ROUGH DIAMOND Kate Walker
"Take me as I am, Kara." At sixteen Kara had felt an explosion of sexual attraction for the...
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ROUGH DIAMOND Kate Walker
"Take me as I am, Kara." At sixteen Kara had felt an explosion of sexual attraction for the first time in her life. But the man who had caused it, Saul Diamond, had been a rebel from the wrong side of the tracks. Now, eight years later, Kara Phillips, the cool businesswoman, once again experienced the volatile fascination for the untamed and forceful man. Well, Kara wondered, was she old enough now to finally make up her own mind about Saul Diamond?
CHAPTER ONE I'VE been here before! The words echoed eerily in Kara's head, drowning the chirrup of dozens of busy sparrows and making the hard stone of the pavement seem strangely insubstantial beneath her feet. She could see the bright splash of a flowering cherry-tree, glorious against a pale blue sky, its branches laden with blossom spreading out across the driveway of the modern detached house and underneath those branches, its bonnet up, the streamlined shape of a sleek, white sports car. But it was the strong, firm figure of the man bending over the engine that had caught her attention, bringing that jolting sense of awareness. Dejavu, that was the term she was looking for. Hattie, with her interest in astrology and the paranormal, believed the feeling came not from having experienced the same events in the past but from a subconscious, intuitive recognition that some small, seemingly unimportant occurrence was in fact much more significant than it appeared and would ultimately prove to mark a change or something equally momentous in one's life. But what possible significance could there be in seeing a man at work on a car? The question made Kara frown thoughtfully, one hand going unconsciously to her hair, twisting a long golden strand of it round and round her finger, a habit left over from childhood that she still resorted to when she felt uncertain or insecure. Her eyes would not look away from the man before her and she was thankful that, absorbed in what he was doing, he remained oblivious of her scrutiny. He could be the owner of the car and the house in whose driveway it stood, but privately she doubted it. Wendover Crescent was referred to locally as 'Accountant Crescent', the elegant detached houses it boasted attracting many of the up-and-coming members
of that profession—Tom Manning among them. A faint smile touched Kara's lips as she wondered once more just how her hopelessly disorganised friend had ever ended up married to the precise and orderly Tom. Scatty Hattie, her husband called her, and with a vision of her friend's untidy bright red hair and imposing height in her head, Kara's smile widened at the thought of just how dramatically Hattie must stand out in the quiet, dignified neighbourhood to which she had just moved. And here was someone else who didn't quite fit in. No, Kara amended swiftly, someone who didn't belong. Hattie had been particularly amusing on the subject of her neighbours, laughter filling her voice as she described the unsuitably smart clothes they wore just to work in the garden. Even to repair the car, the occupants of Wendover Crescent wouldn't appear in jeans quite as disreputably faded and patched as the ones this man wore. His dark grey sweatshirt was equally inelegant, slightly shrunken and smeared with oil and dirt. The clothes suited him, though, the dirty sweatshirt stretched tautly over wide, powerfully muscled shoulders, and the worn denim clung tightly and flatteringly to the strong length of his legs, emphasising his narrow waist and hips. With a jolt Kara dragged herself back to reality. What was she doing, standing here like an idiot staring at some unknown man? The scene reminded her of the times she had been annoyed by some street-corner loiterer blatantly ogling her slim legs and slenderly curved body, and the smile that had faded momentarily came back with a new and mischievous tilt to her lips. There was a reversal of roles for you! Hattie would love the idea of a woman eyeing up an attractive man; it would appeal to her feminist tendencies. Remembering that Hattie would be waiting for her, impatient for news of 'Pages', the bookshop she and Kara ran as partners, and
equally determined to show off her baby son Andrew, born just ten weeks before, Kara shook her head to clear it of the abstracted mood that had held her frozen. It was as she prepared to continue on her way that the van caught her eye. Parked just a few yards down the road, its navy blue paint slightly battered and much in need of cleaning, it was ordinary enough in itself. But what brought Kara up sharp, stilling her movement and bringing memories floating to the top of her mind like bubbles surfacing in a glass, was the white diamond shape emblazoned on its side against which the words Sinclair Garages stood out clearly. Sinclair Garages. Well, so much for dejavu! She had experienced something like this before, eight years ago, when she was sixteen. Bob Sinclair had owned the garage just down the road from her parents' home and her mother and father had always taken their cars to him for any repairs they had needed. Kara herself had often been with them when they had called in for petrol and it was there that... 'Seen enough?' The low-toned, mocking voice broke in on her thoughts with a suddenness that had her taking an involuntary step backwards, blinking slightly in surprise. On a hot wave of embarrassment she realised that the man before her had lifted his head and half turned in her direction. As she hesitated he completed the movement, swivelling round to lounge against the side of the car, sliding his hands into the pockets of his jeans in a way that emphasised the broad, straight line of his shoulders and, more disturbingly because she still hadn't adjusted to the immediate physical impact he had had on her, stretched the battered denim even tighter across his hips and thighs. Eyes of the deepest shade of brown regarded her insolently from under rather heavy lids and thick, straight brows
