The Alpha Male

‘You threatened to abort the pregnancy if I followed you,’ Ryan reminded her brutally. ‘Did I ever do anything to make you that desperate?’

‘I’ll say it once more,’ Penny said with a sensation like an iron band around her heart. ‘I contracted encephalitis. I almost died in that hospital. And when I was finally myself again, I had to deal with the loss of my baby. I would have done anything to avoid that. But there was nothing I could do!’

‘Everything OK, love?’ Ariadne asked, returning from the workshop, where Miles had started hammering industriously.

‘Everything’s fine,’ Penny said in a dull voice.

Ariadne was staring at Ryan Wolfe with unabashed interest. In the few moments she had been in the back, Penny noticed ironically, she had found time to apply lipstick, brush her hair, lose the army greatcoat and unfasten the top button of her blouse to reveal the luscious curves of her breasts. In the absence of any inclination on Penny’s part to offer introductions, she waltzed in where angels would have feared to tread.

‘And this good-looking gentleman is…?’

Penny had no idea how best to answer that innocent question. My ex-lover. My nemesis. The phrases flitted through her head, but it was Ryan who answered.

‘I’m a prospective client,’ he said levelly.

‘Oh, goody,’ Ariadne purred. ‘Do you live locally?’

‘Yes.’ He glanced at Ariadne. A peony to Penny’s rosebud, Ariadne had curves that Penny would never match, and a coquettish manner to go with them. ‘I’m staying in Northcote Hall, on the Dover Road.’

‘Northcote?’ Ariadne repeated with interest. ‘Oh, we know it well, don’t we, Penny? Such a beautiful old place. Do you know the family?’

‘I’m renting the house for the moment,’ he replied. ‘I may buy it if it turns out to suit my purpose.’ He made it sound as though buying that beautiful country house was a mere bagatelle to him, and Ariadne positively glowed.

‘That’s wonderful news,’ she gushed. She was reacting to Ryan the way all women invariably did on first meeting him, Penny saw—greedy fish dying to bite that delicious bait, never seeing the steel hook that lay within.

Ryan shrugged slightly. ‘The important thing is that I plan to do a lot of entertaining there. I’m not married, and I need someone to take care of my table arrangements, flowers, décor, that sort of thing.’

‘Our speciality,’ Ariadne beamed. ‘Isn’t it, Penny? We’re the best there is.’

Whether Ryan had arrived with this story already concocted, or whether he was making it up as he went along, Penny couldn’t tell. ‘We’re already far too busy,’ she said in a clipped voice. ‘I’m sorry, but we really can’t take on any new clients at the moment.’

Ariadne didn’t miss a beat. ‘Please forgive my associate,’ she said, patting Penny’s shoulder, ‘she suffers from a rare speech impediment that makes her say no, no, no when she means yes, yes, yes. How often were you planning on entertaining…? I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name.’

‘Ryan Wolfe,’ he replied. ‘And I generally need to throw at least one dinner party each week, generally on weekends. Around twelve people, sometimes more.’

‘Perfect,’ Ariadne said. ‘We’re all dying of boredom here. I hope you’re going to bring all sorts of wonderfully interesting people to our little backwater! By the way, I’m Ariadne Baker. You obviously already know Penny Watkins. We’re the best you could get, Mr Wolfe. Penny’s doing the Lord Mayor’s banquet tonight, as a matter of fact—the flowers, the place settings, everything. If you can take a peek into the Hall tonight around seven, you’ll see what she’s capable of.’

‘I might just do that,’ Ryan said meaningfully.

‘I know she’s just a baby,’ Ariadne gushed. ‘A mere twenty-three. But so much talent, and with me to guide her—’

‘I understand,’ Ryan said drily.

‘When do you want to have your first dinner party, Mr Wolfe?’

‘Well, I’m still refurbishing the house. It needs some tender, loving care. If I can get it looking halfway decent, I might ask one or two people to dinner on Saturday.’

‘We do weddings on Saturdays,’ Penny said shortly. ‘We always have our hands full. Sorry.’

Ariadne squirmed. ‘But we can make space! If you give us the job, your party will be beautiful, believe me. All your parties will be beautiful.’

‘Sorry to interrupt again.’ It was Miles, his arms sprinkled with wood shavings. He leaned in the doorway, giving them all the benefit of the knowing smirk Penny had once thought so amusing. ‘Only, Hippy Dave has smashed your door good and proper. I’m going to need some planks.’ He rubbed thumb and forefinger together meaningfully. ‘The lumber yard won’t give me credit for my handsome face.’

