Zac Delucca was six feet five, and right at this moment he felt about two inches tall—not a pleasant feeling, he acknowledged as he strode across to the drinks cabinet and poured whisky into a crystal glass. He downed it in one. He was furious with Sally, but more so with himself. He was man enough to know without question that she wanted him on a sexual level, but that Sally dared class him with her father had shocked him.
He was forced to take a long, hard look at himself, and he didn’t much like what he saw. When had he become such a cynical bastard about the opposite sex that he had mistaken an innocent, hard-working young woman for a teasing little gold-digger out for what she could get?
He had to accept he had behaved less than honourably in demanding Sally become his mistress. It had never entered his head to do anything so outrageous before, and he definitely never would again. But Sally had the ability to get under his skin like no other woman, and blinded by lust and—yes—jealousy he had acted on impulse and completely out of character.
Zac prided himself on his honesty and fair dealing, but his pride had taken one hell of a battering when Sally had declared with brutal frankness that as far as she was concerned her dad had tried to pimp his own daughter to save his neck, and that Zac was just as bad for taking advantage of the fact…
He had never once considered her feelings, other than in the sexual sense, and she responded with avid delight to what he could give her in bed. But the burden she’d had to bear with her mother and father that had led her into his bed had not bothered him at all.
One of the reasons she had agreed to be his mistress was so she could make a bargain with her despised father and get the man to go and visit his wife. How sad was that…?
It was true that Sally had asked for time so she could try and pay the debt, and he had refused. Something he had completely forgotten in his determination to bed her. All of which made him as despicable in her eyes as her father, and he couldn’t really blame her…She deserved much better treatment from the man in her life than he had given her.
He had behaved abominably, and Zac knew that if Sally truly believed what she had told him, he had to let her go. His confidence and his pride in himself as a man would allow him to do no less.
He poured another whisky and tried to tell himself the world was full of beautiful women and he didn’t need Sally. B
y the time he had downed half a bottle he was convinced!
Zac had known from the start she was going to be trouble. So far every time they had met they had ended up arguing at some point, and it was driving him crazy…He should have listened to what his head had been trying to tell him from the beginning and walked away.
A good businessman knew when to cut his losses. He was going back to Italy tomorrow and to hell with her. As for a woman, there was always Lisa on hold in Milan…
Sally opened the door of her apartment and stumbled inside. Zac had said he might see her some time, but she knew it was goodbye. It was what she wanted, an end to the affair that had been forced upon her, so why did she feel so hollow inside?
She had no answer and, stripping off her clothes, she slid naked into bed and pulled the cover up around her neck.
Tomorrow she was visiting her mother—with her father. When she had first set eyes on Zac she had been a woman on a mission…Well, now the mission was accomplished, she told herself. But it was a hollow victory, and she felt numb inside—no joy, no tears, just emptiness.
The next morning, heavy-eyed, she staggered into the bathroom and into the shower. Immediately, the memory of Zac and the shower they had shared the night before flashed in her mind. Ruthlessly, she stamped on the erotic vision and focused on the female articles Zac’s previous lover had left in his bathroom.
She had done the right thing in refusing his offer to move into his apartment. They had a deal, and if he didn’t want to keep it that suited her just fine. But to her horror, by the time she stepped out of the shower, stupid tears were streaming down her face.
Five hours later, the smile on her mother’s face as Sally walked into her room with her dad was enough to make all the heartache worthwhile.
Sally excused herself an hour later, saying she wanted to do some shopping in the nearby city of Exeter.
But actually she could not stand to listen any longer to her father’s rant about how he had been moved sideways by his new boss. Now he had to do twice as much work for the same salary, and he had decided he was definitely retiring in twelve months, so he could see a lot more of his wife.
‘Oh, Nigel, it must be so difficult for you,’ Pamela had offered, her love and concern for the thieving devil shining in her eyes.
Sally had wanted to scream. It was lies—all lies. Her dad knew Pamela wasn’t going to last more than a year, because the doctor had contacted him after informing Sally that her mother’s heart wouldn’t hold out much longer, but her mum lapped it all up, like a puppy dog devoted to its master, so instead she’d left.
By the time she returned her mum was on her own and her father had gone back to the hotel—or so he had told his wife. Sally did not see him again until breakfast the next morning. It was a silent meal, except for her father stating he wanted to leave for London directly after lunch. Sally had no intention of doing so, and as they were using her car he’d have no choice. But in that she was wrong. Five minutes after entering his wife’s room, he had got her mum to agree it was best they left early…
If anything was guaranteed to confirm what Sally had always thought about love and marriage, it was seeing her mother, who was dying, comforting her father, who was lying through his teeth.
Chapter Twelve
RETURNING to her hated apartment on Sunday evening, Sally tried to tell herself she was glad Zac had gone back to Italy before she got in too deep. But it did not stop her checking her messages in the vain hope he might have called. How pathetic was that? she thought miserably as she climbed into bed. But it did not stop her hoping deep inside that he might turn up Monday to Friday, as per their deal and that was even worse!
Honesty forced her to admit that, blinded by jealousy, she had driven Zac away with her hateful comments. But it was for the best…She didn’t love him, could not love him, she told herself, and feverishly brushed away the tears that were determined to fall. So what if she stayed in a few evenings waiting for a call that never came, and cried herself to sleep a night or two? It was a whole lot better than a lifetime of heartache.
But as a week passed with no word from Zac it became harder to dismiss him from her mind. Being alone in bed at night—the bed she had briefly shared with Zac—reminded her all too vividly of the pleasure and the passion of his exquisite lovemaking. When she did sleep invariably her dreams were haunted by his image, his touch, and she awoke hot and aching.
On Friday, two weeks to the day since Sally had last seen Zac her friend Jemma told her she looked pale and miserable and in need of cheering up. She suggested a night out—dinner and the cinema. Sally agreed, and actually managed to enjoy the film.
But the next day, when she arrived at the nursing home, the little bit of good the night out had done her was immediately cancelled as she was met by the doctor in charge of her mum’s case.