There was no chance of more sleep, and even after a long, cool shower the sexual arousal had her feeling restless and cross with herself. She couldn’t believe that he had swept back into her life after all these years and had just taken over her emotions again. It was—she searched for the words—it was degrading and mortifying and so unfair.
Once dressed, she marched up and down the sitting room for a while and then forced herself to go downstairs and make some coffee which she took up onto the tiny balcony. The morning air was warm when she opened the full-length windows—it was going to be another lovely day—but her agitation had her drinking the coffee in little sharp gulps as she scanned the vista beyond without really seeing it, her mind in turmoil.
It would be emotional suicide to agree to Clay’s proposition, she knew that, so why did a little voice in the back of her mind keep suggesting that maybe, maybe, if she allowed him into her life and her body, he might find he was falling for her too?
Clutching at straws. She nodded at the thought. Cass and Guy had let enough little comments drop during the years for her to know that Clay was a dedicated love-’em-and-leave-’em type.
Perhaps he had been so in love with his wife that no one could take her place? She deliberately considered the thought that had tormented her for years, if she was being truthful. Certainly she had to face the fact that he’d forget her as q
uickly as he could click his fingers once the affair came to an end. And that was all she could hope for with Clay, an affair. He would leave her with no pride, no self-respect; everything she had worked for over the last years would be as ashes. And that mustn’t happen.
She finished the coffee and padded back down to the kitchen whereupon she forced herself to eat a bowl of cereal and two slices of toast. At eight o’clock she was seated at her desk in the office, and when Drew arrived Robyn was bright and breezy and very businesslike.
At half-past nine the telephone rang, and whether it was sixth sense or women’s intuition she didn’t know, but Robyn told Drew to leave it and let the answer machine take the call.
‘Robyn…’ The deep, husky voice brought the blood rushing to her face and made her toes curl under the desk. ‘Just a quick call to say how much I enjoyed the meal last night and the company even more. I’m leaving for the States in a few minutes but I’ll be back at the weekend. Save Saturday for me?’ There was a slight pause. ‘And take care.’
There was a full thirty seconds of silence before Drew said, her tone one of awe, ‘Wow! What a way to start the day!’
Robyn hoped her cheeks weren’t as visibly hot as they felt. She stared at Drew, and then said, ‘That was—’
‘I know who it was.’ Drew sighed enviously. ‘There’s only one man I’ve met recently who has a voice like that. He’s gorgeous, Robyn. Utterly drop-dead gorgeous.’
‘It’s not what you think,’ Robyn said hastily. ‘Really.’
‘No?’ Drew opened her baby-blue eyes wider and gave a Marilyn Monroe pout. ‘Then, make it what I’m thinking, Robyn. This is one hunk you just can’t let escape. They don’t come gift-wrapped like him but once in a lifetime.’
It was a toss up who was surprised more when Robyn burst into tears in the next moment, but the maternal side of Drew came immediately to the fore and Robyn was bustled upstairs for tea and chocolate biscuits—Drew’s answer to all of life’s emergencies. Especially the two-legged kind.
Quite how she came to be telling Drew the whole story, Robyn didn’t know, but over the next ten minutes it all spilled out; from the time she was twelve years old and captivated by a dark, sleek Adonis, to the present day. Even the episode when she was sixteen didn’t seem so hard to talk about with Drew’s arm about her shoulders and her sympathy flowing in waves.
‘I knew there was someone.’ Drew gave her a big hug when she finished talking, passing her another tissue as she did so.
‘How?’ Robyn sniffed mournfully. ‘How did you know?’
‘Because when a woman looks like you do and gives the brush off to every man in sight, it has to mean someone in the past has done a good job on her heart,’ Drew said with all the wisdom of her twenty-eight years. ‘And he did, didn’t he?’
‘It…it was my fault.’ She didn’t know why she had to defend Clay but somehow she did. ‘I threw myself at him.’
‘Oh, come on, Robyn.’ Drew was scathing. ‘You were sweet sixteen and never been kissed, and he was twenty-three and pretty experienced, I bet. He was a rat!’
She didn’t want Drew to hate Clay, but it did feel good to have someone so totally on her side. Robyn found she felt a bit better.
‘Why didn’t you say anything before?’ Drew asked with a touch of amazement. ‘We’ve been friends for ever.’ And then she answered herself immediately with, ‘But you aren’t like me, are you? You’ve always been a deep one, Robyn, and never one to wear your heart on your sleeve.’
‘Oh, Drew.’ Robyn stared at the other girl forlornly.
‘Which means you’re playing with fire now.’ Drew looked at her unhappily. ‘I think I better make another cup of tea.’
They didn’t get much work done that morning but Robyn found that by telling someone the whole miserable story a great weight had lifted off her heart. It hadn’t changed her predicament, but in admitting her true feelings for Clay out loud to another human being some of the shame and humiliation of the past was gone. This was life—not always nice and certainly not always fair or tidy, but she was one of millions of mortals who made mistakes and loved where they should not.
As Drew had said, and with deep feeling, ‘Welcome to the human race, kiddo.’
Surprisingly that night Robyn slept like a baby and awoke on Tuesday morning feeling positive. She could handle this, she could. And once Clay realised that anything of a sexual nature was a no-go, he might even start to look at her as a friend. She was Cass’s sister after all so it was likely their paths might cross now and again.
She ignored the very pertinent fact that their paths hadn’t crossed in years, and also the stab in her heart at the thought of being on the perimeter of Clay’s life and hearing about—even maybe watching—his affairs with other women, and concentrated fiercely on work. She knew where she was with that.
By Friday evening Robyn was telling herself she had to psych herself up carefully for the following day. Clay hadn’t contacted her personally although mid-week a huge bunch of hot-house orchids had been delivered to the house, with a little note which had said, ‘Looking forward to Saturday, C.’ Drew had looked at the flowers and had exhaled long and loud.