Shattered Illusions

It had been no contest, he mused now, half-bitterly. His infatuation for his stepmother had been too strong, and Catriona, damn her, had known that from the start. Apart from anything else, she’d banked on the fact that he’d do nothing to hurt his father—even if he had drawn the line at being involved in the production of his stepmother’s books.

His father’s sudden death of a heart attack at the age of sixty-four had changed a lot of things. Not least the fact that Catriona was now free to do whatever she liked. Less than three months after his father’s funeral, she had let Dominic know that she knew how he had always felt about her, and that there was no reason now for her to deny the fact that she reciprocated his feelings. She’d said she’d always known that her marriage to Lawrence Redding had been a mistake, but that luckily she still had plenty of time to make amends.

But that had been too much, even for Dominic. Coming close on the heels of the unwelcome news that his father had expected him to take over as nominal head of Goldman and Redding, he had felt stifled. He had never wanted to work for his father’s firm, and although his feelings for Catriona hadn’t lessened they had altered. He still wanted her, of course he did. But he had no intention of abusing his father’s memory by bedding his widow almost before he was cold in his grave.

But the fact remained that, although Catriona had inherited the house on Bermuda, where she’d written all her best-sellers, and the bulk of his father’s personal fortune, Lawrence Redding had left the publishing company to his son. And although Dominic had trained as a lawyer, not an editor, and had been working for a successful firm of attorneys in Boston at the time of his father’s death, he’d felt obliged to resign his position and move to New York.

Which was probably the biggest mistake he’d ever made, he conceded now, pushing his hands back into his pockets and staring broodingly over the pool. With Catriona as his client—as well as his would-be lover—he was struggling. He knew as well as anyone that if he offended Catriona, and she found an alternative publisher, Goldman and Redding would suffer.

But what else could he have done, given the terms of his father’s last will and testament? Lawrence Redding had wanted him to take over the running of the company; he’d wanted him to produce Catriona’s books in his place. God, hadn’t he ever suspected how Dominic felt about her? Or was this his way of showing that the two of them had his blessing?

Dominic scowled. There really was no reason for him to continue resisting the inevitable. Catriona was right; it was over a year since his father’s death. There was nothing—and no one—to prevent him from making them both happy. So why didn’t he go upstairs now and finish what he’d started a few minutes ago?

But still he stayed there, and presently a pair of curiously knowing grey eyes drifted across his inner vision. He wondered how Catriona’s solemn-faced secretary would react if she knew what he was thinking. Would she get some vicarious thrill from picturing them together, or would she be disgusted by the overtones of incest inherent in the relationship?

The latter, he suspected brusquely, the urge to go and give Catriona what she wanted rapidly fading. The moment when he might have given in was past, and his mood had darkened. Deciding to forgo breakfast, he pushed the door open again and left the building. In this frame of mind, he was better on his own.

CHAPTER THREE

‘DO YOU drive?’

Jaime looked up with a start. Something, some sixth sense perhaps, had warned her she was no longer alone, and she slipped the earphones down around her neck. She had spent the afternoon transcribing the tape of letters Catriona Redding had recorded that morning, and she blamed the fact that she was tired for the disturbing ripple of awareness that spread along her veins at that moment.

Dominic Redding was propped in the doorway of the small office that adjoined Catriona’s study, his hip lodged against one side of the frame, his hand braced against the other. He looked as if he’d been working out: his cotton shorts were clinging to the powerful muscles of his thighs and his grey vest was soaked with sweat. She could smell the heat of his body, even though there were several feet between them. It was not an unpleasant scent, but the knowledge of what she was thinking brought an unwilling trace of colour to her cheeks.

‘Um—what did you—?’

She hadn’t seen him since the previous morning, when he’d come upon her so unexpectedly beside the pool, and she’d begun to think he must have left the island. He’d told her he lived in New York, after all, and surely he couldn’t have much in common with his stepmother.

‘I asked if you could drive,’ he repeated, at her stammering response, and Jaime knew her prevarication had been necessary. She wasn’t used to being disconcerted by a man, and this man put the kind of thoughts into her head that she hadn’t had since she was a teenager. For heaven’s sake, she chided herself, irritated by this evidence of what she regarded as her own immaturity. She’d been holding her own in the male-dominated world of the university since she was eighteen. What on earth was wrong with her now?

