Living With The Enemy

‘I deserved it,’ Lucy muttered awkwardly. ‘But apology accepted anyway.’ She gulped a breath, conscious of the tears that were threatening to overwhelm her. When people were kind, she cried—it was an equation that she didn’t know how to overcome.

‘It’s OK,’ Alex murmured gently, brushing a finger across her damp cheek. ‘Tears don’t frighten me. You don’t have to feel embarrassed.’

‘I don’t want to cry!’ She hung her head as she fought to prevent her tears. ‘I’m sick of feeling miserable, of being an object of pity.’

‘Self-pity?’

Lucy looked up. He could be remarkably brutal when it suited him. ‘Maybe,’ she whispered.

‘Honesty.’ A half-smile twisted the corners of his mouth. ‘I approve. Don’t be too hard on yourself,’ he added firmly. ‘No one’s perfect.’

‘Not even you?’ Her attempt at lightness almost killed her, but she felt proud that she had managed it when she saw his smile.

‘Not even me.’

She couldn’t reply. Another light-hearted retort would have been the best, the safest approach then—something flippant to defuse the tension in the far too personal nature of their conversation. But she knew it would be impossible. She recognised brooding compassion in Alex’s expression and swallowed back the lump in her throat. ‘Don’t!’ she croaked, shaking her head. ‘Please—!’

He took no notice. Deep down, Lucy knew, she hadn’t wanted him to.

Alex pulled her towards his solid frame, and the tears that she had held back for so long streamed like a torrent down her pale cheeks.

CHAPTER TWO

LUCY had expected a quick hug, had counted on being released after a few short seconds. But the holding just went on and on.

She wanted it to; that was the shocking thing. The fact that she craved the feeling of the firm, male body pressed so effectively against her own stunned her absolutely. Never before had she experienced such an overwhelming need to be held, to keep on being held—never with her husband, that much was certain.

The grieving widow. It indicated so much and yet revealed so little. Lucy closed her eyes and gripped Alex’s shirt tightly.

‘Are you OK?’

His voice was deep and husky and that made it worse—more difficult to disentangle herself. She felt weak with confusion. How could she feel this much physical awareness of a man she didn’t know and certainly didn’t much like?

‘Lucy?’ Insistent hands slackened her hold. Alex leaned back and tried to look into her face. ‘Will you look at me?’

‘No!’ She didn’t want to see that gaze. Too dark and attractive, too perceptive, he would recognise and understand the sexual attraction which had sprung out of nowhere and had to be repressed at all costs.

Lucy had felt guilty enough before; for weeks before Paul’s death she had been wishing that her marriage would end, that he would exit her life and leave her in peace, but now she felt even worse.

A widow of less than two months and already wanting another man.

Any man? she wondered miserably. Or just this one?

‘Don’t touch me!’ Lucy found the strength she needed from somewhere and tugged fiercely. Immediately she found herself released. ‘What do you think you’re trying to do?’ she cried. ‘Make me go mad?’ She wiped the tears from her face with the back of her hand and then, half stumbling away from him, ran into the house.

Let him think her crazed and deranged, she thought. What did she care? She knew better than anyone what a mixed-up young woman she was. She just couldn’t cope with Alex Darcy mixing her up any more.

He followed her, and she knew instinctively that that spelt trouble. Confrontations clearly didn’t frighten the life out of him the way they did her. She turned and faced him in the hallway of the house, conscious of herself, of him, of the cool interior and the deathly silence that enveloped them both as they looked at one another.

‘Just leave me alone!’ Lucy muttered unsteadily. ‘Stop pestering me!’

‘Pester—?’ Incredulous exasperation crossed Alex’s face. ‘What on earth are you talking about?’

‘Harassing me, then!’ Lucy amended hurriedly, conscious that she was only making things worse as he drew in a dangerous breath and took a step towards her. ‘Oh, I don’t know!’ she added almost wildly. ‘But, whatever it is, stop doing it!’

‘I held you because you needed comfort,’ Alex replied crisply. ‘You seemed glad of it at the time.’

‘You seem to imagine too much!’ Lucy flashed. ‘I was confused, that’s all. I wasn’t thinking straight. Maybe I do need someone to hold me, but not you! Never someone like you!’

‘Someone like me?’ She saw the line of his jaw harden, the dark eyes narrow as he repeated her words. ‘What are you talking about?’ He walked towards her. No menace in his steps, just an irrepressible intent. ‘Lucy, calm down! Working yourself up like this is not the right thing to do, believe me.’

