned to stare vacantly out of the window.

  ‘If I didn’t know better,’ he drawled, ‘I might have thought that you had been bitten by the little green monster.’

  ‘You’d be wrong, then, wouldn’t you?’ she responded with equanimity.

  ‘Would I?’ He threw her another sidelong look. ‘You present such a discreet, business-like image to the world; maybe you inwardly aspire to the likes of Vanessa.’

  That, Roberta decided, didn’t merit an answer, so she remained silent.

  ‘You strike me as the sort of girl who’s always been very cautious, very careful. Am I right?’

  ‘I don’t wear miniskirts and frequent nightclubs,’ Roberta replied icily, which only succeeded in bringing a slight mocking smile to his lips.

  ‘But haven’t you ever wanted to? I’m interested.’

  She clicked her tongue with exaggerated impatience. Couldn’t he see that she didn’t want to be subject to his brand of idle curiosity? No, she thought sourly, he’s probably well aware of that, but it just doesn’t stand in his way.

  He was persistent. If he wanted to know something, then he persevered until the mystery had been unravelled to his satisfaction. There was something vaguely disturbing about that. He was a man who controlled situations rather than the other way around, and that unnerved her.

  ‘As a matter of fact, no,’ she replied into the waiting silence. He didn’t say anything. ‘My father died when I was young,’ she found herself explaining, ‘and I guess I ended up being shaped by my environment. My mother was a very gentle woman. It never occurred to me to indulge in a wild life, because I always knew that that would have hurt her.’

  ‘You talk in the past tense,’ Grant said, his voice free of any undertone. ‘Is she dead?’

  ‘She died several months ago,’ Roberta said abruptly.

  ‘It must have been very upsetting for you.’

  ‘Yes. It was. I don’t think I shall ever fully recover. I’ve heard it said that the death of a loved one is a bit like losing a limb. You might accept it after a while, but you never stop feeling its absence.’ It was the first time she had been so articulate in the expression of her grief with anyone and she felt a sudden and overwhelming surge of warmth for the man sitting next to her, which she stifled quickly, confused by the emotion.

  ‘I guess you must understand that,’ she said in her normal voice. ‘You must have gone through the same thing yourself when your wife died.’

  His face hardened imperceptibly. ‘Perhaps,’ he said, and she realised that he didn’t want to discuss it. For some reason his wife was a taboo subject, and she changed the topic, unwilling to lose the atmosphere of mutual understanding that had suddenly developed between them.

  He began telling her about his client, indirectly answering her earlier question of what attitude she should adopt.

  ‘He’s Japanese,’ Grant told her. ‘Very charming. Married with two children. His wife will be there as well, and she’s delightful. I can’t imagine you being loud and raucous, but I might as well warn you that that sort of behaviour would meet with heavy disapproval and, for reasons I won’t bore you with, it’s imperative that Mr Ishikomo is left with a favourable impression.’

  ‘Is that why you didn’t want to bring Vanessa?’ Roberta asked. ‘Because she might have become loud and raucous?’

  They had stopped now, the car neatly and efficiently slotted into one of the few vacant spaces, and he turned to look at her, the shadows lending his face an air of arrogant masculinity that made her shiver.

  ‘No,’ he surprised her by saying.

  ‘Then why? Or is that,’ she added, when no reply was forthcoming, ‘a hands-off subject?’ She looked at him and added with veiled irony, ‘I’m interested.’

  ‘If you must know, I don’t want to take Vanessa along because that might start giving her ideas. She’s already started making coy references to our future together, despite the fact that I’ve told her often enough that I’m not the marrying kind. I’ve done that once and I have no intention of doing it again. No, she would just love to come along tonight and play the perfect hostess, but I can’t see the point of lulling her into a false sense of security.’

  ‘She’s good enough to sleep with, but not good enough to feature as anything more meaningful in your life? Is that it?’ Roberta looked at him blandly.

  ‘I’m a man,’ he replied roughly, as though annoyed by her reaction. ‘I haven’t remained celibate since the death of my wife. But that doesn’t mean to say that I’m on the look-out for a prospective marriage partner.’

  ‘Your wife must have meant a great deal to you.’

  ‘She certainly made her mark on my life, yes,’ he agreed, his expression giving nothing away. ‘Now has that satisfied your curiosity?’

  It hadn’t. In fact, it had done just the opposite. It had whetted it.

  ‘Was that why you reacted so strongly when you first saw me?’ she persisted, deciding that tenacity didn’t have to be limited to one of them. ‘Because I brought back painful memories of her?’

  ‘I was stupid,’ Grant said flatly, pulling down his door handle and leaving her in no doubt that as far as he was concerned the matter was terminated. He paused before stepping out of the car and said over his shoulder, ‘Yes, you physically reminded me of her. She had straight hair when I first met her, about your length. That’s probably why Emily didn’t associate you with her at all. Now, are you ready?’