Dominic Redding was speaking again, and she forced herself to concentrate on what he was saying. ‘Catriona seldom uses a car herself, and I thought you might be interested in seeing a little more of the island. It’s Saturday tomorrow, so I guess it’s your day off.’

‘Yes.’

‘Yes, what?’ His dark eyes were unerringly intent. ‘Yes, you can drive, or yes, you’d like to see more of the island? There’s a twenty miles an hour speed limit in operation if you’re nervous.’

‘I’m not nervous.’ Jaime was used to driving her father about London, but she didn’t want to go into that. ‘And yes, I can drive. I’ve been driving for—well, for years.’

‘Great.’ A lock of damp dark hair flopped onto his forehead and he thrust it back with an impatient hand. ‘So—how does the idea grab you? I believe the shops in Hamilton are pretty good.’

Jaime let her hands rest on the keys of the word processor, taking care not to put any weight on them. It was kind of him to think of her, she thought, trying to get his suggestion in perspective. Two days of working for Catriona had persuaded her that she would be unlikely to think of such a thing. Catriona was, quite simply, the most self-motivated person she had ever met.

‘I—it sounds good,’ she answered at last. ‘But I’m not sure if Miss Redding will expect me to work.’

‘Well, okay.’ He shrugged. ‘Let me know if you decide to take me up on it. There’s an open-topped four-by-four that’s seldom used.’

‘Thank you.’

Jaime was grateful—and for the interruption, too. She had been typing almost solidly for the past couple of hours, and for someone who was more used to grading essays the consistent glare of the computer screen was tiring. Her eyes were probably red-rimmed with exhaustion, she thought gloomily, wondering what Dominic Redding must think of her. Not that it mattered, she assured herself with feeling. He was not the kind of man who attracted her.

‘You’re welcome.’

His drawling response was vaguely ironic, but she hardly had time to evaluate his humour before the door to Catriona Redding’s study was jerked open. ‘For heaven’s sake, Miss Harris,’ she was exhorting as she stormed into her secretary’s room, ‘must I remind you that I’m trying to work in—? Oh!’ This as she saw who Jaime had been talking to. Her tone changed to one of guarded approval. ‘Dominic!’ She moistened her lips. ‘Were you looking for me?’

‘Oh, I think I’d know where to find you,’ he replied, with a strangely mocking expression on his face. ‘No. As a matter of fact, I came to see your secretary. I’ve offered her the use of the Toyota.’

Catriona’s mouth tightened. ‘Have you really?’ she remarked, linking her long fingers together at her waist. ‘I don’t recall you asking my permission.’

Dominic’s eyes narrowed. ‘I didn’t think it was necessary.’

‘No?’

‘No.’ His jaw compressed. ‘The vehicle never leaves the garage, for God’s sake!’

‘Nevertheless—’

‘Nevertheless, it’s yours, is that it?’ Dominic countered angrily, straightening his spine against the jamb. ‘Well, okay. Forget the car. I’ll take her myself. I assume the Harley-Davidson is still mine?’

Catriona’s face crumpled. ‘That won’t be necessary,’ she said, and now Jaime was amazed to see what looked like tears sparkling at the corners of her vivid blue eyes. ‘If—if I don’t need it, of course she can use the Toyota. I was just being bitchy. I’m sorry. I’ve been half out of my mind since you took off.’

Dominic looked impatient now, and Jaime wondered why his stepmother’s mood swings should cause such acrimony between them. Catriona was like a child, she thought incredulously—perverse and malicious one minute, appealingly tearful the next. She acted as if her stepson’s good opinion was all that mattered to her, and Jaime knew a sudden sense of unease that had nothing to do with her own position in the household.

And, as if realising that she was an unwilling spectator to their confrontation, Dominic pulled a wry face. ‘Hey, I need a shower,’ he said, including both women in his sweeping gaze. Then, addressing himself to Catriona, he added, ‘We’ll finish this discussion later. Ask Sophie to send me up a couple of beers, will you?’

‘I’ve got some beer in my fridge!’ exclaimed Catriona at once, gesturing at the room behind her. ‘And I’m—dying to hear what you’ve been doing. Samuel said he thought you’d gone to the marina—’

‘Later,’ said Dominic, once again including Jaime in his response. ‘You don’t want me to catch another chill, do you? This air-conditioning’s fixing to freeze my—’ he grimaced ‘—toes!’