‘I...I’m not worked up,’ Lucy asserted weakly, conscious as she took a faltering step backwards of the roughness of the stone wall behind her. ‘You can’t do this to me!’

Dark brows were raised quizzically. ‘Do what?’ he enquired, frowning. ‘What is it I can’t do?’

‘You know,’ Lucy whispered, watching as jet-black eyes lingered on her face. ‘You know very well.’

‘No, Lucy, I don’t.’ He shook his head slowly, looking at her with eyes that held humiliating puzzlement. Then his expression cleared and he added softly, ‘It was just a platonic hug. Nothing to worry about.’

‘I know, I know!’ Lucy’s denial was a fraction too swift, a fraction too unsteady.

‘But you wanted it to be something more? Is that what’s worrying you? Look, it’s nothing to be ashamed about,’ Alex insisted smoothly, watching Lucy’s rigid face. ‘We all have different needs, different ways of coping. You shouldn’t feel guilty about the way your body reacts. Is that why you pulled away and fled like a scared rabbit?’ He reached out and touched her cheek with the palm of his hand. ‘Is it?’

‘You are so arrogant!’ Lucy snapped, jerking away from his touch. ‘What makes you think I would ever want to—?’

‘I was talking hypothetically,’ Alex cut in sharply. ‘Sexual needs don’t always vanish into thin air because a partner dies. You still want your husband, you miss the physical side of your relationship; it happens.’

Lucy muttered an incoherent curse beneath her breath. He didn’t understand. He thought like all the rest—that she still yearned for Paul, still wanted him here beside her. The truth was that Paul had been the furthest thing from her mind when Alex had held her. ‘You sound like a psychiatrist! ’ Lucy murmured unsteadily. ‘Thank you, but I had more than enough analysis at the hospital!’

‘Lucy!’ Something in his tone made her take notice.

She glanced across and frowned. ‘What?’

Alex didn’t speak immediately. Lucy saw a flicker of indecision cross the angular features and wondered whether he was about to tell her that maybe she should leave, that it probably was for the best that they called a halt to the arrangement here and now. ‘I’m not the sort of man who plays games; you need have no fear of that.’

Lucy kept her gaze as steady as she could. ‘I’m pleased to hear it.’

More hesitation. More intrigue. There was something he seemed to want to say—something difficult maybe... ‘I know what it’s like to lose someone you love.’ Dark eyes held hers with magnetic force and Lucy knew that she couldn’t look away even if she wanted to. ‘Charles sent you here because he trusts me,’ Alex continued, in deep, vibrant tones. ‘I want you to trust me, too.’

‘I’m not very good at trusting people,’ Lucy replied stiffly. ‘I trusted Paul and—’ She halted abruptly, conscious that she had a need to confide again.

‘And what?’

‘Please!’ She shook her head and stared up at Alex imploringly. ‘I really don’t want to talk about it.’

‘I’m pushing too hard.’ He smiled—a warm, relaxed curve of his mouth that sent Lucy’s pulse racing all over again. ‘Sorry.’

She had a choice: keep it polite and cool, so that Alex was left in no doubt about how she wanted things to proceed, or try and make an effort, show him that underneath the panic she could respond like a perfectly sane and happy human being.

‘Again?’ she murmured. There was a hint of a smile, a slight lifting of an eyebrow. It had been the right choice; somehow the tension melted away.

“Fraid so.’ Dark eyes sparkled magnetically, and Lucy found her smile widening, despite everything that had gone before. ‘That’s better. You know...that smile...’ Alex raised a hand, as if to touch the very thing which he was talking about, and Lucy held her breath, watching his compelling face in fascination, her emerald eyes glued to the taut, dynamic features.

The tension was back, or had it never gone away? Would he touch her mouth? Would he?

It seemed not. A firm line replaced the smile; the stunning eyes grew dark and daunting. Alex lowered his hand suddenly and turned away. ‘I’ll make a start on dinner!’ he informed her with crisp precision. He walked away towards the kitchen. ‘Why don’t you go upstairs and get changed?’

‘I could help.’ Lucy followed him through the stone archway and down the steps, watching as he opened cupboards and drawers with angry, jerky movements.

‘It’s OK.’

‘But I don’t mind, honestly! It will be nice for me to do something constructive for a change—’

‘Didn’t you hear what I said?’ Alex turned and faced Lucy and there was brutal impatience in his expression. ‘I don’t need your help.’ He breathed in and Lucy saw the effort he needed to school his features into milder lines. ‘Honestly. This is your first night here, so I’ll do the work. Maybe tomorrow. How about that?’

