In Separate Bedrooms

Talking about it was the very last thing Mattie wanted to do! But she really didn’t have a choice in this case. ‘I suppose I’ll have to.’ She sighed heavily.

‘Does it merit coffee or hot chocolate?’ her mother probed; in the past, coffee had always been chosen for a minor indiscretion, hot chocolate for a really major one!

Mattie looked forlorn. ‘In all honesty, I think this one may call for a glass of whisky!’

Her mother’s blonde brows rose almost to her hairline; none of Mattie’s confessions had ever merited whisky before! But over the years there had certainly been a lot of them; more often than not the impulsive Mattie acted first and thought later. This definitely sounded like one of those occasions.

‘Back to the house, I think,’ her mother decided ruefully.

Mattie followed reluctantly, knowing the next few minutes were going to be far from pleasant. Not least because she now suspected her mother might have been right in her initial summing up of the situation. Mattie probably had overreacted to Jonathan Beauchamp—because of the two-timing Richard!

Not that she had changed her mind about Jonathan Beauchamp’s behaviour—not in the least!—but maybe she wouldn’t have done quite what she had done if it weren’t for her own humiliating experience where Richard had been concerned.

Her mother made them both tea rather than the suggested whisky, the two of them sitting down at the table in their cluttered but comfortable kitchen, four dogs milling affectionately around their feet.

‘Well, Matilda-May?’ her mother prompted after several minutes of Mattie sitting staring broodingly into her teacup.

Mattie winced at the use of her full name. ‘I wish you wouldn’t call me that,’ she protested. ‘In fact, I think it was very unkind of you to name me that at all. Just because your mother was named Matilda, and Dad’s was called May, was really no reason—’

‘Mattie, you can delay this as long as you like,’ her mother cut in crisply, ‘but in the end you’re still going to have to tell me what it is you’ve done,’ she reasoned.

Mattie swallowed hard, sighing deeply before speaking. ‘You remember the womaniser?’

‘The woma—? Oh, you mean the man you were telling me about earlier, the one who has four girlfriends?’ her mother recalled.

‘That’s the one,’ Mattie confirmed awkwardly. ‘Well, Jack Beauchamp is Jonathan Beauchamp!’ she burst out. ‘Him. It. He’s the womaniser!’ she revealed reluctantly. ‘What I mean is—’

‘I think I get your drift, Mattie,’ her mother acknowledged dryly. ‘He’s the man you were so angry about earlier today? The man whose secretary placed his order with you yesterday to send out four bouquets to his numerous girlfriends?’

Mattie took a quick swallow of her tea, burning her mouth in the process. But, in the circumstances, she decided, she probably deserved the discomfort!

How could she have been so stupid? So unprofessional? At the time she had thought she was being so clever; having now met Jack Beauchamp she had no idea how he was going to react to what she had done. But she could probably take a pretty good guess …!

So much for her own job of running a successful florists, for some lucrative contracts she also had to service the plants and greenery at half a dozen office complexes—JB Industries being one of them. And Jack Beauchamp was JB Industries!

If he decided to turn nasty over what she had done, she might just find herself losing all of those contracts, and the florist’s shop too! As for her mother being allowed to look after the man’s dog—!

‘Yes,’ Mattie confirmed flatly.

‘But you dealt with his order, didn’t you?’ Her mother looked puzzled.

‘Oh, I dealt with it, all right,’ Mattie agreed, giving another wince at what else she had done. ‘You see, I had delivered four bouquets for him to those four women at Christmas—’

‘I suppose that shows he’s been involved with the same four women for the last four months at least,’ her mother reasoned.

‘The thing is,’ Mattie began reluctantly, ‘his secretary gave me the order, and he—he had already written out four cards to go with each bouquet. And I—Mum—I changed the cards around!’ she admitted guiltily, utterly dismayed herself now to realize exactly what she had done.

She was twenty-three years old; it was high time she stopped doing things like this!