and the rather wide mouth had a sardonic twist to it as the man spoke again, more impatiently this time. 'Well? Are you dumb or what? I asked if you'd seen enough. After all, you've been ogling me for at least five minutes.' 'I wasn't ogling!' Kara protested vehemently, infuriated by the deliberately provocative note in his voice, her discomposure intensified by the uncanny way he had echoed the words that had been in her mind only moments before. 'No?' The single syllable was drawled out slowly and was accompanied by a lift of one dark eyebrow that implied doubt as to the truth of her statement. 'It seemed that way to me. I've no objection to providing a show for anyone, particularly not a pretty girl like you, but right now it's just a little awkward. You see, I need to get some tools from the van so I'm afraid I have to move— but don't go away. I'll be back in a minute and then you can stare to your heart's content.' Shock, disbelief and sheer, blind fury burned in Kara's mind making any words she might have spoken disintegrate into an incoherent splutter of rage. The arrogance of the man! His insolent tone, his mocking smile, the glint in his eyes all implied an assumption that she, or any woman, would be stunned with admiration by the sight of his manly physique! The physique she wasn't denying; it was the blatantly sexual implications of everything he had said that she refuted angrily. He made her feel like a voyeur, a Peeping Tom, which was a decidedly uncomfortable sensation, and one that was made all the worse by the image that, unbidden and unwanted, suddenly filled her mind and superimposed itself on the insolently smiling face before her.
It had come from nowhere, the image of this selfsame man but much younger, no more than—what? Nineteen? Twenty? A wild, gipsyish-looking youth with a tangled mane of dark curling hair. That was still the same, Kara reflected as a movement of the man's hand drew her eyes upwards as he thrust his fingers impatiently through the unruly and, to her mind, over- long dark hair. Not the respectable, conventional type, either then or now, but no doubt there were those who would find his rough-hewn masculinity attractive if you liked the aggressive, macho man. He had an unusual name, she recalled, one that went with his unconventional looks, but it hovered on the edge of her memory, eluding her, infuriatingly just out of reach. 'Have I your permission to move, Milady?' His derisive voice intruded into her thoughts once more, reminding her unpleasantly that she was still standing silent and awkward, too stunned after that one outburst to say a word. 'Do what you like,' she muttered ungraciously, her mood in no way improved by the mocking little bow he gave in acknowledgement of her words and his cynically murmured, 'So you do have a tongue in your head,' as he strolled across the pavement to open the back door of the navy blue van. If she had any sense at all, she would go now—and quickly— while his back was towards her and she was free of the impact of those satirical brown eyes. She wasn't quite sure how she had got herself into this embarrassing situation, but she didn't have to put up with this objectionable creature's insolence a moment longer. What way his name, anyway? She regretted her hesitation, slight though it had been, as she found that she had lingered a moment too long and, having found what he wanted, the man had turned once more in her direction. With a
nervous clenching bf her stomach, Kara saw that every trace of the glinting humour had vanished from his eyes, leaving them coldly hostile, and there was a hard edge to his voice when he spoke suddenly and sharply. 'After ten minutes I start to charge, lady!' he snapped. 'Look, Blondie, don't you have a home to go to? You might be getting some kinky sort of thrill out of all this, but believe me I'm beginning to get pretty tired of it. I'm sure those big green eyes of yours have seen ail they want by now, so why don't you -' 'Saul!' Kara exclaimed triumphantly, having remembered his name at last. It was the name Blondie that had jolted her memory. He had called her that before, when ... The disproportionate sense of elation that had come with the solving of the problem that had vexed her faded rapidly as she saw the frankly puzzled look that crossed his face at the way she had unthinkingly spoken his name out loud. 'It is Saul, isn't it?' she persisted uncertainly. A slight, unsmiling inclination of the dark head indicated agreement but no hint of encouragement, and the expression on the strong-boned face was watchful, waiting for her to make the first move. No trace of recognition showed in the narrowed brown eyes. Had she really changed that much? That thought was followed swiftly by another, much more disturbing one as, with the recollection of his name, other pieces of the jigsaw of her memories fell into place and the picture they formed wasn't one she liked. 'Do I know you?' Idiot! Kara reproved herself silently, cursing the impulse that had led to that idly drawled question. Having roused his curiosity she