Penny felt like an automaton as she broke away from the conversation, which had taken a nightmarish turn. ‘How much do you need?’ she asked, opening her purse.

‘How much have you got?’ Miles grinned. Before she realised what he was doing, he came over to her and threw an arm familiarly around her waist. Pulling her intimately close, so he could look in her purse, he dipped a sawdust-coated hand deftly inside, and came out with three or four notes. ‘This’ll do,’ he said.

While they’d still been going out, a few weeks back, that might just have passed as acceptable, but right now he knew he was about ten miles out of line.

And then he kissed her soundly on the cheek. ‘Thanks, darling,’ he said wickedly. ‘For an earth woman, you are surprisingly un-hideous.’

He walked out, looking very pleased with his sense of humour. Of all the times for him to decide to play the fool! She caught Ryan’s smouldering gaze on her, and felt his contempt. Unable to explain anything, she gave him a defiant look.

‘I’m sorry to disappoint you,’ she said coolly. ‘Whatever Ariadne may think, we’re very busy, and we won’t be taking on any new clients.’

‘Penny!’ Ariadne said urgently. ‘Of course we can take Mr Wolfe on!’

Ryan held Penny’s eyes for a moment longer, then checked his watch, a wafer-thin sliver of gold she had not seen before. ‘I have to be in London in two hours. But I’ll be back. I will attempt to persuade you otherwise. I can be a very generous employer.’

‘We’re interested,’ Ariadne said, obviously getting desperate as Ryan moved towards the door, ‘we’re very interested, Mr Wolfe! Won’t you take one of our business cards?’

The grey eyes examined her. ‘Please call me Ryan,’ he said coolly. ‘And I won’t forget to come back. I’m sorry to leave so abruptly. My timing is a little off key lately. I hope you’ll get used to it.’

‘Oh,’ Ariadne said, ‘we can work around your schedule, I’m sure!’

Ryan nodded his thanks, then stared into Penny’s eyes. His gaze was intense. ‘I’ll get back in touch. And when I do, I will want an explanation, Penny.’

His broad shoulders, snugly clad in sheepskin, swung through the door. It slammed shut.

Ariadne hurried to the blind to peer out. ‘Look at that car! My God! Sex on wheels!’

‘It’s just a car, Ariadne,’ Penny replied wearily.

‘I’m not talking about the car, baby.’ She watched as the sports car accelerated away, then turned to Penny with bright eyes. ‘I never met anyone who was truly magnetic before. But that man is! If I was a bunch of iron filings I’d be coating him in a fine layer!’

‘You practically were,’ Penny retorted.

‘It’s going to be such fun working for him! Why are you so anti?’

Ariadne tilted her head on one side. ‘You know him, don’t you?’ she said, her eyes narrowing to green slits. ‘He didn’t just walk off the street at eight o’clock in the morning. Who is he?’

‘He’s nobody.’ Tension was slowly ebbing out of her. The shock of being with Ryan after nearly twelve months of separation—and all that had happened in that time—had left her feeling weak. She sat behind the desk and rested her forehead in her hand, feeling nauseous.

‘Oh, yes, he’s nobody, all right,’ Ariadne said scornfully. ‘The most wonderful hunk to ever set foot in this staid old town, and he’s nobody? Who are you trying to kid?’

Penny looked up at Ariadne. Though Ariadne was practically a partner in the business, and a good friend, she knew nothing about her time in London or any of its consequences. She didn’t know a thing about Ryan, about their break-up, about the encephalitis or the miscarriage.

And if she knew what Ryan’s world was like, and the nature of the ‘wonderfully interesting people’ he was likely to bring to this staid old town, she would be even more stupidly infatuated with him.

‘I knew him some time ago,’ she said tersely. ‘It ended badly. That’s all.’

‘I knew it!’ Ariadne exulted. ‘And now he’s come back to find you?’

‘I think it’s just a horrible coincidence,’ she lied.

Ariadne gave Penny a shrewd look. ‘He’s rich, right?’

‘When I knew him, he was very rich,’ Penny confirmed.

‘So when he throws a dinner party, it’s really a big occasion?’

Penny made a face. ‘Yes.’

‘And he’s going to do this every week? Honey, whatever happened between you and him, we can’t afford to turn down that kind of money! We’ve got bills to pay, remember? Light, rent, flowers, the vehicles?’