‘There’s no need to speak to me as if I’m a child.’ Lucy’s voice was quiet but full of intensity. ‘I’ll go upstairs,’ she added swiftly, forestalling any reply. ‘As you ordered.’

The loggia—a wonderful open-sided balcony that in daytime afforded breathtaking views of the lush green hills and the distant, sparkling blue sea beyond—was the sort of place you saw in glossy magazines.

It was still very warm, despite the lateness of the hour. Lucy took some salad from the bowl that Alex was holding out to her and busied herself with arranging the crisp green leaves on her plate.

He looked even more sensational than before. He had showered and changed since preparing dinner and now he was wearing a pristine white shirt and cream trousers which emphasised the deepness of his tan and the glossy darkness of his hair.

‘So, how do you plan to spend tomorrow?’ he asked.

Lucy tried to keep her voice suitably neutral. ‘Oh, just lazing around, I suppose.’ She deliberately avoided eye contact, concentrating instead on buttering a crusty roll. ‘A walk, perhaps; a dip in the pool—if it’s all right with you, of course,’ she added hurriedly.

‘Fine. Do whatever you wish,’ Alex replied evenly. ‘You have the run of the place whilst you’re here, so you may as well make the most of it.’

‘Thank you.’

‘My pleasure.’

Lucy got the impression that he was laughing at her, although when she risked a glance his gaze was perfectly impassive. Their eyes met and Lucy looked down hurriedly. She felt dreadfully self-conscious under Alex Darcy’s vibrant eyes—uncertain, unsure of herself in relation to him.

After months of not caring how she looked, she had this evening found the inclination to arrange her long auburn tresses into a more sophisticated style, tying her long, fiery hair with a bright yellow silk scarf so that it fell in thick waves over one shoulder. Lucy adjusted the strap of her sundress self-consciously. It was a plain garment, but the simple lines suited her slender figure, and the pale lemon of the fabric contrasted well with the richness of her hair and the sudden glow that was rising up from her throat to cover her face.

Had Alex noticed that she had made an effort with her appearance? Did he like what he saw? She watched as his gaze briefly scanned her body, but he didn’t say anything, so she supposed not.

Lucy gave an inward sigh. She felt disappointed, and that was ridiculous. Common sense told her that Alex Darcy was used to far more stunning sights than she. Just because she had spent over an hour getting ready...

‘You can look upon tomorrow as a fresh start,’ Alex declared. ‘Believe me, this place has incredible healing powers. You’ll wake up tomorrow morning with the warmth of the sun on your face, wander outside onto the terrace, pick fresh oranges for your breakfast... I guarantee you’ll feel like a new woman in no time.’

‘I hope so.’ Lucy took a sip of chilled mineral water and concentrated purposefully on the darkened view. ‘I’m not particularly keen on holding onto the old one.’ There was an awkward pause. ‘Warm sun will be a real change,’ she added, frantically trying to keep the conversation upbeat, ‘after the weather we’ve been having in England—it’s been one of the coldest springs on record.’

Dark brows were raised sardonically. ‘Again?’

‘Did you leave England to escape the weather?’ Lucy ventured, unable to deny her sudden interest in the man opposite her.

The tone of his voice changed; it became wooden, slightly edgy. He picked up a fork and speared some food. ‘It was one of the reasons.’

There were others, clearly. Lucy wondered what they were, but something about Alex’s demeanour told her that further enquiry would not be particularly welcome, and she wasn’t sure that she had the nerve to pursue it. ‘Charles mentioned you haven’t returned in a long while. Don’t you miss the old country?’ she enquired lightly.

‘No.’ Alex held Lucy’s gaze without flinching. ‘Why? Should I?’

His expression was suddenly harder, almost cold. ‘No...no, of course not.’ There was to be no discussion at all about England; that much was clear. Lucy glanced down at her plate to avoid the formidable chill that had appeared in Alex’s eyes. ‘I just thought that—’

‘I have no reason to return, no ties that bind me.’ Alex glanced around the loggia, then turned in his chair to look at the view behind. ‘This is my home now.’

‘You have no family?’ Lucy queried hesitantly.

‘No. My parents died a few years ago.’ There was a significant pause. ‘I will be working all day tomorrow,’ he continued, handing a bowl of succulent-looking pasta to Lucy, precluding, with the sudden change of subject, any more obviously unacceptable enquiries of a personal nature. ‘In my study. That is the only place I would prefer you not to enter whilst you are a guest here. I have a deadline I must meet, so if I don’t emerge until dusk, or even beyond, don’t worry.’ His mouth twisted in sudden amusement. ‘I’ll still be alive.’