was suddenly very sure she didn't want him to remember their previous meetings. 'My mistake,' she murmured stiffly, adding an absurdly formal, 'Good afternoon,' as, anxious now to end this uncomfortable situation, she made a move to walk past him. But her plan was thwarted as a hand shot out, fastening uncomfortably firmly around her upper arm, crushing the sleeve of her pink quilted jacket and jerking her round to face him. 'Not so fast, lady!' The indolent, drawling tone had gone, replaced by an ominously forceful note of command. 'It was no mistake. You know my name and, flattering though the thought is, I'm not entirely convinced that it was pure admiration that had you standing transfixed a moment ago, so I think it's time we did some straight talking. You can tell me your name, for a start.' Incensed at his tone, Kara drew herself up to her full height and looked him straight in the eye, an easier task than she recalled its having been eight years before, but perhaps her two-inch heels had something to do with that. 'I'll tell you nothing,' she declared tightly, her green eyes sparkling jewel-bright with the irritation she was struggling to keep in check—but an irritation that was mixed with an uneasy nervousness at the realisation that the street was deserted and the grip on her arm was that of a very strong man indeed. How she wished that it hadn't been today that her Fiat had been booked in for a complete service, obliging her to travel across town by bus. She had alighted several stops early simply for the pleasure of walking in the early spring sunshine, a pleasure she got too little of these days. Since Hattie's departure on maternity leave, the bookshop had absorbed more of her time than ever. But now she
was forced to consider those few minutes of pleasure rather too dearly bought. Her eyes dropped to the hand that held her prisoner, fury sweeping away her nervousness as she saw the smudges of oil and grease, the dirt embedded under the nails of the fingers clenched around her arm. Her gaze swung back up to Saul's face again, flashing fire as she glared at him. 'Take your hand off me!' she declared furiously. 'You're ruining my jacket!' The grip on her arm loosened very slightly, not because he had made any move to release her but, disconcertingly, because he was laughing, his eyes lighting with recognition. With a sinking heart Kara realised that neither the laugh nor the realisation of who she was brought any warmth to his face. 'Oh, I remember you now,' Saul said drily, his long mouth curling into a wide but not at all friendly grin. 'I know that lady-of-themanor act of old. Kara Phillips, isn't it—or—correction—Miss Phillips to the likes of me,' he added cynically, with another of those bows that made a travesty of the old-fashioned gesture of courtesy, all the more so because his grimy hand was still firmly clenched around her arm, hard fingers digging into her skin until she felt they must bruise her even through the padded material. Kara knew a strong temptation to struggle, to wrench herself free of that restraining hand and run, but one look at those cold, dark eyes squashed the rebellious thought. Even at nineteen he'd had a reputation as a trouble-maker, had been notorious for his swiftly flaring temper, and she didn't fancy the risks involved if she roused that temper now. Far better to stay quiet, do nothing, say nothing, then perhaps he would tire of his stupid little game and let her
go—and she would just have to pray that the stains would come out of her jacket, she added with a swift pang of regret for the brand-new pink suit that she had taken such pleasure in only that morning. Saul had taken a step away from her now, holding her at arm's length while he subjected her to a coolly deliberate survey, his appraising gaze sweeping from the top of her shining blonde head to the toes of her neatly shod feet. In spite of herself and partly to keep a grip on her own temper which was threatening to break loose and push her into something foolish like aiming a savage kick at those long legs so temptingly close to her own, Kara couldn't help wondering just what he saw and what he thought. She was well aware of the changes in herself. Eight years before, she had been a scrawny, underdeveloped adolescent, an awkward, uncertain creature, neither child nor woman, not at all sure of where she was going. Once she had changed ambitions and interests as swiftly as she changed her clothes, with no real sense of her own identity, but now that uncertainty was a long way behind her. Meeting Saul's scrutiny defiantly, Kara pictured in her mind her own image as she had seen it in the mirror before she left the house that morning—a tall, slim woman, dressed smartly in the neat pink suit with its slightly flaring skirt, a polo-neck sweater in a toning darker pink under the quilted jacket. Long golden blonde hair hung in soft waves over her shoulders. Normally she wore it confined in a thick coil at the nape of her neck, preferring it that way for work so that she could fix it and forget it and liking the controlled, efficient air it gave to her otherwise rather too youthful face. But because today was her day off, the first she had managed to fit in for weeks, she had let it hang free and loose in an untypically youthful style.