Short of causing another unpleasant scene, there was little more Catriona could say, and with a rueful nod in Jaime’s direction Dominic disappeared out of the door. Leaving a distinctly chilly atmosphere behind him, thought Jaime unhappily. An atmosphere that had nothing to do with the air-conditioning at all.

Alone with her employer, Jaime fixed her gaze on the computer screen that only moments before she had been grateful to avoid. But somehow she had the feeling that anything she said might precipitate an argument, and that, far from backing down, in this case the woman would enjoy the opportunity to make someone else look small.

‘Have you finished yet?’ she asked at last, and Jaime had no choice but to make eye contact with her.

‘I’ve finished typing your notes,’ she replied pleasantly. She touched the Dictaphone. ‘But I’m not sure how many letters are left on the tape.’

Catriona took a deep breath. ‘Do you find it interesting?’ she asked. ‘The manuscript, I mean.’ The previous day they had spent organising a working schedule, and this was the first opportunity Jaime had had to transcribe the handwritten pages. ‘My previous secretary used to give me her opinion.’ Her lips twisted. ‘Poor Kristin; she didn’t have a clue.’

Jaime swallowed. ‘I think it’s very interesting,’ she said, not falling into that trap. If Catriona was looking for a fight, she could look somewhere else. She had no intention of jeopardising her position by attempting to guess what her employer wanted to hear.

Catriona seemed to grow impatient, and brushed a scarlet nail across Jaime’s knuckles where they rested on the keys. ‘So tactful,’ she said. ‘So efficient, too.’ She paused, and the younger woman knew an almost overwhelming impulse to move away from her. ‘I hope you’re not going to prove too good to be true.’

Jaime caught her lower lip between her teeth, and bit down hard. The pain steadied her. ‘I hope not,’ she managed politely, resisting the urge to replace her headphones and end this conversation once and for all. ‘Would you like me to print the pages I’ve already typed?’

‘That won’t be necessary.’ Catriona’s tone hardened. ‘No, I suggest you print them and check them yourself before passing them on to me. I shall expect a faultless copy when you’ve finished. Let’s hope you have no more distractions, shall we?’

Jaime caught her breath, sensing they were coming to the crux of what Catriona really wanted to say. She wasn’t hanging about here just to annoy her secretary. She wanted to explain what had happened earlier—to justify her own behaviour, so that Jaime wouldn’t get the wrong idea.

‘Um—Mr Redding only stopped off in passing,’ she said, and then wished she hadn’t when Catriona impaled her with an accusatory gaze.

‘In passing?’ she echoed. ‘Do you know where Dominic has been?’

‘Of course not.’ Jaime now found herself in exactly the position she’d hoped to avoid. ‘I just meant—he was only here for a few minutes.’

‘I know exactly how long he was here,’ retorted Catriona coldly. ‘I know precisely the moment when you stopped typing and started flirting with him.’

Jaime gasped then. She couldn’t help it. ‘I—I wasn’t flirting with him,’ she protested, even though her scarlet cheeks probably proclaimed just the opposite. ‘He—he asked me if I could drive. That was all.’

‘Really?’ Catriona regarded her between narrowed lids. ‘Well, if you didn’t flirt with Dom, you must be the first woman he’s met who hasn’t done so,’ she declared contemptuously.

Jaime lifted her shoulders. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Oh, don’t be sorry.’ Catriona was impatient now, as if regretting her earlier outburst. ‘But he is a dangerously attractive man, don’t you think? Or do your tastes lie in another direction?’

Jaime stared at her. ‘I beg your pardon?’

‘Well, you are—what was it you put in your application? —twenty-eight?’

‘Twenty-nine.’

‘You see—’ Catriona spread her hands ‘—and you’ve never been married. Surely I can be forgiven for being curious?’

Jaime wanted to knock the smug expression off Catriona’s face, but she knew better than to show her hand that way. Instead, she sat there like some stiffly postured dummy, letting Catriona walk all over her.

She doesn’t know me, she kept telling herself; she doesn’t know who I am. If she did, it would be different. To her, I’m just another female, who might, or might not, become a nuisance so far as Dominic is concerned. Catriona is just laying out the ground rules; making sure her new secretary doesn’t get the wrong idea.

