The Final Seduction Read online

  Jennie had shared many of Drew’s physical characteristics—they had both been tall with athletic builds, and the shiny hair and clear skin which came from natural good health. But Jennie had changed.

  She seemed smaller than Shelley remembered—though maybe that was because her shoulders were hunched up, like a person who constantly doubted herself. Her thick dark hair was unkempt and badly in need of styling, and her skin was sallow and dull. But it was her figure which startled Shelley most. She hadn’t just gained weight—she had gained it in the most unlikely of places. She had a real pot for a belly and her slumped posture only emphasised it. She wore an old pair of jeans and a dirty sweater and looked light years away from the smiley-eyed girl of yesteryear.

  Shelley felt a great wave of nostalgia for how things used to be. They had once been friends and seeing her now brought back how much she had missed that closeness. ‘Hello, Jennie,’ she said quietly. ‘It’s good to see you again.’

  ‘Hello, Shelley.’ Jennie’s face creased into a smile which looked genuine. ‘You probably thought that I was an interfering busy-body ringing up Drew and sending him round here—’

  ‘It’s okay. I realise that you were just being a good neighbour.’ Shelley smiled back. ‘It was dumb of me not to have planned my return a little better.’ But Marco’s bombshell had caught her unawares.

  ‘I was worried about you being without any heating at this time of year,’ Jennie explained. ‘It’s been unbelievably cold here, and I thought that after Italy—’ She bit her lip as if she’d put her foot in it. ‘Er—it’s just that Drew has had central heating installed in our house, but your mother—God rest her soul—never got round to it.’

  Several of Jennie’s words lodged themselves stubbornly in Shelley’s mind, where they refused to shift. She frowned with confusion. ‘Drew has had central heating installed?’ she repeated, like a child learning tables. She looked up at him, her face freezing in horror as she imagined having him that close.

  ‘Don’t tell me you’re still living at home, Drew!’ she exclaimed in surprise. Only as soon as the words were out of her mouth did she become aware of how preposterous they sounded. As if this vibrant, virile man would still be living at his parents’ old house.

  Yet Jennie was…

  Drew gave a shout of laughter only slightly less explosive than his sister’s. ‘Er, no. I’m not, as it happens.’

  ‘Drew?’ Jennie snorted, and for the first time her face came to life as it lit up with amusement. ‘Living at home?’ She turned to her brother. ‘Can you imagine?’

  ‘Oh, I can imagine it as clearly as Shelley obviously can,’ he drawled, his eyes glinting provocatively in Shelley’s direction. ‘It’s amazing the places that your imagination can take you, if you want it to. And we can all see where Shelley’s imagination is taking her! Wish-fulfilment, I believe it’s called. Yeah, I’ve still got my old room at home, kitten—and this time there’ll be nothing to stop you from visiting me there!’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Shelley very stiffly. ‘I obviously misunderstood what you meant.’ She discovered that another stupid lump had risen in her throat, and she swallowed it down like poison. She wondered where he was living, but was damned if she was going to ask. That might look as though she cared.

  ‘So what are you planning to do now you’re here, Shelley?’ asked Jennie. ‘Are you back for good?’

  It was a question which she was damned if she was going to consider under the critical eye of Drew Glover. ‘I haven’t decided what I’m doing. I’m just going to sit back and take stock for a little while.’

  Jennie looked round the hall and shivered. ‘Well, it’s freezing in here,’ she said. ‘You can’t possibly stay here tonight.’

  ‘I’ve suggested to Shelley that she stay at the Westward,’ Drew put in. ‘That’s the only place where she’d be likely to get a room at this time of year.’ He turned to Shelley, his eyes glinting with devilment. ‘And if the car you’re driving is anything to go by, then you shouldn’t have a problem affording it.’

  ‘A problem?’ she snapped. ‘I think I can just about afford the Westward’s prices!’

  Jennie screwed her face up. ‘Though I suppose there’s no reason why I shouldn’t offer to put you up for a couple of nights.’

  A look passed between brother and sister. Did Shelley imagine it, or did Drew shake his head very slightly? ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea,’ he said softly.