Wide green eyes fringed with surprisingly dark lashes for someone with her colouring and a small, full mouth set in an oval, faircomplexioned face completed the picture which, taken all in all, was one of a cool, confident woman at ease with herself and sure of her own position. If there was one thing that marred that impression right now, it was the fact that her cheeks, normally delicately pale, were unnaturally flushed, glowing rosily with annoyance. Kara could feel the heat burning in her face and cursed her transparency that betrayed her unease to Saul's insolent stare. At long last Saul brought his eyes up again, more slowly this time, lingering deliberately on the curves of her breasts and hips. 'You've changed,' he murmured softly, then suddenly lifted his gaze to meet hers, the gleam of challenge unmistakable in the depths of his eyes. 'Filled out a bit too—in all the right places, of course.' Trust him to notice that! Not that he could fail to unless he was completely blind. At sixteen she had hardly had any figure to speak of, but in the intervening years her body had become more rounded, more truly feminine, though with none of the voluptuous curves that covered Hattie's statuesque frame. Personally she was pleased about it,, having suffered for years from the teasing 'Oxfam' that had been her nickname in the past, but now the blatantly sensual appreciation in those appraising eyes made her squirm inside in embarrassment and annoyance. How like a man to see only the obvious! There were other changes too, more subtle perhaps, but in her own mind far more important, the restrained elegance of her clothes, so unlike the slapdash, unco-ordinated outfits she used to wear, the immaculately styled and cared-for hair, and the skilful, flattering use of make-up to enhance her features—but of course she couldn't expect a lout like this man to notice such details!
'Could I have my arm back now, please?' Kara pitched her voice deliberately, making it cold and proud, and was frankly surprised when he released her immediately and without comment, letting his hand drop to his side but not moving away. It took every ounce of self-control she could summon up to suppress the automatic impulse to lift her own hand to her bruised arm and rub it hard in an effort to ease the ache his grip had caused and erase the touch of his fingers, but she could not resist the urge to glance at her sleeve to see just what damage his filthy hands had inflicted on her jacket, and neither could she hold back a cry of distress when she saw the black, oily streaks that marred the soft pink material. 'Look what you've done!' she exclaimed furiously. 'My jacket's ruined!' Saul spared the damaged sleeve the most cursory of glances. 'It'll clean,' he said briefly then, seeing the anger sparking in her eyes, added more conciliatingly, 'look, I'm sorry, I didn't mean that to happen. I'll pay for it to be cleaned. Just give me your address and I'll come round and collect it—say at the weekend if that's okay. Where do you live?' Automatically Kara gave her address and saw the change in his face as he registered what she had said. She should have expected that, she supposed. If Wendover Crescent was 'Accountant Crescent' then the quiet avenue in which she had her home was definitely 'Snob Row'. She had only the smallest house on the street and she'd worked hard to be able to afford that but she didn't suppose Saul would stop to consider that. She almost expected him to withdraw his offer to pay for having her jacket cleaned, knowing full well that she could more than afford to foot the bill
herself but he made no comment and continued with a question instead. 'Do you still live with your parents?' 'Good lord, no.' It came out on a laugh that sounded disturbingly high and brittle in the crisp air. 'I've had my own place for years.' 'You're not married then?' Saul asked, his eyes going to Kara's ringless left hand. 'No.' Not that it's any business of yours, she wanted to add, but she could afford to relax a little now that he'd released her, and it wouldn't hurt to be polite until she had recovered enough composure to leave. She wasn't quite ready to attempt that yet. Saul was still just a little too close for comfort and she wasn't entirely sure he wouldn't try to stop her. if she moved away— and her experience of the way he had restrained her the first time made her think more than twice about risking a repeat performance. 'Not found anyone good enough?' Saul's words stung—and they were meant to, Kara realised, seeing that taunting gleam in his eyes once more. 'Or did Mummy and Daddy not approve of your choice?' 'Nothing like that!' Kara's tone was sharp to cover the unease she felt. He might not have remembered her at first but he certainly had now, and that last barbed remark with its sneer at her parents had left her in no doubt that his recollection, like her own, was becoming clearer with every second that passed. He was deliberately reminding her of events she would prefer to leave buried in the past but she wasn't going to let him discomfit her.