  She nodded, realising that he had no intention of answering anything that he wanted to keep to himself. He was throwing her a few crumbs of himself, but the rest was for his eyes only, and she doubted he was a man who could be persuaded into revealing anything, however minute, that it didn’t suit him to reveal.

  It didn’t bother her anyway, she decided. She was curious about him because she worked for him, was in contact with his daughter every day, and curiosity was bound to rear its head. It was human nature. She had always been curious about her employers, wondered what motivated them.

  Nevertheless, as they entered the restaurant, she kept giving him surreptitious looks from under her lashes. He was an enigma. A complicated jigsaw puzz
le, the secret of which could elude even the most determined mind.

  She thought about Vanessa and wondered whether the other woman had not yet realised that. From the sound of it, she was still trying to slot the pieces together. And in the meantime, Roberta thought with a twinge, having lots of fun doing it.

  The restaurant was small and dimly lit, the décor nautical in flavour. Despite its lack of pretentiousness, though, the food turned out to be exquisite, and the company, as Grant had promised, was delightful.

  The Japanese couple were easy to get along with. They neither raised controversial issues, nor did they expect them to arise. They chatted in fairly fluent English about any number of topics, their faces lighting up when Roberta questioned them about their children. They were fascinated by her job, and the fact that she adored children was clearly a mark in her favour.

  By the time coffee had arrived, she wondered why she had ever resisted Grant’s invitation to have dinner with him.

  ‘I think they liked you,’ he said drily, as they headed back to the house long after midnight. ‘Maybe you should start a fan club. Emily, now my clients—who next? I wonder.’

  Not you at any rate, she thought, feeling slightly deflated at that and then, just as quickly, alarmed by the uninvited reaction.

  ‘They were nice,’ she said, keeping her treacherous thoughts firmly under wraps. ‘Uncomplicated.’

  ‘I wouldn’t bank on that,’ he informed her mockingly. ‘They have very high principles, as do a lot of the Japanese that I’ve met over the years. They believe in the sanctity of family life.’

  ‘I take it they wouldn’t exactly approve of your lifestyle, then,’ she couldn’t resist saying, and he frowned.

  ‘I hadn’t considered that, but no, I don’t suppose they would. I’ve never broached the subject directly, but I do get the impression that casual affairs are not seen as desirable.’ He laughed humourlessly. ‘Shame life doesn’t work that way over here.’

  ‘Life works the way you want it to,’ Roberta said.

  ‘You show your age when you say things like that,’ he returned, glancing quickly in her direction. ‘Only the very young or the very stupid ever see things in black and white.’

  His voice was laced with cynicism. What went on in that head of his?

  They drove the rest of the way in silence. Outside, everywhere was still with cold. The odd person hurrying by wore the pained expression of someone anxious to get out of unpleasant weather. They predicted snow the following day, and in fact sporadically over the next few weeks, and Emily had told her with obvious relish, eyeing her flimsy boots with scorn, that snow in Canada was not a half-hearted affair. It came down with gusto, and in a matter of a couple of hours the city could be knee-deep in it.

  As the car pulled into the driveway and Grant killed the ignition, he turned to face her and said lazily, ‘Well, did you enjoy the evening that you were paid to go to?’ From his tone of voice, he was still clearly irked at her remark, and a slight smile lifted the corners of her mouth.

  ‘It was lovely. Thank you. The food was absolutely delicious. Seafood in England can sometimes be a matter of pot luck.’

  ‘And the company?’

  ‘Charming. As you told me it would be,’ she replied honestly.

  ‘And I suppose,’ he said in an off-hand, mildly curious voice, ‘it would not have been nearly so charming if it had been just the two of us? Maybe you would have expected a financial bonus to be thrown in for that kind of ordeal?’

  She looked at him, and in the darkness of the car their eyes met. Her heart flipped over uncomfortably.

  ‘Perhaps I would have,’ she agreed in an equally off-hand manner. ‘Shall we go in now? It’s beginning to get a little chilly in the car.’

  There was the very briefest of pauses, then he said, opening his car door, ‘Why not? We can’t have you freezing to death in the course of duty, can we? That’s the problem with Toronto in winter,’ he continued, before she had time to analyse his remark, ‘the cold is just waiting to wrap around you.’

  He moved around to her side and opened the door for her, helping her out of the car, and she felt an electric tingle through her coat, where his fingers rested on her arm.

  ‘I don’t suppose you’d care for a nightcap?’ he asked, once they were inside the house.

  Roberta raised her eyes to his and, with a rush of uncustomary panic, decided that a nightcap with him was the very last thing she wanted.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ she said, clearing her throat. ‘I’m awfully tired.’ She tried a light laugh which sounded high-pitched and nervous. ‘I think I’ll just retire to bed.’