‘It’s not important,’ she said now, managing to sound as if it really wasn’t. ‘You needn’t worry, Mrs Redding. Your stepson is in no danger from me.’

‘Miss Redding,’ said Catriona irritably. ‘It’s Miss Redding. Please don’t forget. And I never think of Dominic as my stepson. He’s a man, and I’m a woman.’ Her lips softened. ‘Do you understand?’

Jaime felt suddenly sick. She could feel the colour draining out of her face now, and she prayed Catriona wouldn’t notice it, too. Dear God, what was she saying? That she and Dominic Redding were lovers? Jaime couldn’t believe it. It wasn’t possible. She had to be twenty years older than he was, at least.

‘Have I shocked you?’

To her horror, Jaime realised that Catriona was actually enjoying this. Now that she’d betrayed her sordid little secret, she seemed to be hoping that Jaime wouldn’t let her down. Catriona wanted her to show some reaction, preferably admiration. After all, Dominic Redding was a very attractive man. Jaime was not unaware of that.

‘I—it’s nothing to do with me,’ she muttered, wishing the woman would just go away and leave her alone. She’d had enough of feeling like a mouse in the paws of a rather vicious she-cat. In all her feeble calculations, she’d never allowed for this.

‘But it is to do with you,’ Catriona persisted, though to Jaime’s relief she moved towards the open door of her study. ‘After all, you’re a member of the household now. I want you to understand why I was so upset earlier.’

In a pig’s eye!

For all the chaotic state of her emotions, Jaime still knew a lie when she heard one. Catriona didn’t care what she thought of her. She just wanted to warn her that if she had any ideas about Dominic she should forget them—or take the consequences.

Like Kristin? Which might explain Sophie’s attitude, as well.

Schooling her features to an impassive blandness, Jaime chose the least provocative path she knew. ‘Will you be wanting to examine these pages tonight, Miss Redding?’ she enquired politely. ‘I should think I could have them checked in about an hour.’

The implications of what she had learned that afternoon struck Jaime more strongly that evening.

After Samuel had delivered her supper tray, as usual, she carried it out onto the balcony, and seated herself in one of the cushioned rattan chairs. Yesterday morning, Catriona had informed her that although they might sometimes have breakfast or lunch together she would be expected to dine in her own quarters. It was nothing less than Jaime had anticipated. She’d read enough books to know how live-in employees were usually treated.

Tonight, however, she could not maintain the spirit of objectivity that had carried her through the two days since her arrival. Restlessness, and the undoubted shock she had received when Catriona had spoken of her relationship with Dominic, had left her in a state of raw ambivalence. She no longer knew whether what she was doing was entirely sensible; she didn’t even know if she wanted to stay.

It had all seemed so simple in London.

Her father’s death, and the discovery of the newspaper clippings, had shed a whole new light on her own identity, and, although in the beginning she’d never had any intention of doing anything about it, seeing Catriona’s advertisement as she had had given her this crazy idea of applying for the job.

After all, she’d thought, if she could arrange it, what did she have to lose? She had no family ties to worry about, and it wasn’t as if it was going to be a permanent arrangement. All she’d needed was a couple of weeks’ leave-of-absence, and with the long summer vacation in the offing that hadn’t been a problem.

And, when she’d applied for the job, she hadn’t really believed that she might be appointed. After all, it was some years since she’d done any secretarial work, even if she used a computer to store her notes. There were so many competent secretaries in the market-place, but she was called for a second interview, and ultimately told that, subject to Catriona’s approval, the job was hers.

So where was the excitement now that she had felt then? Why had everything suddenly gone so flat? She knew the answer, of course—had known it from the moment Catriona had first walked into her study. When she’d regarded Jaime with that cold, assessing smile, she’d suspected then she’d made a huge mistake.

But then she’d determined to overcome her apprehension. She’d put her misgivings down to the way she was feeling, but now she was not so sure. She was beginning to wonder if the doubts she had had might not have been a warning. And she’d ignored it because the idea of flying over three thousand miles, just to turn around and fly back again, had seemed childish and immature.