'As a matter of fact I'm not in the least interested in getting married!' she declared forcefully. 'I have a business to run and that takes up all my time.' 'So you're the liberated career-girl type, are you?' The, distasteful way he pronounced the words turned them into an insult. 'It figures: like mother, like daughter.' Kara deemed it wiser to ignore that remark, and to cover the effort it took to do so she assumed her most politely interested voice, the one she adopted for difficult customers or boring business lunches. 'And what about you? You still work for Bob Sinclair, I see.' A firm shake of his head that set the dark curls flying was Saul's only response, but it wasn't the movement that made Kara frown but a flash of something that looked suspiciously like anger mixed strangely with a cynical amusement that gleamed in his eyes for a moment, thoroughly disconcerting her. Just what had she said that might both annoy and amuse him? 'But the van -' she persisted with an awkward gesture in the direction of the vehicle parked beside them. 'Sinclair Garages, yes.' That disturbing gleam had intensified now, filling his eyes with a look of triumph so that they positively glowed in the sunlight. 'But there's no Bob Sinclair any more. He died five years ago.' 'Oh.' Foolish and inane as it sounded, it was all Kara could manage through the fury of emotions that filled her head, irritation at the way he had out-manoeuvred her uppermost among them. He had laid his trap very neatly and she had fallen straight into it. It wasn't surprising that she knew nothing of Bob Sinclair's death, her parents had moved house when she was seventeen, no longer using
Sinclair's garage, and it was only in the last six months that she had returned to Melchett herself, having lived in the flat above the first branch of 'Pages' in one of the smaller surrounding towns before that. 'I didn't know,' she said lamely and it was as she saw his shoulders lift in an off-hand shrug that it suddenly occurred to her to wonder just what she was doing making polite conversation with a man she barely knew and most definitely didn't want to get to know better. In the same moment Saul too obviously tired of the forced situation and his eyes slid away from her, back towards the car as he made no attempt to disguise the fact that, his attention and interest were directed elsewhere. 'I have to be going now, I'm visiting a friend—she'll be expecting me ...' The words died on Kara's lips, drying up in the heat of the anger that swept through her at his curt nod of dismissal. His head was once more firmly under the bonnet of the car before she had finished speaking. How dare he! she fumed as she marched away, the staccato tapping of her heels on the pavement unconsciously revealing the disturbed state of her thoughts. How dare he dismiss her like that, making it obvious that he preferred the insides of an engine to her company! The impetus of her anger took her swiftly round the corner, her lips tightly compressed against the angry words she had been tempted to fling at that insolent, arrogant dark face, but then, gradually, her steps slowed and for a moment she stood completely still, shaking her head in disbelief at her own behaviour.
What did it matter if some loutish motor mechanic had no time for her? Why should she care? It was downright stupid even to feel annoyed at his behaviour. It was less than flattering to find that his attention could be so swiftly turned elsewhere, but she was old enough and worldly enough to know without vanity that many men found her attractive. She had never lacked masculine attention or company so one man's indifference—and particularly this man's—should do nothing to dent her self-esteem. With an exclamation of irritation she moved on again, trying to turn her thoughts to Hattie whose house was just down the road, but finding that the meeting with Saul refused to be driven from her mind. She couldn't believe that she had actually bothered to explain why she had to leave, that she had even considered it necessary. She had been forced into Saul's company by an unfortunate turn of fate; she hadn't wanted to waste almost half an hour of her precious free time with someone who so clearly didn't care for her company either! She owed him nothing, she should have just turned on her heel and gone. Instead she had found herself murmuring embarrassed excuses as if she were reluctant to tear herself away. Really, she had behaved quite ridiculously. She had had plenty of practice in extricating herself from boring or unwanted conversations. It was a skill anyone involved in handling people, whether staff, reps, or members of the public, had to acquire, and she usually managed to accomplish her withdrawal with rather more style and dignity than she had shown this afternoon. Put it out of your mind and forget about it! she told herself firmly as she turned in at Hattie's gate. But at the back of her mind was a sneaking doubt whether she would be able to do that, because
somehow the meeting with Saul had managed to strip away the poise and control she had acquired over the years, reducing her, in her own eyes at least, to the awkward, uncertain sixteen-year-old she had thought she had left behind. It was not a sensation she was used to, nor was it one she enjoyed in any way at all.
