Somewhere between the double late night bill of horror films Stacy somehow managed to fall asleep in the chair. She woke up to the toneless hum of the television, a glance at her wrist-watch telling her it was almost three o’clock in the morning. The girls should be back from their party soon—and she hadn’t even been to bed yet!
She rose stiff and cold from the chair to switch off the television, frozen in the act by the banging on the door. Helen and Sheila must have forgotten their key. God, the noise they were making, they were going to wake the whole building!
Jake stood on the doorstep, swaying unsteadily on his feet, and if Stacy had changed so had he. He looked terrible, really haggard. Of course the drink didn’t help, the strong smell of whisky almost choked her. But it was more than that; he was much thinner, deep lines of strain etched either side of his nose and mouth, his dark hair much too long and showing more grey at his temples. But it was his eyes that were the worst, his deep blue eyes that had once glowed with desire for her now showed only cynicism and disillusionment.
‘My God, Jake,’ she said chokingly. ‘Is this any time to call?’
‘What the hell does the time matter?’ he rasped. ‘You obviously hadn’t gone to bed yet.’
‘Come in, for goodness’ sake!’ She pulled him inside. ‘You’ll disturb all our neighbours.’ She watched him as he weaved his way into the lounge to sit down on the sofa, with a creaking protest from the old springs at his weight descending on them. ‘You didn’t drive here in this state?’ she demanded.
He leant back against the sofa, his eyes closed. ‘I got a taxi,’ he mumbled.
‘But what are you doing here?’ She still stood hesitantly in the doorway.
The blue eyes flickered open. ‘You weren’t at the premiere, so I had to come to see you. Why weren’t you there?’ His words were slurred, even more evidence of his heavy drinking.
‘I didn’t want to go.’
‘You didn’t want to see me,’ he mocked.
‘You place too much importance on yourself,’ she retorted heatedly. ‘I simply didn’t feel like going.’
‘I wanted to see you.’ He was talking softly, almost as if in conversation with himself. ‘Did you know that I love you?’ he asked matter-of-factly.
Stacy paled, swallowing hard. ‘Wh—what did you say?’
‘I said I—’ The room grew suddenly quiet.
Stacy looked at him in horror as she saw his head droop to one side, his deep breathing evidence of his sleeping. She couldn’t believe this! Jake had come here at three o’clock in the morning, had calmly told her he loved her, and now he had passed out on the sofa!
CHAPTER TEN
SANDY came into the kitchen yawning tiredly. She was dressed in a long nightshirt and brown mules, her shoulder-length hair permed into a long Afro-style. She wordlessly poured herself a mug of coffee before sitting down opposite Stacy at the breakfast table.
‘The man in the lounge,’ she said tiredly.
‘Mm?’ Stacy sipped her own coffee.
‘Who is he?’
‘Jake Weston.’
That brought a slight spark of interest into Sandy’s otherwise hazy blue eyes. ‘The author?’
‘Mm,’ Stacy nodded.
‘Oh.’ Sandy stood up to flip-flop her way back out to the lounge. She was back a few seconds later. ‘Handsome devil.’ She sat down again.
‘Mm,’ Stacy said again.
‘Does he belong to you?’
‘No!’
‘No?’ Sandy’s eyebrows rose, the colour of them denoted by her name. ‘One of the others, then?’
Stacy decided she had better make an effort to explain Jake’s presence here, even if she wasn’t sure of his reasons herself. ‘He’s here to see me, but he doesn’t belong to me.’