  He looked at her in that unhurried and insulting way he seemed to have perfected, his eyes flickering from the tip of her expensive leather boots up to the small diamond which glittered on a platinum chain at her throat and which matched the thin bangle at her wrist. ‘I think that Shelley has become too much of a hothouse flower to ever consider staying with you, Jennie!’

  Shelley blushed. ‘Oh, please! By implying that I’m a snob—which I’m not—you have also managed to insult your sister!’ She glared at him. ‘Besides which, I don’t need you to answer for me, Drew!’

  Jennie gave a small smile. ‘It’s not insulting,’ she told Shelley. ‘Drew’s right. It is a bit cramped in there.’

  Shelley wondered how that could be. Five of them used to live there—and if their parents and Drew and Cathy had all gone then that left two spare bedrooms, according to Shelley’s calculations. But now did not seem a good time to ask. And besides, she really didn’t want to stay with Drew’s sister. Jennie would doubtless paint a rosy picture of how wonderful his life had been without her and she didn’t think she could face hearing it. Not at the moment.

  ‘I’m sure it isn’t cramped,’ she said briskly. ‘I spent many happy years growing up here and I’m the last person who would ever turn their nose up at a small house. But Drew’s right. I wouldn’t dream of imposing on you.’

  ‘I’ll tell you what, Jennie,’ said Drew, in a lazy voice which nonetheless sounded very like a command. ‘Why don’t you take Shelley home and give her a cup of tea, while I drive on up to the Westward and see if they have a room for her?’

  Shelley met his forceful blue stare. ‘You don’t have to do that for me.’

  ‘I know I don’t,’ came the silky reply.

  ‘Then why?’

  ‘Like I said,’ he drawled, ‘I seem to be stuck with this annoying streak of chivalry and at heart I guess I’m just a gentleman. The Westward is full for most of the year now—and I wouldn’t want you going up there on a wild-goose chase—not if they don’t have a room.’

  She looked at him assessingly. ‘I’m not sure I believe you.’

  ‘Well, whether you do or whether you don’t, the fact remains that you still need a warm bed for the night—’

  ‘There’s always the telephone,’ murmured Shelley, unwilling to be obligated to him. ‘Why don’t we ring them and see?’

  He shook his head. ‘Oh, no!’ he argued softly. ‘The telephone is never as effective as face-to-face contact—surely you must have learnt that by now, Shelley! So why don’t you let me go and sweet-talk them into giving you one?’

  ‘Sweet-talk them? And how will you do that?’ she laughed. ‘You’ve got friends in high places now, have you, Drew?’

  Only the merest quirk of his mouth betrayed his irritation. ‘Oh, I’ve done a bit of work for them, off and on over the years. They’ve always treated their tradesmen well.’

  ‘I’ll go and put the kettle on.’ Jennie giggled. ‘Come next door and have some tea with me, Shelley. You’re very welcome.’

  Shelley nodded. ‘I will. Thank you.’

  ‘Wait for me, Jennie,’ Drew murmured, then turned back to Shelley. ‘Why don’t we leave you to lock up at your own pace? Maybe you still want a little time to get reacquainted with the house, after such a long time away,’ he suggested, with such apparent good sense that Shelley felt she had no choice but to agree. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but she had the distinct impression she was being manipulated—but quite frankly she was too tired to object.

  She
stood at the window and watched them go, feeling that her heart might break as he walked with his sister back down the road of their childhood.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  SHELLEY opened all the bedroom windows and a small one in the bathroom, catching an unexpected glimpse of herself in the hall mirror as she went back downstairs.

  She shuddered and halted in her tracks. What a sight she looked!

  In the two days since she had been travelling she hadn’t given a thought to her appearance, and my—how it showed! If she had thought that Jennie Glover wasn’t looking her best, then Drew’s sister must have been having similar thoughts about her. She looked as if she had been through the mill and back.

  Her face was pale and pinched and the short, usually immaculate hair looked far from immaculate—the wind had swept it out of shape and it badly needed the attention of a hairdresser. She squinted at her reflection—at aquamarine eyes which were smudged with mascara, with shadows of fatigue beneath, like dark blue thumb-prints. No wonder Drew had been so rude about her appearance.

