Reclaiming His Wife

The composure Taylor prided herself on had deserted her somewhere between coming up here and when he had told her to sit down, and now her words left her on a low croak. ‘Change things?’

Again there was hesitation in Jared’s usually arrogant manner. ‘We can’t go on like this,’ he stated with an air of finality. ‘I certainly don’t think it an ideal situation. And I’m sure you can’t think so. This may come as a surprise to you, but I miss the domestic scene. Call me crazy if you like but I’m keen to throw myself right back there into matrimonial bliss—have a second stab at it—but as you can appreciate, I can’t do it without your co-operation.’

What was he saying? That he wanted them to try again? Surprise, shock and an emotion to which she wanted to give no credence surged through her. Was he saying he had missed her? That he still wanted her?

Well of course he did, an inner little voice told her cruelly after the initial shock of his statement began to wear off. Hadn’t he had the best of both worlds while they had been together?

Slamming the lid on a well of anguished memories, she asked tentatively, ‘Are you implying we should get back together?’ But then the ambiguity of his statement suddenly struck her, making her tag on, ‘Or are you asking me for a divorce?’ She was relieved that no emotion crept into her voice, giving away how much he still affected her and, sparing herself the humiliation of a possible rejection, quickly she added, ‘Because if you are, I don’t intend standing in your way.’

Was it relief or surprise, she wondered, that brought him down onto the opposite sofa? That furrowed his brow and kept his voice low and husky when he spoke again? ‘I hadn’t realised you’d agree to one so readily.’

Taylor drew in a breath that was almost too painful to expel. And to think she could so easily have misunderstood!

She gave a careless movement of her shoulder. ‘Why not? We’re living separate lives. You said so yourself.’ So he wanted to get married again. Have a second stab at it, as he had so casually and unthinkingly called it. ‘Who is she?’ she asked caustically. ‘The wonderful Alicia?’

‘What?’ His eyes had narrowed into slits.

‘This woman you’re prepared to sacrifice your freedom to for a second time?’

He was still looking at her as though he were trying to fathom out why she was asking. Or, from the grimness of his mouth, perhaps he thought she had no right to question him on the subject—no right at all.

‘Or have you found someone else?’ Jumping up, bitterly she couldn’t help flinging down at him, ‘Someone else willing to give you the children I couldn’t—no, wouldn’t— agree to?’

Frighteningly swift, Jared was on his feet. ‘You haven’t a clue what you’re saying,’ he rasped in a harshly chiding tone. ‘I was hoping by now you would have grown up a little and come to your senses! You’re still governed by that jealous nature and a far too vivid imagination. As for children—that isn’t important.’

‘No?’ Her thick hair moved sleekly as she tilted her head, her green eyes dark and injured. ‘Funny! It seemed of paramount importance when you were married to me!’

She gave a small cry as he suddenly reached out, dragging her against him, the hands gripping her upper arms, hard and bruising.

‘I still am. Married to you,’ he breathed, his strong white teeth clamping together, his jaw, with that marked cleft at its centre, locked in anger and some other, more primal emotion that excited as much as it unnerved her.

His closeness could have been her undoing. The strength of those arms that held her but a few centimetres from his body, his familiar, elusive scent and the latent power of his sexuality all combined to make her head swim with the longing to throw her arms around him, tilt her lips in shameless invitation to his. But common sense prevailed and beneath the burn of his gaze she taunted in a whisper and with a control she was far from feeling, ‘Do you want both of us, Jared?’

His features were almost feral, nostrils flaring, his eyes glittering with something that for a few heady seconds had Taylor panicking, fearing that he was going to take the decision away from her and plunge them both into a moment’s savage passion of the kind that had ruled them both during the final days of their marriage. A passion that now they would only both regret.

But then suddenly, and with a heavy lifting of his chest, as if it had taken every ounce of will-power he possessed, he released her.

‘I’ll be in touch,’ he muttered breathlessly, and a few seconds later she heard his footsteps thundering down over the stairs.

CHAPTER TWO

‘YOUR husband!’ Charity breathed, having called to ask if Taylor could spare a carton of milk later that evening. ‘Why didn’t you ever tell me? No, don’t answer that,’ she added quickly, palms upwards in negation of any explanation that might be forthcoming. ‘It’s none of my business and you have a right to keep it to yourself.’