CHAPTER TWO 'KARA, I don't believe you've heard a word I've said! What is the matter with you today? You're not with me at all.' 'Oh Hatt, I'm sorry!' Kara flashed an apologetic smile at her friend's indignant face. Haying dutifully admired baby Andrew angelically asleep in his pram, she was now settled in Hattie's chaotically untidy lounge with a welcome cup of coffee, but in spite of the fact that she had been looking forward to this meeting for days she now found that her attention kept wandering. The meeting with Saul and her own uncharacteristic reactions intruded on her thoughts, making her vague and abstracted until Hattie had finally been driven to voice a protest. 'I was thinking of someone I met on the way here.' 'Must be someone pretty interesting to absorb you like this. Anyone I know?' Kara shook her golden head. 'No. Someone from way back. I knew him when I was still at school.' 'Him.' Hattie pounced on the word. 'Now that is interesting—a man from your past.' 'Hardly.' Kara smiled at the other girl's enthusiasm. Idyllically happy in her own marriage, Hattie had determined that what suited her would suit Kara too, and was keen to find Mr Right for her friend. 'In fact I can't really say I knew him. I only met him once or twice and I didn't really like him very much.' Not true! her conscience reproached her. Like didn't come into it. He held a fascination, drew you like a magnet. Hot colour washed her face at the memory of the excuses she had found to accompany her mother to the garage, the times she had hung around the
forecourt hoping Saul would appear. The wave of colour didn't escape Hattie's attentive gaze and she leaned forward, her eyes bright with curiosity. 'Come off it, Kara!' she protested. 'He must have something to make you blush like that and you've been thinking of him non-stop since you got here—so tell!' 'Nothing to tell—no, honest! I was walking up the road and I saw him. I suppose it threw me a bit seeing a face from the past like that.' 'That's all?' A note of disappointment sounded in Hattie's voice. 'Here I was thinking you were going to tell me something romantic and exciting to brighten my dreary, domesticated existence and all I get is that! Didn't you even speak to him? Aha!' she pronounced gleefully at Kara's nod. That's more like it! So what's he like? What number?' Kara's brow creased in thought in the same moment as her full mouth curved into a smile. From the time they had first met, when Kara was nineteen and Hattie just a couple of years older, this had been a private joke between them, the rating of all the men they met on a scale of one to ten, taking in looks, style, and personality. Their personal preferences varied widely but they knew each other so well that Hattie knew exactly what Kara's rating meant and vice versa. Usually a number would spring to mind automatically but this time it was more difficult. 'Five?' she hazarded uncertainly, an image of Saul's face dancing before her eyes. 'No more?'
'W-ell -' Unnervingly her mind focused suddenly on the memory of those long, strong legs, the powerful lines of his back and shoulders. But as she opened her mouth to amend her decision she had a vivid mental picture of a filthy hand with dirt embedded under the fingernails gripping her arm. 'No more,' she stated firmly. 'In fact, more like a four.' And on personality not even that, she added in the privacy of her own thoughts. 'I see.' Hattie reached for her coffee cup. 'No impact?' 'Well, he's got plenty of impact if you go for the barbaric macho type, all brawn and no brain. He's tall. dark and good-looking in a pagan sort of way—he'd go down a bomb in one of those rough, tough detective series.' 'Doesn't sound like a four to me—or even a five,' Hattie put in, a teasing note in her voice. 'No, perhaps he wouldn't to you,' Kara retorted. Hattie had always been drawn to the Clint Eastwood type—which made it all the more surprising that she had ended up marrying Tom, who was the epitome of the elegantly groomed, sophisticated professional man. Disconcertingly, it also crossed her mind that Tom had only been ranked a five when Hattie had first met him. 'So what's this barbarian's name?' 'Saul—Saul Diamond.' She couldn't remember exactly when she had first heard his surname but the moment she had learned he was called Saul was vividly clear in her mind. She had been in the tiny office with her mother when Bob Sinclair had called him in from the forecourt. He had appeared silently in the doorway, a tall, unsmiling, shaggy-
haired youth in filthy overalls who had caught one-handed the car keys Sinclair tossed to him, his attention .not on them but on Kara herself. Those dark eyes had been intent on her face just for a moment before, without saying a word, he had turned on his heel and strode off again. That was the first time he had ever noticed her, but well before that she had been aware of him, fascinated by his gipsyish looks, the aura of untamed wildness that seemed to cling to him. It had been the attraction of the unknown and the alien she now admitted. 'Kara, you're dreaming again! This Saul must have affected you more than you're admitting if he sends you off into trances like this. I'm intrigued, you must tell me more. What does he do?' 'He works in a garage, as a mechanic I think.' Kara frowned sharply at Hattie's gurgle of laughter. 'I'm sorry!' she spluttered. 'Oh, Kara, don't glare at me like that! It's just—I can't imagine it. You of all people—Ms Professional herself—and a mechanic! Your mother would have a fit.' She did Kara thought wryly, remembering, and the memory left her incapable of keeping the sharpness from her voice. 'You're making more of this than it merits, Hatt!' 'No, I'm not,' Hattie countered swiftly. 'You've been in a dream ever since you arrived and the only time you snapped out of it was when we started talking about this—Saul.' Her voice quivered as she choked back another laugh. 'What a turn up for the book! The supercool businesswoman knocked back on her heels by a car mechanic!'