So, he doesn’t like personal talk, Lucy mused. She wondered why not. Did Alex Darcy have parts of his life that he preferred not to talk or even think about? Was there pain in his past too? It was an intriguing thought.

‘Charles mentioned that you are a writer,’ Lucy murmured, after several seconds had passed. She forked the moist tagliatelle into her mouth and found that for the first time in weeks she actually wanted to go on eating. ‘It sounds exciting.’

Safer ground now. Lucy looked across into the handsome face and saw that the smouldering tension had eased a little. ‘Hardly that,’ Alex replied drily. ‘Satisfying, though, when things go well.’

‘But you’re successful, aren’t you?’ Lucy insisted. ‘Some of your books have been turned into films. I’m not a great reader, but I can remember Charles getting all excited a couple of years ago because a friend of his was short-listed for the Booker Prize—that was you, wasn’t it?’

‘You astonish me.’ Alex looked at Lucy with mild surprise. ‘I didn’t think Charles held my writing career in particularly high regard.’

‘Oh, he does!’ Lucy replied. ‘He’s not the dry old stick that everyone assumes he is! Do you hope to repeat your success?’

Alex lifted his shoulders in a shrug and proceeded to tuck into his plateful of food with healthy enthusiasm. ‘Always hoping. But who can tell? I’m working on it.’

Lucy glanced across with interest. She hadn’t had a conversation that didn’t seem to link up with her own predicament in a long while and it felt wonderfully refreshing to take an interest in somebody else’s affairs for a change. ‘Where do you get your ideas from?’

Alex waved a negligent hand. Lucy sensed that he wasn’t particularly interested in the subject, or maybe his lack of enthusiasm came about because it was a subject that he had discussed so many times with so many people. His friends. Who were they? What were they like? Suddenly Lucy found herself wanting to know.

‘Oh, in the shower, when I’m out walking, watching a sunset...eating a meal...’ He flashed a smile and even white teeth gleamed in contrast against the deeply bronzed face. Lucy felt warm, as if the sun had deigned to shine upon her. ‘The oddest moments.’

‘But you like what you do?’ she persisted.

‘Yes,’ Alex admitted. ‘It’s a creative challenge if nothing else.’ There was a slight pause as he contemplated Lucy’s interested face, then he added, ‘Who am I trying to kid? I love it. I wouldn’t want to do anything else. When a story works well, when the book has been published and is selling like hot cakes ... well, then it’s absolutely exhilarating.’

Lucy stared out towards the hills. ‘That’s what I need,’ she murmured. ‘A new venture. Something good and solid that I can work at. To be a success. If there’s one thing Charles likes it’s success. That’s why I’m such a disappointment to him. He would have loved it if I had entered one of the traditional professions—lawyer, doctor, any of those.’ Lucy raised another forkful of food to her lips. ‘Incidentally, how did you and Charles meet?’ she added. ‘He usually spends all his time with men in dark grey suits.’

‘And you can’t see me in one of those?’ Ebony eyes glimmered in sudden amusement.

She found her gaze lingering on the firm, muscled chest, the tanned forearms, the strength of neck and shoulders. ‘Not at the moment, no.’ Lucy returned Alex’s smile and found to her amazement that she was beginning to relax. ‘Was it through work? It must have been—Charles doesn’t believe in play; he says he thrives on being dull and boring.’

‘I was on a committee he was chairing,’ Alex replied briefly. ‘We went for a drink after a particularly gruelling session and found we hit it off. You know, underneath that rigid exterior you have a stepbrother who happens to possess quite a dry sense of humour!’

‘Oh, I know! He isn’t quite as staid as he looks! I just wish he would let himself go a little more.’ Lucy picked up her glass again. ‘So Charles was chairman, was he?’ she added. ‘He revels in all that power; that’s why he’s a politician, I suppose. Was it to do with the arts?’ Lucy thought about it and frowned. ‘I don’t recall Charles having anything to do with that sort of thing. He’s usually involved with far more boring subjects, like finance.’

‘It was a long time ago,’ Alex replied shortly. ‘A part of my life that simply doesn’t exist any more. Before my writing career took off,’ he added, as if that were sufficient explanation.