‘And he wasn’t even original,’ she continued in her own defence as her mother looked stunned by the admission. ‘He had written “Sandy, much love, J”, “Tina, much love, J”, “Sally, much love, J”, and “Cally, much love, J”, and so I—well, I thought perhaps they ought to be made aware of each other’s existence. So I put Tina’s card in with Cally’s bouquet, Sandy’s card in with Tina’s, Sally’s card in with Sandy’s, and Cally’s in with Sally’s. I know it was a stupid thing to do, but I— Mum, you aren’t crying, are you?’ She looked worriedly across the table at her mother as she suddenly buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking emotionally. ‘I’ll go to him, I’ll explain what I did, tell him—’ Mattie broke off as her mother dropped her hands to look across at her, her own eyes widening incredulously as she saw her mother was laughing, not crying!

‘Oh, Mattie, Mattie.’ Her mother shook her head, still choked with laughter. ‘You most certainly will have to go and explain things to him. Quite how you’re going to do that, I have no idea.’ She sobered slightly. ‘I thought the Richard incident was disastrous, expected his fiancée to turn up on our doorstep demanding an explanation right up to the morning of the wedding!’ She shook her head wearily. ‘But this …!’

‘Be fair, Mum,’ Mattie protested. ‘The Richard thing wasn’t exactly my fault. There was no way I could have guessed he was already engaged.’

‘No,’ her mother acceded with affection. ‘But, you have to admit, this latest escapade is certainly the biggest Mattie mess-up so far.’ She gave another shake of her head as she obviously tried to contain the laughter.

So far? After this Mattie never intended interfering again! Ever!

‘It isn’t funny, Mum,’ she responded reprovingly at her mother as Diana lost the battle with her laughter and began to chuckle once again.

‘No, it isn’t,’ her mother agreed, tears of laughter falling softly down her cheeks now.

‘Then I wish you would stop laughing!’ Mattie sighed, then even her own mouth began to twitch with the same laughter. ‘He’s going to kill me,’ she realized. ‘String me up by my thumbs. Hang me from the nearest tree—’

‘Darling, if he does the first one he really won’t need to bother with the second and third,’ her mother reasoned, wiping the dampness from her cheeks with a tissue before offering the box to Mattie.

‘He looks the type who would do them just for the fun of it!’ Mattie muttered, blowing her nose noisily with one of the tissues, not sure now whether she wanted to laugh or cry herself; Jack Beauchamp, if he chose, had the power to ruin her!

Her mother gave a rueful shake of her head. ‘I suppose you did definitely deliver those bouquets yesterday?’

But they both knew her question was rhetorical. Mattie made a point of always delivering bouquets and floral arrangements at the time requested. It was one of the reasons that she had so many regular customers. Although she doubted she would be able to continue to list Jack Beauchamp amongst their number after this weekend’s deliberate mix-up!

‘If it’s any consolation, Mattie, Jack Beauchamp wasn’t sporting any visible wounds this afternoon that could have been given to him by an outraged girlfriend!’ Her mother grinned.

‘It isn’t,’ Mattie returned heavily; she might feel a little less devastated if she knew something positive had resulted from her—she admitted it now!—latest reckless action. A black eye, at least from one of the women might have made her feel her actions had been justified! ‘I absolutely hate the thought of having to go to the man and telling him what I’ve done,’ she admitted.

Her mother nodded. ‘Having met Jack Beauchamp, I can understand that. But I also have a feeling that if you don’t go and see him then he’ll be coming in to the florist’s to see you tomorrow, anyway!’

Mattie had the same feeling. And it was probably better to be at least half in charge of the situation rather than completely on the defensive. Besides, this didn’t just affect her; possibly she had also jeopardized her mother’s booking to board Jack Beauchamp’s dog over the Easter weekend.

The weekend. When he was going away to Paris with his family.

His family …

Maybe she wouldn’t have to go quite so apologetically on bended knee, after all; if Jack Beauchamp already had a wife and family, then he shouldn’t be sending flowers to other women in the first place!

She began to hope that, perhaps, she might be able to salvage her own professional reputation from this mess, after all. Jack Beauchamp could hardly make too much of a fuss over those wrongly addressed cards on the flowers without causing some domestic discomfort to himself.

Better to think positively, she told herself firmly. After all, what could the man really do to her …?

She felt rather less sure of herself the following day when she faced Jack Beauchamp across the width of the imposing desk in his equally impressive office!

She had intended going to his home the previous evening, but the address and telephone number he had given her mother were those of his offices in the City, leaving Mattie with no choice but to wait until Monday to speak to him.

