lifetime since he last saw her; it also seemed like the mere blink of an eye.
His chest contracted; he could hardly breathe. Is this falling in love? he thought. Is this how it feels? This dizziness, this intense concentration on one other human being—is this love? His eyes absorbed the tendrils of bright hair on her forehead, the wide eyes shining like a cat's in the dark, the slightly parted lips, as if she might smile at any minute.
It would be so easy to love her. Panic shot through him like fire through a house; he felt himself burning up, lost for ever.
He couldn't let it happen. He was too old for her. They came from such different places, worlds that never met. He moved in a world of ruthless drive, cold calculation, where the bottom line was always money and nothing mattered but success. Her world was based on family and warmth, love and duty; for her what mattered was always going to be people. If those two worlds collided it could only lead to pain, even destruction, for one or other of them, if not both.
It would be madness even to contemplate it—and he had always prided himself on being very sane.
What was he doing here? He shouldn't have come. Angry with himself more than with her, he burst out, 'I hope you're satisfied now. I came—but only because you used emotional blackmail. Well, it won't work twice. I am not seeing my mother again after this. I'll make her a decent allowance so that she can live comfortably, but there is no place for her in my life, is that understood?'
CHAPTER FIVE
'YOU'VE got a horrible temper,' Patience said. 'No need to shout at me. I'm not your conscience.'
'No, you're damned well not! So stop trying to make me feel guilty.'
She gave James one of those maddening stares, half smiling that little Mona Lisa smile of hers, her eyes bright with mockery, or amusement.
'I'm not trying to make you feel anything. Whatever you feel is entirely down to you.' She turned to go back inside and he caught her wrist to stop her, swinging her round.
Off balance, she collided with him and his whole body tensed with reaction.
For a second he really believed she was going to fall over; instinctively he put his other arm round her waist to support her, and the warmth of her flesh came through the thin, gauzy blue and green dress she was wearing, making a strange shiver run through him. He stared down at the scooped neckline which almost showed the rise of her small breasts, the tight sashed waist, the full, spreading skirt. The way the soft material clung to her made his mouth go dry.
This close he was breathing the scented air around her, the faint, delicate perfume in her fiery red hair, all over her slight body. He bent his head, as if stooping to smell a flower, and felt the warmth of her cheek against his.
His splayed fingers slowly moved down from her waist, with James only half aware of what he was doing, stroking and caressing the small buttocks, pushing her towards him while his lips slid sideways, hunting for her mouth.
He had to kiss her. Had to.
She didn't fight him, yielded wordlessly, her body bending under his fingers as if she were plastic, her lips softly parting as he kissed her. James shut his eyes and let himself fall into the warm, breathing darkness of the night, his mind as closed as his eyes, everything alive in him concentrated on the sensation of touching her, holding her, kissing her.
It was only at that instant that he admitted how much he had been wanting to do this ever since he set eyes on her, but before he could face his own emotions the intense pleasure of that moment was shattered abruptly when someone exploded out of the house and leapt on him, pulling him away from Patience. A fist crashed into his face. James was still dazed from that kiss.
He went over backwards, fell out into the drive in a dramatic sprawl, not even sure what had happened to him, only knowing that his cheekbone was throbbing, the back of his head was hurting and somewhere
His chest contracted; he could hardly breathe. Is this falling in love? he thought. Is this how it feels? This dizziness, this intense concentration on one other human being—is this love? His eyes absorbed the tendrils of bright hair on her forehead, the wide eyes shining like a cat's in the dark, the slightly parted lips, as if she might smile at any minute.
It would be so easy to love her. Panic shot through him like fire through a house; he felt himself burning up, lost for ever.
He couldn't let it happen. He was too old for her. They came from such different places, worlds that never met. He moved in a world of ruthless drive, cold calculation, where the bottom line was always money and nothing mattered but success. Her world was based on family and warmth, love and duty; for her what mattered was always going to be people. If those two worlds collided it could only lead to pain, even destruction, for one or other of them, if not both.
It would be madness even to contemplate it—and he had always prided himself on being very sane.
What was he doing here? He shouldn't have come. Angry with himself more than with her, he burst out, 'I hope you're satisfied now. I came—but only because you used emotional blackmail. Well, it won't work twice. I am not seeing my mother again after this. I'll make her a decent allowance so that she can live comfortably, but there is no place for her in my life, is that understood?'
CHAPTER FIVE
'YOU'VE got a horrible temper,' Patience said. 'No need to shout at me. I'm not your conscience.'
'No, you're damned well not! So stop trying to make me feel guilty.'
She gave James one of those maddening stares, half smiling that little Mona Lisa smile of hers, her eyes bright with mockery, or amusement.
'I'm not trying to make you feel anything. Whatever you feel is entirely down to you.' She turned to go back inside and he caught her wrist to stop her, swinging her round.
Off balance, she collided with him and his whole body tensed with reaction.
For a second he really believed she was going to fall over; instinctively he put his other arm round her waist to support her, and the warmth of her flesh came through the thin, gauzy blue and green dress she was wearing, making a strange shiver run through him. He stared down at the scooped neckline which almost showed the rise of her small breasts, the tight sashed waist, the full, spreading skirt. The way the soft material clung to her made his mouth go dry.
This close he was breathing the scented air around her, the faint, delicate perfume in her fiery red hair, all over her slight body. He bent his head, as if stooping to smell a flower, and felt the warmth of her cheek against his.
His splayed fingers slowly moved down from her waist, with James only half aware of what he was doing, stroking and caressing the small buttocks, pushing her towards him while his lips slid sideways, hunting for her mouth.
He had to kiss her. Had to.
She didn't fight him, yielded wordlessly, her body bending under his fingers as if she were plastic, her lips softly parting as he kissed her. James shut his eyes and let himself fall into the warm, breathing darkness of the night, his mind as closed as his eyes, everything alive in him concentrated on the sensation of touching her, holding her, kissing her.
It was only at that instant that he admitted how much he had been wanting to do this ever since he set eyes on her, but before he could face his own emotions the intense pleasure of that moment was shattered abruptly when someone exploded out of the house and leapt on him, pulling him away from Patience. A fist crashed into his face. James was still dazed from that kiss.
He went over backwards, fell out into the drive in a dramatic sprawl, not even sure what had happened to him, only knowing that his cheekbone was throbbing, the back of his head was hurting and somewhere
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