She sighed. What had happened, after all, to cause all this soul-searching? Was it just because she’d found out Catriona was having an affair? For heaven’s sake, the woman’s sexual habits had nothing to do with why she had come here. It was natural that she should have a man in her life. She was a beautiful woman. So why not?

The truth was a much more personal thing than she wanted to acknowledge. Although she barely knew Dominic Redding—and had certainly no expectation that he might ever find her attractive—the idea that he might be having an affair with his father’s widow overstepped the bounds of decency, so far as Jaime was concerned.

Perhaps she was a prude; perhaps her opinion was hopelessly provincial. The world of the university did tend to insulate one from the more sordid side of life. Why should it matter to her what Catriona and her stepson did in the privacy of their own apartments? Wasn’t she judging them unfairly, without knowing any of the facts?

Whatever, the news had cast an uneasy shadow over the situation. She had had such high hopes when she’d come here, yet slowly but surely they were all being eaten away. But what had she expected from a woman who, twenty-seven years ago, had abandoned her husband and baby? She should have let Cathryn Michaels stay dead. Resurrecting icons was always a risky business...

CHAPTER FOUR

DOMINIC allowed the wave to carry him all the way in to the shore, and then pushed himself to his feet and walked up out of the ocean. Water streamed over his shoulders from the overly long hair that lapped at his nape, and he raised a careless hand to push back the heavy dark strands. He’d have to get it cut before he went back to the office, he reflected, and scowled as the connotations of that thought soured his mood.

Picking up the towel he had dropped on the beach, he dried himself vigorously, warming his cooling flesh. Although the ocean was several degrees warmer here than it was off the coast of New York state, at this hour of the morning it could still feel chilly. But the exhilaration of the experience always made him feel good.

Or it did usually, he amended, drying his thighs, and then reaching for his jeans. This morning, he’d used the excuse of going for a swim to avoid having to make a decision about when he was leaving. After last night, he knew he couldn’t put it off much longer.

Catriona had been particularly irritating the previous evening. Far from trying to understand his position, she had accused him of avoiding her, of avoiding any discussion about their future. She’d even asked if he found her new assistant attractive, as if that were relevant. He grimaced. She surely couldn’t imagine he was interested in Jaime Harris. For God’s sake, he’d been civil to the woman, that was all. Catriona’s constant carping about his treatment of other females simply wasn’t warranted.

He zipped up his jeans, leaving the button at his waist unfastened as he towelled his hair. Dammit, what kind of a life were they going to have together if she didn’t trust him? Since his divorce from Mary Beth, he’d never had another serious relationship.

He looped the towel about his neck, and stared broodingly towards the headland. Obviously the bug that had sapped his strength and brought him here was still infecting his system. Right now, he couldn’t think about the future with any enthusiasm at all. God, he didn’t even know what the future held, and the more Catriona pushed him, the more reluctant he was to placate her.

A shadow moved suddenly near the dunes that sloped down to the beach, and he stiffened. Dammit, he realised impatiently, it was that woman again: Jaime Harris. Had Catriona set her to spy on him as well?

The unlikelihood of that scenario brought a cynical compression to his lips. Catriona would never do that. Particularly not when the woman was younger than she was. More likely, she was still having a problem with sleeping. He knew what it was like to wake early in the morning and not be able to fall asleep again. He pulled a wry face. His being here at this hour was proof of that.

It was obvious from the way she was trying to melt back into the shadows that she was as unwilling to acknowledge the encounter as before. And he was tempted to let her go, without embarrassing her again. But what the hell? he thought. Maybe this was what he needed. Perhaps talking to someone else would lift the weight of his problems for a short while.

It couldn’t have been much fun for her so far. Working for Catriona all day, and then being expected to entertain herself every evening, was not his idea of the ideal job. He’d noticed that, despite his invitation, she hadn’t used the Toyota over the weekend. He suspected Catriona had kept her busy. When Catriona was in the throes of composition, she tended not to consider anyone’s needs but her own.

Abandoning his mood of introspection, he turned and looked directly at her, so that she was obliged either to acknowledge she had seen him or risk offending him by pretending she hadn’t. A faint smile touched his lips as he watched her indecision, although he guessed the outcome was a foregone conclusion. He could almost sense what she was thinking, as she hovered between recognition and rejection, but he wasn’t surprised when she gave in to his approach.