‘I remember,’ Penny said, pressing her fingers into her eyes.

‘So when he comes back to you—you are going to say a big yes, aren’t you?’

Penny got up and walked out of the back. ‘We’ve got work to do. Let’s see these cream gladioli you’ve bought.’

‘You will, won’t you?’ Ariadne pressed, catching up with Penny. ‘You will say yes to the money?’

‘Money is nice, isn’t it?’ Penny said, swinging the back door of the van open to reveal a colourful mountain of fresh flowers. ‘But it depends what you have to do for it in return. Sometimes the price is just too high. Come on, we’re late already, and we’ve got a lot of work to do.’

Ryan’s arrival that morning had released a flood of memories and emotions that she’d been valiantly holding back behind some mental dam deep within herself. Though the day was so busy that she hardly had a moment to draw breath, Penny thought about him every second. Thought about what had existed between them, what they had shared and lost.

Most of all, she thought about the expression in his eyes when he’d accused her of aborting their child.

Naturally, he would see it like that.

It was true that she had made that horrible threat. But of course she’d never had any intention of ever carrying it out! She’d been desperate, and could think of no other threat that would stop him from following her. What had happened to her had seemed like a fateful punishment—though she’d already been sick with the brain inflammation that had almost killed her when she’d said those words.

Why had her letter never reached him? She remembered writing it.

When he didn’t reply, or come to her, she’d just assumed that he had been unable to forgive what she’d done.

That his silence was his answer.

But in those agonised days after she’d been discharged from St Cyprian’s, her mind had not been working properly. Perhaps she had never posted it. Perhaps even writing it had been a dream.

Certainly, Ryan had never come to her, though she had thought he would. She had been so alone, with no comfort and no hope.

He had not come, and she had moved on.

Now, as she worked busily in the banqueting hall, she reflected on how far she had travelled since those dark days. Penny had been determined that her previous life would just cease to exist, that she would make a brand-new start. And that was what she had achieved.

She was never going to be so madly unhappy again.

She looked down the high table with a critical eye. Everything looked beautiful! Each place setting was a work of art. Tara was still setting out the individual vases of flowers. Penny had made them low and wide, so they wouldn’t be knocked over easily, and so that Her Worship’s guests wouldn’t have to peer round them to talk to each other.

The big arrangements that flanked the tables had turned out spectacular, even though the yellow gladioli she had envisioned had been toned down to a more subtle cream.

And everything went perfectly with the big centrepiece she had set up in the square formed by the four long tables. That space was to have been left empty, but at the last minute she’d had a brainwave. She was particularly proud of that.

The mayor and her private secretary bustled in now to take a last look. Her Worship was a diminutive, fiercely energetic woman who prided herself on her modern views—which was why, Penny suspected, she had chosen a newcomer to do her banquet, rather than one of the well-established, but old-fashioned, town florists.

‘It’s exquisite!’ she enthused, patting Penny on the shoulder. ‘Truly magnificent, Miss Watkins. That centrepiece is wonderful!’

‘Thank you,’ Penny smiled.

‘A perfect autumnal note,’ the mayor went on. ‘The bare branches giving a home to new life, the old nurturing the new—it’s quite an illustration of my mayoralty, don’t you think, Daphne?’

‘Absolutely, Your Worship,’ the obsequious secretary chimed, her timing as perfect as a Swiss clock.

‘Very original, Penny,’ the mayor affirmed. ‘I don’t know where you creative people get all your ideas!’

Hippy Dave had helped with this one, though she could scarcely tell the mayor that; for the spectacular centrepiece was none other than the dead tree that he had brought to her workshop that morning.

Penny had attacked it with a saw borrowed from Miles Clampett, had trimmed it into a more elegant shape, then had decorated the bare branches with birds’ nests—each nest containing a brood of fluffy ‘chicks’—gold and silver ribbon and flower buds on the point of opening. Artfully lit with concealed highlighters, it looked stark and exciting.

‘I think you can count on my patronage next year,’ the mayor murmured into Penny’s ear as she left. ‘Well done, Penny!’

And thus, Penny smiled to herself, had the humblest of the mayor’s flock contributed to the banquet in no small way. She could almost forgive Hippy Dave.

Tara had finished setting out the posies. It was now over to the caterers and the master of ceremonies. She got ready to leave, winding her scarf around her slender throat. It had been a long, cold day, and she was looking forward to getting back to her own nest.