‘Oh, so you haven’t always been a writer, then? I assumed—’

‘Dangerous to assume!’ Alex cut in swiftly. He flashed her a sensational smile and expertly diverted the conversation. ‘Drama school. What was that like? Did you ever get any acting work?’

‘A couple of small parts in children’s series. Two or three advertisements for television. I got my Equity card, which is something, I suppose.’

‘You didn’t stick with it?’

‘I don’t think I had any real talent. My tutors were quite encouraging, but...’ Lucy hesitated. ‘I had met Paul by that time, anyway,’ she added briskly.

‘So?’ Dark brows were raised in query. ‘Why should that stop you? You did want to be an actress, I presume?’

‘It didn’t stop me.’ She realised that her voice had come out sounding rather strident She modified her tone and added, ‘Somehow everything seemed to get sidetracked, that’s all. Paul thought I’d be better off going out and getting a proper job.’

She could feel Alex’s eyes upon her, assessing what she had just said, but she didn’t return his gaze. She’d done it again: revealed herself to him, given him food for thought—told him more than she’d ever told anyone. ‘We wanted to set up home and there were things we had to buy,’ Lucy added hurriedly. ‘We needed the money.’

‘Your husband—’

‘I don’t want to talk about him!’

‘I was just going to ask if he had a career,’ Alex murmured. ‘Don’t worry; nothing too personal. I got my head bitten off once before, remember? I’m not quite ready to have it bitten off again.’

‘I’ve been a bit of a pain, haven’t I?’ Lucy murmured. ‘Sorry.’

‘You’ve had a hard time.’ Alex’s tone was crisp and matter-of-fact. ‘It’s understandable.’

‘Paul didn’t like to be tied down to regular work. He did have a job when I met him,’ she added quickly, wondering why she was bothering to say any of this, ‘but after a couple of months he got laid off.’

Lucy risked a glance across the table and saw that Alex appeared less than interested. Why don’t you just come right out and say he was sacked? she asked herself. Be honest about it. Paul’s dead. You don’t have to cover up for him any more!

‘He had more of a hippy attitude, really,’ she continued. ‘He sort of drifted.’ Lucy looked at Alex and managed at least a modicum of honesty. ‘For a while I found myself drifting too.’

She looked at him then, saw the frown, the vague disapproval in his expression. Clearly he didn’t like slackers. ‘I got a position in an office, but I ... I didn’t feel too well for a while, and I decided to give it up.’

‘Nothing serious, I hope?’

Serious? Lucy lowered her head to her plate and remembered how easy it was to lose her appetite. Was having a baby serious? It was important, she knew that much. Devastating when you lost it, or were made to lose it...

‘I hated office work anyway,’ she continued hurriedly. ‘It was a relief to leave.’

‘So, you’ll be trying something new? Maybe you’ll pick up the pieces of your acting career?’

‘I doubt it,’ she murmured. ‘All that feels as if it happened centuries ago. I’ll probably end up in an office again.’

‘Are you always so defeatist?’

Lucy looked across, surprised by the sudden vehemence in Alex’s voice. ‘I’m just being...realistic,’ she replied haltingly.

‘No, you’re not!’ He shook his head and threw her a disparaging look. ‘You’re just taking the easy option. How it annoys me when people settle for second best.’ Dark eyes flashed across the table at her. ‘Why don’t you fight for what you want?’ he demanded. ‘If you hate the way your life is going, then do something about it!’

‘Easy for you to say,’ she returned quickly, ‘sitting there with a successful career and your independence!’

‘They weren’t handed to me on a plate,’ Alex delivered with cool precision. ‘I had to work hard to get where I am. Years of slog in a profession that I ended up hating. Years of rejection slips one after another, with no one believing in me except myself.’

‘But you’ve got talent; you can do something—!’

‘And you can’t?’ Smouldering dark eyes bit into her. ‘You’re saying you’re useless?’

‘No! Yes!’ She shook her head and felt a wash of desolation sweep over her. ‘Oh, I don’t know!’

‘Well, I suggest you find out!’ Alex replied crisply. ‘You need to start looking at your life, at what you want to achieve. You can’t drift for ever, Lucy. The future has to be faced.’

‘I know that! I don’t need you to tell me!’ she retorted angrily. What on earth had made her think that this man possessed any sort of compassion? She stood up, scraping her chair back from the table, listening to the sound of her cutlery as it fell from her plate to the floor. ‘You’re so damned sure of yourself!’ she exclaimed. ‘It makes me sick! I didn’t come here to be lectured to; I came here to recuperate!’