With anyone else, Taylor thought, it might have been a prompt for more information, but she knew that with Charity that wasn’t the case. Just as she knew that the request for milk wasn’t a ploy to question her about Jared. Taylor had offered the information voluntarily and with little prompting. Besides, with a family and two cats to feed, Charity was always running out of milk.

‘I’m just not too proud of carrying around the stigma of a broken marriage,’ Taylor admitted, reaching into the fridge for the small, unopened carton.

‘Oh, Taylor! It’s hardly a stigma these days.’

‘Well, a failure then.’

Charity treated her to one of her caring smiles. ‘Not even that. It’s because you do everything so perfectly. Always look good. Manage a career and—’ she sent a glance around the modestly fitted but pristine kitchen ‘—somehow keep your home spick and span. Thanks.’ She took the carton Taylor handed her, giving it a shake as she said wryly, ‘Never running out of basic necessities. Sometimes you’ve got to realise that you’re human too. It’s all right not to succeed in everything.’

Was that how Charity—and possibly other people—saw her? Taylor wondered, shocked. As a kind of superwoman? The proverbial perfectionist?

Closing the fridge, she gave her a friend a half-hearted smile. She wasn’t sure she liked being viewed like that at all.

‘Are you going to at least let me in on how long you’ve known him?’ the other woman ventured.

She owed Charity that at least, Taylor decided, having deceived her over her marital status even if it were only by omission, although she had gone as far as to tell both Charity and Craig that she had had a relationship that hadn’t worked out.

‘It was four and a half years ago,’ Taylor told her, opening the dishwasher to unload it, releasing a sudden cloud of steam. ‘I was working in a small provincial theatre as assistant to the set designer. I think Jared knew the leading lady of the play we were putting on at the time. His mother had been an actress and I suppose he knew people through her. Anyway, the theatre was in extreme financial difficulty and was scheduled for closure at the end of that season.’ Carefully she stacked several small plates in the cupboard above the worktop. ‘It had been a theatre for ninety years and was going to mean a great loss to the community. I found out later that Jared financed it, prevented it from closing down.

‘One of the cast threw a party and that was the first time I saw him. All he did was look at me across the room…’ And she had been lost for ever, a helpless, willing slave to his enthralling sexuality.

She stared wistfully down at her hand as though seeing something more than the little warm glass she had used for her fruit juice that morning.

At twenty-one she had been a virgin, green and untutored in the mysteries of love and passion, wary after the unsettled nature of her parents’ marriage.

There had been a few hard years before then, unhappy years when, after losing the father she had adored, she had gone to live with her mother and step-father. Almost immediately, however, she had been made to feel like an interloper. Her mother had made a new life for herself that didn’t take account of looking after a lonely, spirited teenager. As soon as she had been old enough, Taylor had left home, working hard to put herself through art college. Before she was even nineteen, her mother emigrated to Australia and, all alone in the world, Taylor had studied single-mindedly, shrugging off all advances by the opposite sex, except the most innocent and undemanding of dates.

Jared, though, had become her lover almost from the start. By that time her career was already under way. Not that it would have mattered, she reflected poignantly, forgetting for a few moments that Charity was there, because the passions that had ravaged them had been too great for denial or restraint.

Within a month she had moved out of her bedsit into his luxury penthouse apartment. And two months after that, just after her twenty-second birthday, they were married on a Hawaiian beach, pledging their vows to the soughing breezes and the song of an azure ocean.

She had invited her mother to attend, sending two airline tickets and a hotel booking with the simple invitation, which had been politely declined. Even that, however, hadn’t detracted from the magic of her wedding day.

It had been a partnership made in heaven—or so she had thought—until the party Jared had thrown a few weeks afterwards to celebrate their marriage, to introduce his friends and business associates to his new wife.

With few friends of her own, Taylor had invited just one or two people with whom she had been working at the theatre and, still basking in the warmth of being Jared’s new bride, was enjoying herself enormously at that party. It was only when, somewhat overwhelmed by all their congratulations and good wishes, she had wandered out onto the balcony that surrounded the penthouse that she had heard the two women talking.