  She found her soap bag and cleansed her face, brushed her teeth and ran her fingers through her hair. When she had finished she felt a bit better. Not much—but it was a start.

  What she wanted more than anything else was a long, hot bath and to put her head on a feather-down pillow and sleep for a week. But in the meantime she would settle for a cup of tea with Jennie.

  Locking the door behind her, she made her way to the house next door, and Jennie must have been looking out for her, for she opened the front door before Shelley had a chance to knock. She had run a comb through her hair and applied a coat of pink lipstick and Shelley thought that she looked much better, though there was still that sense of defeat which made her eyes look so hollow.

  ‘Come in,’ she said. ‘Only excuse the mess!’

  Shelley stepped inside the house and the first thing that struck her was how different it felt from the house she remembered.

  For a start, it was deliciously warm—like a tropical paradise compared to the icy temperature of her own house—with slim, top-of-the-range radiators shimmering out their heat.

  She wriggled her shoulders luxuriously. ‘It feels fantastic in here, Jennie—so lovely and warm.’ She looked around the hall. ‘And it’s beautifully decorated, too.’

  ‘Why, thank you! Come into the sitting room—it’s even nicer in there,’ smiled Jennie. ‘And I’ve made a tray of tea.’

  ‘Lead me to it!’ murmured Shelley.

  The sitting room was immaculate, with freshly painted walls and an expensive-looking carpet covering the floor. There were two terracotta sofas, with jade-green cushions scattered over them, and, in the centre of the room, a coffee-table on which stood a tray of tea and biscuits.

  On the sideboard stood a large, silver-framed portrait of a baby in a white cotton dress, with dark curls of hair fizzing around her face. Was that Cathy’s baby? Shelley wondered.

  ‘Sit down,’ said Jennie.

  ‘Thanks!’ Shelley sank thankfully down onto one of the sofas. ‘Though I’m so tired that I wonder whether I’ll ever be able to get up again!’ She looked around. ‘This room is amazing, Jennie—it looks twice the size of mine! You must have spent a lot of time or a lot of money doing it up—or both!’

  ‘Oh, that was Drew, not me,’ Jennie explained as she poured the milk out. ‘I had to go into hospital, and while I was there he arranged for the house to be modernised. Heating, carpets, curtains. The lot. It was such a surprise when I came home!’

  Shelley’s lips formed a reluctant O. ‘Generous of him,’ she commented reluctantly.

  Jennie frowned. ‘He is very generous—surely you’ve noticed that before!’

  ‘Well, of course I have! I was engaged to the man, Jennie—and I got to know his good points pretty well.’ Something stirred deep in her subconscious. ‘Does he pay for your garden to be done, too?’ she asked suddenly.

  ‘Yes, he does.’

  ‘So he’s been paying for mine all this time, as well?’

  Jennie looked awkward. ‘He’d hate you to make a big deal out of it. It was starting to look tatty and he asked the gardener to keep it looking neat, that’s all.’

  Shelley shook her head. ‘No, that’s not all. He’s done more than that—it looks almost as good as when my mother was alive.’ She sighed. If only he didn’t have so many good points—like that streak of innate thoughtfulness which used to have her mother and her friends eating out of his hands.

  ‘He must be doing well,’ she observed slowly. ‘To be able to afford to do all this for you. Money was tight when we were together.’

  ‘That’s one of the reasons you left him, isn’t it?’

  Shelley gave her a steady look. ‘Is that what you think?’

  Jennie shrugged. ‘What were we supposed to think? You left him for a very rich man. A man you didn’t really know. So obviously that was the first thing which sprang to mind.’

  ‘Did everyone else think that, too?’

  ‘Pretty much. Shall I pour you some tea?’

  ‘Please.’

  Jennie handed over a steaming mug and fixed Shelley with a curious look. ‘But now you’re back.’

  ‘Yep.’ Steam wafted up her nostrils. She waited for the inevitable question.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘That depends who wants to know—you or your brother?’

  ‘I suspect that Drew’s need to know is greater than mine,’ said Jennie drily. ‘But most other people will be curious once they find out you’re back. You know what this place can be like.’