With a final word to Tara, she slipped out of the banquet hall—and straight into a pair of strong arms that closed possessively around her slim frame.

‘Not so fast,’ Ryan said.

‘What are you doing here?’ she gasped, looking up into his face.

‘Your partner suggested I take a look at your work,’ he said smoothly. ‘So here I am. Now, show me what you’ve done.’

She disengaged herself from his arms, her face still tight from the unwelcome shock. ‘It’s no big deal, Ryan. Look all you want. I’m going home.’

‘In a moment,’ he growled, catching her hand, his fingers twining possessively through hers. ‘I haven’t finished with you yet.’

‘Let me go!’ she hissed, trying not to make a scene in front of everybody.

But he was leading her remorselessly back to the table. ‘Very pretty,’ he said, his grey eyes taking everything in with that swift way he had. ‘Not very original, considering what you’re capable of—but pretty.’

‘It’s a mayor’s banquet, not a gathering of your glittering London friends,’ she retorted, stung by his faint praise. ‘They wanted pretty, not original.’

‘But I see you were unable to totally squelch your creative instincts,’ he said. ‘There is one authentic touch. That dead-tree arrangement is inspired.’

‘You like that, do you?’ she said drily.

‘Fledglings and flower buds on dead branches. Very symbolic.’ He was wearing a jacket cut from buttery Italian leather, which fitted him like a dream and smelled delicious. She remembered it well—she’d chosen it for him in Milan, and had given it to him for a birthday. She also remembered what had happened after that—how he’d draped the jacket around her slim, naked shoulders, how he’d made love to her wearing that, and nothing else. ‘There’s an empty space in the entrance of Northcote Hall. An arrangement like that would go very well there.’

‘I’m sorry,’ she said sweetly, ‘that piece is a one-off. I don’t repeat myself.’

‘Then think of something else,’ he said, his chiselled mouth quirking in a slight smile. She had always found his mouth devastatingly attractive, with its combination of authority and sensuality. As if he’d read her thoughts like a book, he bent his dark head and kissed her on the lips. The contact was electric, and she flinched. ‘Sorry,’ he said ironically, ‘did that hurt?’

‘You’re trespassing,’ she warned him.

He looked her over, taking in her less than elegant work clothes with a wicked smile. ‘Yes, I can see that you have “no trespassers” written all over you. Where were you skipping off to when I met you?’

‘Home.’

‘Good. I’ll come with you.’

‘You can’t!’ she exclaimed.

‘Oh? Why not?’

‘Somebody’s waiting for me there!’

One eyebrow lifted disdainfully. ‘That yokel who was pawing you this morning?’

‘Ryan, don’t do this,’ she said in a low voice. ‘We have nothing to say to one another.’

‘On the contrary,’ he said firmly. ‘There’s a great deal to be said on both sides. We need to talk, Penny. And we’re going to talk, whether you like it or not. We can talk here, in front of the mayor and her councillors. Or we can go somewhere more private. If you won’t take me to your place, then I’ll take you to mine.’

One glance at his face told her he meant it. She was not prepared to let him take her off to some unknown destination, so there was no choice.

‘I live around the corner,’ she said, capitulating.

‘And nobody is waiting for you there?’

‘No.’

‘Good,’ he replied. ‘Let’s get moving.’

They walked out into the cold evening air. It was already starting to freeze again, and Penny’s breath made a white cloud around her lips.

‘Why are you keeping up this charade about Northcote Hall?’ she asked him. ‘You don’t need to. Ariadne isn’t here to be impressed.’

‘It’s no charade,’ he replied.

She glanced at him sharply. ‘You mean you really are staying there?’

‘When I finally found out where you were hiding, I asked my people to find me a suitable rental as close to you as possible. A suburban bungalow would hardly suit my needs.’

‘Oh, hardly,’ she echoed with sarcasm. ‘The great Ryan Wolfe in a lowly semi-detached? Perish the thought.’

‘I meant only that I need to entertain. You know that. The people I work with are wealthy. They are used to things that—what was the word you used? Glitter. Northcote was the obvious choice. It’s been standing empty. The owners are desperate to sell. They’re renting it to me at a reasonable rate on the principle, “try before you buy”.’

‘The same principle you applied to me,’ she said brightly as they rounded the corner. ‘You’re such a good businessman, my dear. And oh, goodness, it looks as if your dashing sports car is parked right outside my house. I didn’t really need to tell you where I lived, did I?’