One voice she instantly recognised as that of the leading lady of the play that had just finished running, the other belonged to an older woman she hadn’t met until that night.

Obscured by a screen of metal lacework supporting a thick and prolific vine, Taylor had stopped, hesitant to venture further, suddenly aware of the nature of the women’s conversation.

‘It’s been so quick,’ the familiar voice was saying. ‘I’d never have labelled Jared as the impulsive type. But you could have knocked me down with a feather when he came back from Hawaii married. I mean, after… What was the name of that woman he was seeing in Philadelphia? Alicia?’ And after a murmur of uncertainty, ‘Oh, I know it was an impossible situation,’ that same voice continued, ‘but well… he was so involved.’

‘A woman with a disabled husband she’s never going to leave doesn’t exactly make for a settled future,’ the older woman responded, ‘and I suppose Jared couldn’t wait around forever. He’s a full-blooded male. He needs a wife—children—and when all is said and done, well… she’s a lovely little thing.’

‘Hardly little!’ the leading lady contradicted with emphasis. ‘She almost matches him in height—certainly in those heels!’

‘Yes, but she’s so much younger than he is, that’s what I meant,’ the other woman elaborated. ‘This… Alicia, I believe, was much nearer his age. Still, he’s certainly picked one young enough and ripe enough to have his babies. She looks as though she’ll conceive every time he sneezes! And what with being so willowy and vulnerable looking—no wonder he couldn’t resist her! She must bring out the protective instinct in him!’

They both laughed, a muted sound drifting out across the dark waters of the Thames and the fairy-lit city.

Unable to face them, numbly Taylor had retreated inside.

When she had challenged Jared later about his being involved with a married woman, his reply had been surprisingly curt.

‘Who have you been talking to?’ he had wanted to know, flinging open the door to the wardrobe.

‘It was just something I overheard,’ she said.

He had sworn under his breath when she repeated her question.

‘She was separated from her husband when I met her. He had a car accident and she went back to him. That’s all there was to it,’ he said.

But it wasn’t, Taylor thought, seeing in that strong face—absorbed as he unfastened a cuff-link—an unmistakable tension that spoke volumes.

‘Did you want to marry her?’ she had asked tentatively, to which he responded only with, ‘I married you.’

‘Did you love her?’ She hadn’t intended to ask him so directly, nor had he been expecting her to, she reflected, forever afterwards hearing those hard and angry words he had lobbed back at her.

‘Yes I loved her. Are you satisfied? I had an affair. It’s something I’m not proud of, but it happened. Now let’s forget it,’ he had seethed through gritted teeth, before storming out of the bedroom.

Which was easier said than done, Taylor thought now, because she had tried. Nevertheless, the doubts and anxieties had seeded themselves in her mind, causing unnecessary tensions between them, sprouting up with renewed vigour every time he went away. The situation wasn’t helped when sometimes, answering the phone, she heard the line go dead at the other end, or when someone ringing from his office innocently asked her if she knew when his flight would be in from Philadelphia. He had told her he was going to New York, and that, she knew, was the truth, but he hadn’t mentioned going on to Philadelphia. So why had he kept it from her? she had asked herself, too aware that Philadelphia was where this Alicia lived. Why, unless he had had some very strong reason to feel guilty about it?

Unsure of him, plagued by long-buried insecurities, she had thrown herself wholeheartedly into her job, her mind made up about one thing.

She would never have children. Never entertain bringing babies into a marriage that wasn’t one hundred per cent secure.

When Jared had suggested starting a family, she had told him she wanted to wait—that she wasn’t that bothered about having children at all. Keen for an heir to succeed him in the company he had built single-handed, it was then, after several attempts on his part to change her mind had failed, that he had accused her of being interested only in her career.

‘And what’s wrong with that?’ she had flung at him, remembering all too painfully that conversation on the balcony, adding that if he had just got married to have children, then he should have married someone who would have happily provided him with them.

Angrily then, he had tossed back, ‘I thought I had!’