  ‘Of course,’ he mocked, not taking his eyes off her face. ‘I might have guessed that that would have been your answer. What a good little girl you are.’

  His cool voice rang in her head as she quickly mounted the stairs to her bedroom, and was still reverberating when she finally lay down on the bed, ensconced underneath the starched sanctity of her quilt.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  IT SNOWED the following day, a few flakes to start with, but in a matter of a couple of hours it had become a steady white sheet which slowly covered the ground.

  ‘Has your father gone to work in this?’ Roberta asked Emily, staring out through the window in fascination. It hardly ever snowed in London. The cold winter weather usually manifested itself as rain or slush.

  Emily came to stand next to her. ‘He probably left at the crack of dawn. As usual.’ Her little voice was threaded with bitterness and Roberta sighed. She might have made headway with her, but that certainly did not extend to Grant. Emily was still wrapped up in that explosive mixture of love and childish resentment towards her father.

  ‘What will he do this evening if he can’t get back home? Camp down on the office floor?’

  Emily snickered. ‘Oh, no. He’ll make it home. His car’s equipped for bad weather, like most of the cars over here, and anyway the company owns several flats in the city centre. Mostly for overseas clients, but quite often he uses one of them if he decides not to come back.’

  In that case, Roberta thought, let’s hope it continues like this. He had been on her mind ever since she had woken up, and she didn’t want to see him. In fact, she wouldn’t have been too distraught if he found himself marooned in one of those company flats for the remainder of her stay over here.

  She didn’t quite understand how it had happened, but he had somehow managed to edge his way into her consciousness, and the thought of seeing him day after day made her cold with apprehension.

  A hostile Grant she could handle with no problems, but she knew that it wasn’t that simple. He was unpredictable. He could be ruthlessly accusing one minute, mockingly amused the next. It disorientated her. Brian had, at least, been straightforward. There had been no kinks in his character. He had never let his mask slip and, if she had fallen for his practised charm, then at least she had had no one but herself to blame.

  They spent the day lethargically leafing through books and playing games of Scrabble. By evening the snow had stopped falling, although it clearly had no intention of releasing its grip on the ground in a hurry. They had a very early meal so that Mrs Thornson could leave at a reasonable hour, and then retired to the lounge to watch television.

  It was amazing, Roberta thought, watching the news. Reports of snow everywhere, but no mention of trains being grounded or the underground coming to a complete standstill. Over here, they knew how to cope with severe weather, expected it every year and took all the necessary precautions to ensure that it did not intrude on the day-to-day running of life.

  When the doorbell sounded, Roberta glanced at Emily in surprise. ‘Doesn’t your father have a key?’ she asked, and Emily shrugged, standing up and flexing her limbs.

  ‘Maybe he wants to get us up,’ she said. She vanished in the direction of the front door and returned a moment later with Vanessa in her wake.

  Roberta stared at the other woman for a fr
action of a second, then composed her features into a smile. Vanessa smiled back, but her eyes were on Emily.

  ‘I brought you a present,’ she said, and Emily glowered at her, looking very much her age.

  ‘What for?’

  Vanessa frowned briefly and an expression of irritation flitted across her lovely features. ‘Because I would like to get to know you,’ she said placatingly. ‘Here.’ She handed Emily a package which, after some reluctant unwrapping, turned out to be a flowered long-sleeved dress with a high collar. A very suitable style for a nine-year-old, but somehow Roberta could not imagine Emily in it at all.

  ‘You came all the way here, in this weather, to give me this dress?’ Emily asked in her usual blunt manner, and the question was met with another frown. This time Vanessa took less trouble in hiding her irritation. She glanced across to Roberta for support and Roberta smiled blankly. She wasn’t getting involved in any of this. She certainly wasn’t going to start taking sides.

  ‘It was no bother,’ Vanessa said. ‘My car is a four-wheel-drive, though I have to admit I do feel a little thirsty after the trip.’

  ‘Emily, go and fetch Vanessa—it is Vanessa, isn’t it? —a...’ she looked at the other woman with raised eyebrows ‘...a cup of coffee? Or would you like something a little stronger?’

  ‘Coffee would be fine,’ she murmured, and Emily departed with a disgruntled scowl.

  Vanessa turned to Roberta, leaning forwards in her chair, and Roberta had a sneaking suspicion that some sort of confidence was going to ensue.

  ‘I guess you’re pretty surprised to see me here,’ she whispered, and Roberta shrugged.

  ‘I suppose I would have expected you to come if Grant had been around,’ she confessed after a while. ‘Did you perhaps think that he had returned from work?’ She was doing her utmost to persevere in her attempts at cordiality, but unwelcome images were flashing through her head, images of Vanessa’s long fair limbs tangled with Grant’s, her blonde hair enfolding their twisting bodies in a silken net.