‘Why did you hide from me for so long?’ he asked her. ‘You’ve wasted a year of our lives, Penny. Do you have any idea how much effort and heartache I’ve invested in finding you again?’

She made no reply. His silver-grey car was indeed parked outside her front door. She walked past it and opened up. Ryan followed her into the dark interior.

‘Have you bought this place?’ he demanded as she switched on the light in the tiny hall.

‘I’m renting it from Ariadne’s sister.’ She knelt by the hearth and lit the fire she had prepared that morning. Flames licked swiftly around the logs. ‘It’s at the opposite end of the social scale from your Northcote Hall, but otherwise it’s exactly the same. It’s been standing empty for years and the owner is desperate to sell.’

‘You’ve made it beautiful,’ he commented, looking around at her décor.

‘My usual little touches of camouflage,’ she shrugged. ‘When the rising damp meets the sagging roof, I’ll have to move out.’

Ryan walked around the cottage, like a panther stalking round a new domain. He was looking at the paintings hanging on the walls and the sculptures that disguised ugly corners. He did not need to ask whether the art works were by her—by now he knew her style well enough.

Penny pulled off her coat and scarf and warmed her cold hands at the rising flames. ‘Do you want a drink? I’m going to have a whisky on the rocks.’

It was a drink she had learned to like with Ryan. He nodded, but made no other comment. While she poured the drinks, he was stroking the curves of a sculpture with one of his strong yet sensitive hands. ‘So you got to sculpt in wood, after all,’ he said.

‘Yes.’

‘You’re very good. And your style has matured,’ he said.

‘I’ve matured,’ she said.

‘I can see that. You have a lot more to say.’

‘To say?’

‘About yourself. About what you see in the world.’ He accepted the drink she offered him. ‘You’ve become an adult.’

‘How kind of you.’ She didn’t bother raising her glass in a toast, but took a much-needed gulp of the fiery whisky. ‘We’d better sit by the fire. This house is cold and damp.’

There was one sofa, facing the fire. The glow of the flames provided a warm light. She did not switch on any more lights, not wanting him to see how bare the cottage really was, beneath the artistic touches she had lavished on it.

They sat facing each other. The rosy light that gave her smooth, pale face an alabaster glow made his look even more rugged and masculine than usual.

Or perhaps he had lost weight; his straight, Norman nose seemed more pronounced than usual, and there were shadows in the cleft of that masterfully erotic mouth.

‘You look tired,’ she commented.

‘I’ve been in meetings in London all day,’ he replied.

‘Not that kind of tired. A deeper tiredness. Too many parties, perhaps?’

‘Parties?’ he repeated. ‘Since you left me, my life has been nothing but work. Work, and hunting for you.’

‘Well,’ she said with a brittle smile, ‘you obviously have plenty on your mind, Ryan. So, now that you’ve caught me at last, why don’t you go ahead and say it?’

CHAPTER THREE

‘WHERE did you go after you ran from me?’ he asked.

‘I went back west, to Exeter. I had some friends there.’

‘And that’s where you got sick?’

‘Yes.’

‘How did you get encephalitis?’

‘They could never tell me how I caught it. It started with a terrible headache, that horrible last weekend in London. Remember how sick I was?’

‘Yes,’ he said grimly. ‘I remember.’

‘At first I thought I had bad flu. Then I started to vomit on the train. I couldn’t stop. The first doctor I saw didn’t recognise the symptoms, so there was a delay. I went into convulsions. By the time they got me to hospital, I was going into a coma.’

‘Penny, I’m so sorry.’ His face was tight. ‘Why didn’t you call me? I know we were fighting like tigers, but in those circumstances nothing else would have mattered. I would have run to you.’

‘If it’s any consolation, I remember telephoning you from the station. I think the voice-mail service picked up. I probably didn’t say anything.’

‘Oh, Penny. If you’d left one word—’

‘I wasn’t in a fit state to say much,’ she shrugged. ‘Don’t worry about it.’

‘And you say you were unconscious when you had the miscarriage?’ he asked, his eyes intent.

Penny took another gulp of her whisky. ‘Yes.’

‘How long were you in the coma?’

‘A few days. The antibiotics worked. I was very lucky. After a couple of weeks, they discharged me.’

‘And then?’

She shrugged again. ‘Then I got on with the rest of my life.’

‘You didn’t even bother to tell me your pregnancy was over.’