'Hattie!' Kara exclaimed warningly but her friend was not to be turned from her train of thought. 'You can protest all you like but I'll not believe you,' she declared. 'I haven't seen you so shaken in years and quite frankly I'm glad to see it. You might have convinced yourself that your career was everything, but I knew it wouldn't satisfy you forever. You're a woman, love, and women, no matter how intelligent and competent they are, need that extra little something that only a man can give,' Hattie's eyes slid to the photograph of Tom displayed prominently on the sideboard, but as Kara opened her mouth to protest she launched into speech again. 'Oh, I know what you're going to say. Whatever happened to the liberated, independent Harriet? Well, she's still there—I haven't become a housebound cabbage just because I've had a baby. I'm going to keep on working—you just try and keep me away—but love and a career aren't mutually exclusive and, believe me, it's very nice to have both.' 'Who brought love into this?' Kara spluttered indignantly, reviving Hattie's laughter. 'Okay, so I was jumping the gun a bit. Not love then, but something more basic, like excitement—and you have to admit that those animated dummies you've been seeing have been pretty short on that vital spark.' Et tu, Hattie! Kara thought a trifle bitterly, her friend's words echoing uncannily closely a conversation she had overheard between two of the juniors in the bookshop only the day before— except that Helen had been distinctly more emphatic, and, on the whole, decidedly uncomplimentary about Kara herself.
'Take Rod, for example.' Hattie ploughed on, oblivious to her friend's withdrawn silence. 'Very smart, very cultured and all that—but definitely a non-starter in the excitement stakes.' 'I liked Rod!' Kara was beginning to feel as if she were being backed into a corner. Really, Hattie was taking her matchmaking ideas a little too far this time! Which was all the more disturbing when she considered how short a time it was since the two of them had vowed that they would never give up the independence they had earned for any man. But that was before Tom had come along and swept Hattie off her feet. Well, Hattie might have found the man who could make her change her mind about her commitment to her career, but she certainly hadn't! When a sneaking suspicion that that was simply because she had deliberately chosen to date the sort of man who presented no threat to that commitment she so valued crept into her mind she pushed it away firmly and turned her attention back to Hattie. 'Rod and I had a nice, uncomplicated relationship,' she stated firmly. 'Which is just how I like it. I don't have your ability to juggle a husband, a home and a career—and now a baby as well,' she added as a wail from the pram announced that Hattie's son was awake—and hungry. 'What ability?' Hattie asked wryly, scooping the baby up into her arms. She surveyed Kara over his downy, red-faced head, her expression suddenly serious. 'There's more to life than work, Kara. These "uncomplicated" relationships can get a bit sterile after a while. Uncomplicated can soon come to mean boring—and, let's face it, you haven't been exactly enthusiastic about Rod or any of
his predecessors, have you? That's why I was so intrigued to see you all het up over your mechanic.' 'He's not my mechanic!' Kara protested but her voice was drowned by Andrew's angry cries. 'And I'm not het up,' she added to Hattie's retreating back as her friend disappeared into the kitchen in search of the baby's bottle. But even in her own ears the words lacked conviction. She had been affected by the meeting with Saul, unable to dismiss it as simply an unfortunate and embarrassing twist of fate and put it out of her thoughts because, at the back of her mind, there lurked an uneasy suspicion that her reaction to seeing him again had come partly from the present-day Kara and couldn't simply be explained away by the residue of mental discomfort left by her memories of the past.