She had worried all evening, and hardly slept through the night, as she imagined at least one of his girlfriends having contacted him concerning the wrongly named card attached to her bouquet.

Her mother had looked at her across the breakfast table this morning, had taken in at a glance the heaviness of Mattie’s eyes, and the strained look on her face, handed her a cup of coffee, and, without speaking a word, gone outside to feed her canine guests.

Which was just as well, because Mattie hadn’t felt like talking. Not that she felt like talking now, either, but she knew she didn’t have any choice in the matter this time!

It didn’t help that Jack Beauchamp looked much less approachable today in a dark business suit, cream shirt, and neatly knotted tie, than he had when he’d visited the boarding-kennels yesterday.

But he looked calm enough—he didn’t have the look of a man whose personal life was imploding!

Oh, well, she chivvied herself along even as she drew in a deep breath, she might as well get this over with; delaying any further wasn’t going to make it any easier.

‘Mr Beauchamp—’

‘Jack,’ he invited lightly, sitting back in his high-backed leather chair to look across at her assessingly.

Now why couldn’t he have been more friendly yesterday, Mattie thought to herself. Not that it would have made her confession today any easier, but it would certainly have been more pleasant—

‘My secretary explained that when you phoned first thing this morning you said it was urgent you see me today.’ Jack Beauchamp sat forward to rest his arms on the desk.

Of course Mattie had said it was urgent that she needed to see him—once she had told Claire Thomas who she was, because that was the only way the other woman would agree to fit her into Mr Beauchamp’s busy schedule for a few minutes before lunch. Although, Mattie had been warned, Jack Beauchamp did have an appointment at one o’clock.

As it was ten minutes to that hour now, she had better get this over with!

‘Is there a problem with Harry’s booking for the weekend?’ Jack Beauchamp frowned.

‘Not that I know of,’ Mattie dismissed hastily. ‘I—I’m not here in my capacity as my mother’s assistant.’

Dark brows rose over chocolate-brown eyes as Jack Beauchamp’s expression became speculative now. ‘No?’ he drawled, some of yesterday’s warmth returning to those come-to-bed eyes. ‘Then why is it so urgent that you see me?’

Certainly not for the reason he seemed to be imagining, Mattie thought impatiently. Really, the man was back in seduction mode again!

She had deliberately dressed in a businesslike way herself today, in a navy blue suit and pale blue blouse, in the hope that it might give her the necessary boost of confidence she needed to tell him about the mix-up with the cards. As she felt the dampness of her palms, the inner panic that made her want to turn tail and run, she knew that ploy had failed utterly!

She grimaced. ‘I don’t actually work at the boarding-kennels, Mr—er, Jack,’ she corrected herself. Try and keep this pleasant, she instructed herself firmly.

Who knew? There was always the possibility that he would see the funny side of this.

Oh, yes? she instantly taunted herself. In the same circsumstances, would she?

No, of course not—but then she would never have got herself into such a romantic tangle in the first place. But hadn’t she done exactly that—albeit unwillingly—with Richard …?

‘You don’t?’ Jonathan Beauchamp mused softly now. ‘Then exactly what is it that you do, Mattie?’

He had known her first name all the time! Well … probably not all the time, she conceded, but no doubt her mother had casually dropped it into their conversation somewhere yesterday. And yet he had insisted on continuing to use the formality of her surname … Not a good sign!

‘I actually work for you—well, not exactly,’ she amended, ‘but you are one of my clients, and—’

‘Mattie, could you stop and go back a few steps?’ he interrupted her, laughter now lurking in those warm brown eyes and around those finely chiselled lips. ‘Before I go off on completely the wrong tangent, perhaps you had better tell me exactly what your profession is?’

What did he mean, a wrong tangent? Exactly what did he imagine—?

‘I’m a florist, Mr Beauchamp!’ she told him coldly as a certain profession sprang to mind. ‘I am the proprietor of Green and Beautiful,’ she added for good measure, glaring at him as her thoughts lingered briefly on that other profession.

How dared he—? How could he—? Did she look like—?

Mattie’s mind went blank, her mouth dry, as she saw the dawning realization on his face—a face that was rapidly darkening with what looked suspiciously like—

‘Ah,’ he said slowly—as if he had suddenly been given the answer to a riddle that had been bothering him. ‘In that case, could this urgent need to see me today possibly have anything to do with the mix-up concerning the cards I requested be included with the delivery of certain bouquets over the weekend …?’