So that was it, she had thought, broodingly, watching as he poured himself a Scotch and soda in the apartment’s luxurious sitting room, challenging him with, ‘Is that the only reason for our marriage?’

‘Don’t be so stupid,’ he had said coldly.

But the doubts and resentments had festered and grown. After that, whenever he broached the subject, she would simply clam up.

She couldn’t—wouldn’t! she’d assured herself, agree to have what might possibly turn out to be a tug-of-war child, not when she was so convinced that at any moment he might leave her for the woman he really loved.

When she had accidentally conceived, fears for her child’s future had made her anxious and uncommunicative, something to which Jared had been acutely sensitive, even if not to the reason why.

‘Perhaps this is what this marriage needs,’ he had stressed one evening, a couple of months into her pregnancy.

‘What?’ she had challenged. ‘Something to keep me in my place while you go off anytime and anywhere you please?’ Already battling with irresolvable insecurities, it hadn’t helped when he had told her in no uncertain terms to grow up.

With their relationship already floundering, he had flown off to the States for a conference with several of his American company’s hi-tech whiz-kids a couple of days afterwards, during which time Taylor had started to miscarry. When he returned ten days later, her pregnancy was over.

‘Well, that’s exactly what you wanted, wasn’t it?’ he said when, still numb and wretched with grief she told him she had lost the baby. He had looked, she’d thought—wondering if he had had a particularly gruelling conference— bleak-eyed, yet frighteningly grim.

Illogically blaming herself for losing her baby, wanting to hurt herself as well as to hurt Jared, not thinking straight, she had thrown back, ‘Oh, sure! I arranged for it to happen! Well, you were having such a good time with your mistress, weren’t you? Why not!’

His eyes were glittering with such intense anger she wondered now what had prevented him from actually hitting her as he had snarled back, ‘At least she wouldn’t sacrifice a child for her precious job!’ There was such an edge of steel to his voice that she knew that whatever feeling he might have had for her, until then, she had killed with that last rash retort.

It was, however, to Taylor, an admission that he was still involved with the other woman, and one that had propelled her into leaving. The very next morning after he had left for his office, she had scribbled him a note, laid her wedding ring on top of it and fled, and she hadn’t seen him again until today.

‘Mmm,’ Charity murmured expressively, jolting Taylor out of her painful retrospection.

‘Mmm, what?’ she pressed, agitated, quickly stowing away the glass she was still holding.

‘Just “Mmm,”’ the woman responded, as Taylor turned round again. She could feel her friend’s perceptive gaze resting on her flushed cheeks.

Craig was home and from the floor below she could hear water running in the pipes, caught the strains of one of his country CDs playing. Safe, homely Craig who liked nothing better than to be with his family, to put up a shelf and play the odd game of golf when his job as lighting technician allowed.

‘I suppose a man like Jared could be quite overwhelming to be married to,’ Charity expressed as though picking up on Taylor’s thoughts. ‘Forceful. Possessive. Exciting. I know I said I had a crush on him but if he had asked me out, I’d have been scared to death! I mean all that dynamism and vitality! And the sophistication that makes the hard-headedness behind it all so scary and… I don’t know… I don’t suppose I should say it to you but, well… thrilling!’

Charity’s eyes were bright from the teenage fantasies she must have woven over what was after all an acquaintance of her parents while she studied Taylor sagaciously, looking no doubt for some flicker of agreement in her friend. But all Taylor said dryly was, ‘And with a temper to match,’ because of course Jared Steele was all of those things.

‘Ah-ah,’ Charity breathed. ‘I wondered why he came down those stairs like a bolt of lightning without calling in on his way out as he promised.’

In one of the rooms below, Josh had suddenly started to cry.

‘He’s just the sort of man I would have picked for you, Taylor.’ Charity was already moving towards the door. ‘I’m sorry it didn’t work out.’

Taylor gave an outwardly nonchalant shrug. ‘We had our differences.’

‘With no chance that the two of you will ever get back together?’ Charity looked hopeful, but Taylor shook her head.

‘No,’ she answered, her lowered lashes concealing the pain in her eyes as she thought of their bitter arguments, remembered the conversation she had had with Jared earlier. ‘No,’ she said again, more adamantly this time. ‘No chance at all.’