  Yes, she knew. But despite the cloying drawbacks of a small town she knew something else, too, something which came straight from the heart. ‘I’ve come back because it’s my home,’ she said quietly. ‘It’s the first place I thought of.’

  Jennie looked at her shrewdly. ‘I thought that home was an apartment in Milan and a villa on Lake Garda?’

  The details were much too precise to masquerade as casual gossip. ‘Who on earth told you that?’

  ‘Drew did. Soon after you’d gone.’

  ‘Drew? I didn’t realise he knew. My mother must have told him, I suppose.’

  Jennie shrugged. ‘Even if she hadn’t he would have found out anyway. Like he always says—knowledge is power.’

  ‘Does he?’ It sounded more like something Marco would say. ‘I never heard him say anything like that before.’

  ‘No, well…’ Jennie looked slightly uncomfortable. ‘It’s been a long time.’

  ‘Yes.’ Shelley leaned back and noticed the plastic box full of toys stuffed behind one of the sofas. And the sense of something being different which had struck her as she’d first entered at last began to make sense. ‘You’ve got a child living here, haven’t you?’

  ‘Yes, I have. A baby, actually. My baby!’ Jennie smiled with maternal pride. ‘You saw the toys in the box?’

  ‘Yes, I did, and the photo on the bureau. But I noticed something different when I first walked in. The place had that air that all houses with children in them have—of everything being tidied away while the baby’s asleep! I could always tell which of Marco’s friends had children and which didn’t,’ she added.

  ‘Didn’t he want any children of his own?’

  ‘Not when I was with him,’ answered Shelley truthfully.

  ‘I see.’ Jennie reached out for a biscuit, then changed her mind. ‘I’ve put on too much weight recently.’

  ‘Well, if you’ve just had a baby…’

  ‘That’s no excuse.’

  ‘I suppose not.’ Shelley reached for a biscuit and, meeting Jennie’s eyes, shrugged. ‘Your brother thinks that I could do with gaining a few pounds.’

  ‘Well, you are terribly thin.’ Jennie’s stare was hard and bright. ‘So is Marco off the scene for good?’ she asked suddenly.

  Shelley laughed, oddly refreshed by her candour. ‘That’s a bit of a jump from discussing babies and waist-lines!’

  ‘Is i
t? I thought Marco was the love of your life. And if that was the case, didn’t you want his baby?’

  This question rocked her. Its intimacy jangled at her raw nerves and Shelley was acutely aware that anything she told Jennie would get straight back to Drew. And if she told the truth, wouldn’t that damn her even more in their eyes? ‘I’d rather not talk about Marco, if you don’t mind. Tell me about your baby instead.’

  Jennie beamed. ‘She’s eight months old and the most adorable child on the planet,’ she said, getting up and taking a photo album from the sideboard. She handed it to Shelley. ‘Although I recognise that I might be a little biased!’

  ‘What’s her name?’

  ‘Ellie. Look—that one was taken just after she was born.’

  ‘She’s sweet. She’s sleeping now, is she?’

  Jennie shook her head. ‘No. She’s out for the day, with her…father.’

  Shelley had been flicking through the album, but she glanced up when she heard Jennie’s hesitation. ‘You don’t have to tell me, you know.’

  ‘Oh, it’s not a big, dark secret and I’m not ashamed of being a single mother,’ said Jennie defensively. ‘You know him, actually. Or you did. Remember Jamie Butler?’

  Shelley nodded as she took another biscuit and bit into it. ‘Of course I do. He was ahead of us at school—a few years below Drew—am I right? Always very tanned—loved boats? Blond curly hair? Good-looking?’

  ‘That’s the one,’ said Jennie wistfully. ‘He still loves boats, and Ellie adores him. So do I.’

  It wasn’t her place to pry. ‘That’s nice,’ said Shelley evenly.

  ‘No, it isn’t nice,’ disagreed Jennie mulishly. ‘It’s hell, if you must know.’

  ‘Because you’re no longer together, you mean?’

  ‘We never were, not really. Not for long.’ Jennie sighed. ‘But he wants us to be.’

  ‘And you don’t?’

  Jennie shook her head. ‘Drew doesn’t.’

  ‘Drew? What the hell does it have to do with Drew?’