At least one of those four women had been in contact with him, after all!

Mattie was sure she must have a sick expression back on her face. If only—

‘I was actually going to contact you myself later today,’ Jack Beauchamp continued, no warmth in that chocolate-brown gaze now—in fact, his whole expression had suddenly become enigmatically unreadable.

‘I had a feeling you might,’ Mattie acknowledged quickly.

‘And you thought you would circumvent that visit by coming here to see me instead?’ he prompted in that silkily soft voice.

‘Yes,’ she confirmed abruptly. ‘You see, I—I was checking through some papers yesterday evening, and realized I had made a terrible mistake—’

‘Did you indeed …?’ he interjected, standing up to move around the desk with surprising speed for such a large man. ‘Exactly when yesterday did you say you had realized your error?’

Even wearing two-inch heels Mattie had to tilt her head back to look up into his face. Not that she was sure she wanted to! He was altogether too close, and she really had no idea what his mood was. Although she was sure it couldn’t be pleasant, not after the havoc she had probably wreaked in his personal life!

‘I told you, it was yesterday evening. I really am sorry—’

‘Mattie, interesting as this conversation undoubtedly is, could we possibly continue it over dinner this evening?’ he cut in after a brief glance at his wrist-watch. ‘You see, I have a luncheon appointment in two minutes, and—’

‘No, we could not continue this conversation—or indeed, anything!—over dinner!’ Mattie burst out disbelievingly. In fact, she couldn’t believe he had actually asked her that!

He raised dark brows. ‘No?’

‘No!’ she snapped incredulously.

‘Why not?’ he pressed.

Her eyes blazed deeply blue. ‘For one thing—you’re a married man!’ she reminded him forcefully. ‘For another—you already have at least four girlfriends that I know of!’

There, she had said it. So much for coming here and claiming the mix-up with the cards had been a simple mistake—which was the excuse she had come up with during her wakeful hours early this morning. But what else was she supposed to do when the man was now actually daring to try and add her to his list of women?

She glanced up at him, quickly looking away again as she realized he was standing much too close to her. With the desk behind her, and Jack Beauchamp standing in front of her, she had no means of escape if he should—

‘Jack …? Am I too early for our luncheon appointment?’

Mattie gave a nervous start at the sound of an intrusive female voice, at the same time acknowledging that she and Jack Beauchamp must have been so intent on each other that neither of them had heard the other woman open the door and enter the room.

Jack Beauchamp’s eyes narrowed on Mattie briefly before he stepped away from her, a smile curving his lips now as he turned to greet the other woman. ‘Not at all,’ he assured her smoothly. ‘Mattie and I were just finalizing our arrangements for this evening,’ he added with a pointed glare in Mattie’s direction.

A glare Mattie was totally immune to, her whole attention focused on the tall woman who had just entered the office.

She was beautiful, her luxuriously thick hair falling in ebony waves to just below her slender shoulders, blue eyes sparkling with health and vitality, make-up understated on the ravishing beauty of her face. The fitted blue dress she wore—expensive by its cut—was the exact same colour as her eyes, her legs looked long and silky, her feet small and delicate in strappy black sandals.

‘Mattie.’ Jack Beauchamp took a firm hold of her arm as he pulled her forward to stand at his side. ‘Let me introduce you to my sister, Alexandra.’

His sister? Did he really expect her to believe that?

The other woman gave a questioning look in Jack Beauchamp’s direction before turning to Mattie. ‘Lovely to meet you, Mattie.’ She smiled warmly, her voice huskily attractive. ‘I do apologize if I’m interrupting,’ she added. ‘Claire wasn’t in her office outside, so I let myself in.’

‘Not at all,’ Mattie assured her nervously, wishing Jack Beauchamp would let go of her arm. It wasn’t that he was particularly hurting her, she just wasn’t comfortable with the tingling sensation that was moving from her wrist to her shoulder! ‘I was just leaving, anyway,’ she excused, deliberately stepping away from Jack Beauchamp so that he had no choice but to release her arm.