Taylor was putting the finishing touches to the face of the young actress who was last on the set that morning. It was for a televised play and the outside shooting had been completed two weeks ago. Now it was just a matter of finishing the studio shots and, taking a break, several members of the cast and production team who had wandered into Makeup were sitting around, chatting and drinking coffee.

‘… didn’t think when I arranged to pick them up at lunchtime that they’ll be defrosted by the time I get them home.’

One of the production assistants was bemoaning her stupidity over some desserts she had bought for dinner. Concentrating on blending blusher across the young actress’s cheeks, Taylor wasn’t really listening until she heard her own name mentioned.

‘Just give them to Taylor to hold for the afternoon,’ Paul Salisbury was advising dryly. ‘That should keep them frozen.’

Tall and blond, Paul was a brilliant photographer who believed his prowess with women was all due to his good looks and his success with a camera. With Taylor, however, he had had his grand opinion of himself sadly shattered, she realised, when she had refused to go out with him—or with any man, she had determined bitterly, even if she weren’t still married—which was why, she decided, Paul had been sniping at her ever since.

‘I’ll have you know, Taylor is a very warm and sensitive person,’ Craig Lucas, mug in hand, perched on the edge of a table, lobbed back.

Dear unassuming Craig, Taylor thought, sharing a smile with the man with twinkling brown eyes, whose tawny head was bent slightly forward—as though he were uncomfortable with his long lean frame, she had often thought— grateful for the unnecessary but caring way he had leaped to her defence.

He was, however, looking towards the door, just as everyone else was and, glancing curiously over her shoulder, Taylor stifled a small shocked gasp.

‘How—how did you get in here?’ she stammered, her pulses quickening under the dark brooding gaze of the man who had just come through the doorway. Security was stringent and no one could get in without a pass.

‘I told them who I was and that I wanted to see you,’ Jared answered casually.

And that would have been enough, with that daunting air of authority and that core-hard confidence, Taylor thought grudgingly, to overcome the hardest obstacles.

She saw the withering glance he directed at Craig and wondered if he had heard the technician’s complimentary remarks about her; heard what Paul had said. She couldn’t help noticing though how the long dark coat and immaculate dark suit seemed to give Jared an edge over the younger men, over the rest of the production team and over her, dressed as she was, like they all were, in casual sweaters and jeans.

As if on an unspoken order, the others were already trooping out.

‘There,’ Taylor said, having made a great show of ignoring him by brushing powder from the girl’s cheeks and standing back at last to examine her work. ‘Now go out there and do your best.’

Getting to her feet, the actress scarcely glanced at her reflection, concentrating only on sending Jared a blatantly inviting smile before leaving them to join the others.

Disconcerted at being alone with him, Taylor began tidying her cosmetics, discarding used tissues, fastening lids on jars.

‘I take it you came here to discuss… what we were talking about the other day.’ Somehow she couldn’t bring herself to say the word ‘divorce’. It hurt enough to realise that he hadn’t wasted any time in getting back to her. But that was pride, she told herself. Nothing more. ‘If that’s the case…’ she was tossing brushes into a tall plastic holder ‘… I hardly think we can talk here.’

‘Exactly,’ that deep voice agreed. ‘Which is why I’ve booked lunch for us both in a quiet little restaurant I know, so if you’d like to get your coat, we can be on our way.’

‘Now wait a minute!’ Slamming down a pot of cleansing cream in front of the brightly lit mirror, Taylor faced him with her arms folded, supported by the shelf below the bank of mirrors that stretched along one wall. ‘Aren’t you rather jumping the gun just a bit? What makes you think I can just drop everything and follow you like some obedient little pet dog?’

‘Your receptionist—or whoever it was I spoke to when I telephoned earlier. She said you were doing your last job of the morning and that you’d probably be finished within half an hour.’

‘Oh, did she?’ Swinging back to her task, Taylor opened a drawer, dropped a few items into it and slammed it closed again. ‘Well, I’ve got news for you, Jared. I still can’t come with you.’ There was a defiant air to her fine features as she delivered with just a shade of smugness, ‘I’ve got a dental appointment first thing this afternoon.’