Except that he didn’t, his dark gaze challenging on hers as he maintained his grip. ‘We haven’t settled the details for this evening,’ he insisted. ‘You said dinner is out, so how about I pick you up about nine o’clock and we go and have a quiet drink together somewhere?’

How about they just forgot about the whole thing?

Except, Mattie realised Jack Beauchamp didn’t intend letting her off that easily.

‘Okay,’ she finally agreed reluctantly. ‘If that’s what you want to do.’

‘It’s what I want to do, Mattie,’ he echoed decisively.

‘Fine,’ she snapped, looking down to where his hand still clasped her arm, taking a relieved step back as he finally released her. ‘Until nine o’clock this evening, then,’ she muttered.

He gave a slight inclination of his head. ‘I’m looking forward to it.’

Well, Mattie certainly wasn’t!

What was he going to say to her? More to the point, what was he going to do about her act of sabotage on his personal life?

CHAPTER THREE

‘YOU changed those name cards over on purpose, didn’t you?’

Mattie, in the process of taking a sip of her glass of white wine, swallowed too hastily, the liquid going down the wrong way and choking her.

She coughed and spluttered, the wine instantly going up her nose as well as down her windpipe, her eyes and nose watering as she tried to control herself.

‘Here.’ Jack reached over and gave her a helpful slap on the back as he sat beside her in the corner booth of the country pub he had driven them to.

Almost knocking Mattie off the seat in the process!

Had there been any need to slap her on the back quite that hard? Mattie didn’t think so. Besides, it hadn’t helped—she was still coughing and spluttering, several people in the bar turning to give her sympathetic looks.

Which was more than Jack Beauchamp was doing—amusement seemed to be the main emotion in those laughing brown eyes and the curve of his mouth!

‘Blow your nose,’ Jack instructed dryly, handing her a snowy white handkerchief.

Mattie did so. Noisily. And it did help. Only her eyes were watering now.

‘Feeling better?’ Jack enquired as she mopped up the moisture from her face and eyes, at the same time sure that her mascara must have run down her cheeks.

Yes, it had, she realized with an inward groan as she looked down at what had once been a pristine white handkerchief, but which was now streaked with brown stains. Oh, well, the way she looked was the least of her problems!

And how could she possibly be feeling better after what he had just said to her? He knew she had swapped those cards over on purpose!

‘Thank you,’ she said tautly, crushing the handkerchief in the palm of her hand; she doubted he would want it back now that she had blown her nose on it!

Jack Beauchamp had arrived at the bungalow promptly at nine o’clock this evening. Which was just as well—because Mattie had been standing at the end of the driveway waiting for him. She didn’t want him any nearer in case he alerted her mother as to whom she was spending the evening with.

She had assured her mother, when she’d arrived home from work a few hours earlier, that the situation with Jack Beauchamp had been settled, that he accepted her explanation of a mistake being made, that he wouldn’t be cancelling his booking for Harry this weekend. All she had to do then was convince Jack Beauchamp of that!

His opening comment had seemed to put an end to that particular hope.

She cleared her throat noisily before speaking. ‘I did try to explain to you earlier—’ before his luncheon date arrived! ‘—that I had realized my mistake over the weekend—’

‘You did,’ he conceded dryly. ‘But your subsequent remark about a wife and four girlfriends seemed to imply something else.’ He quirked dark brows over mocking eyes.

Mattie winced as she clearly remembered making that particular comment in his office earlier.

‘Don’t you think?’ he prompted mildly before sipping the half-pint of beer he had ordered for his own drink.

Perhaps if she had thought more before delivering those flowers on Saturday— But that was her problem: she didn’t think, just acted!

She wished she didn’t have to think now, either! Because the more she thought about what she had done, the more she realized just how completely unprofessionally she had behaved. It was none of her business if one of her clients had a dozen girlfriends who had no idea of each other’s existence; she was just paid to deliver flowers, not make moral judgements. Or act on the latter!

‘You see, Mattie.’ Jack spoke pleasantly as he turned more fully towards her.

To the onlooker it would have seemed as if he just wanted to get closer to her. But Mattie easily recognized he had trapped her more securely in her corner seat. Not that she was thinking of running anyway. She wasn’t stupid enough to think she would get very far; Jack Beauchamp might spend his weekdays sitting behind a desk, but he had the physique of a sportsman.