That past came back to haunt her a couple of nights later when, in the middle of preparations for the party she was giving that evening, it intruded once more on her thoughts, leaving her body standing still in her neat, modern kitchen, oblivious of the gathering dusk, as her mind was drawn unwillingly back to the summer eight years before when she had been sixteen. It had been a long, hot, and, for the main part, a thoroughly boring time. Apart from the usual family holiday which that year they had spent in Greece, she had been on her own a great deal. Both her parents were out at work every day, Kevin, her elder brother who was in his first year at university, was staying with friends in Wales, and one of the disadvantages of not attending the local comprehensive school was that her own friends from the private, all-girls school her parents had chosen were scattered widely over the area, some living a hour or more's drive away which made visiting them impossible on a day-to-day basis. As a result Kara
had found herself very much at a loose end, her time dragged, and she had taken to just wandering about the streets near her home, no particular destination in mind—until the day she had discovered Saul Diamond's existence. He had been working on a car engine the first time she had seen him, on a routine trip to the garage with her father to buy petrol. It was a blazing hot day and he had been wearing washed-out denims, battered training shoes and nothing else. From the privacy of the car she had watched him covertly, her gaze drawn and held by his sure, capable movements, the play of firm muscle under the bronzed skin of his back. She hadn't seen his face that time, the unkempt mane of hair falling forward to hide his features from her, but in those few brief moments she had experienced such an explosion of shock and excitement that she had been trembling from the effect of it, her nerves burning with restlessness, long after they had driven away. After that she had been unable to settle until she had seen the face that belonged to the body that had so disturbed her, and after one glimpse of those strongly carved features, the deep brown eyes, she was lost, drifting on a floodtide of the sort of excitement that had previously been aroused by fantasies about the latest pop superstar or the current sex-symbol on film or television. It wasn't that she was unused to the company of the opposite sex, there had been no shortage of masculine visitors in her parents' home. Kevin's friends or the sons of her parents' social acquaintances often called round and one or two of them had taken her to a disco or a film—but Saul was different. He was a man, powerful, virile, with a streak of wildness in his blood that set him apart from the boys she knew in the way that a lynx was different from a peaceful tabby curled up beside the fire. They were of the same genus but that was all. Saul was a loner and, if only half the
stories she had heard of him were true, something of a rebel who had thrown up a premising academic career to leave school at sixteen, not giving a damn for all the advice he had received to the contrary. His worn leather jacket, shapeless tee-shirts and the inevitable faded and patched denims could not have been in greater contrast to the smartly casual clothes she was accustomed to seeing, and he walked with a particular lithe grace, his dark head held arrogantly high, giving time or attention to no one. Motor-bikes were his one obsession and to them he gave the consideration he afforded to no human being. It was a bike that had absorbed him when, on the day after that moment in Bob Sinclair's office, bored and at a loss for something to do, and driven by a compulsion she only half understood, Kara had wandered down to the garage. She had told herself that she would only walk past, perhaps catching a glimpse of the man whose dark looks had filled her dreams the previous night, but the sight of that lithe, muscular figure crouched beside the gleaming black and silver machine had first transfixed and then drawn her irresistibly. She had been perhaps ten yards away when he had glanced up, alerted by some faint sound or movement. 'Hello, Blondie,' he had said, his casual tone laced with a thread of irony. 'Come to see how the other half lives?' Not quite sure how to take that, Kara had chosen to ignore it and instead she nodded at the powerful motorbike. 'Is that yours?' Saul's nod of agreement had been brief to the point of curtness. He had clearly had no intention of encouraging her and it took some effort on her part to continue. 'It looks very—fast,' she had murmured inanely. 'Is it?'
'Fast enough,' was the laconic response. Very slowly Saul had straightened up, leaning back against the bike. His hands rested lightly on his hips, thumbs hooked into the heavy leather belt at his narrow waist, the slightly shrunken navy tee-shirt clinging to the sleek shape of muscles tempered to the strength of steel by hard, physical work, and for all his relaxed position Kara had felt threatened and overpowered. As she had shifted uncertainly from one foot to another. nervous fingers tugging at her hair, Saul had asked suddenly, 'Was there something you wanted? Something gone wrong with the Mercedes?' 'Oh—no -' For some reason Kara had felt vaguely uncomfortable at his mention of her mother's expensive car. She wished he hadn't stood up. He looked so much bigger, more powerful close to, and when he had moved she could see the sheen of perspiration on his face and shoulders in a way that had made her heart jolt unevenly. 'I—just came -' Her voice had dried abruptly, the echo of his sardonic 'Come to see how the other half live' constricting her throat, leaving her standing foolishly silent. 'You came looking for me.' The arrogance of that remark had literally taken her breath away. For a long, stunned moment she had gaped at him, seeing the faint smile which curled his long mouth at the corners but which, unnervingly, didn't touch those watchful eyes at all, leaving them dark and unfathomable as the shadows cast by the dark shape of the workshop in whose doorway he stood.
'You—you think a lot of yourself, don't you!' she had splattered at last and had seen the smile fade, thinning the wide mouth to a hard line. 'I'm not blind,' he had stated coldly. 'And just what is that supposed to mean?' Kara had wished she had more control over her voice, it came and went in the most unnatural way, sounding breathless and uneven, giving away too much. 'It means exactly what it says,' Saul had drawled with deceptive mildness. He had moved suddenly, coming to her side, disturbingly close, so close that the warmth and scent of his body had reached her, twisting the nerves in her stomach. 'I'm not blind, Blondie,' Saul had repeated. 'And I'm not stupid either. I've seen you watching me when you think I'm not looking and quite frankly I'm tired of it. I'm not some animal in a zoo, some wild creature you've never seen before, and I won't be stared at as if I was. So, either you stop right now or -' his voice had changed subtly, deepening noticeably 'or we do something about it.' Kara's legs had felt like cotton wool and it was as if the same soft padding had filled her head, preventing her from thinking clearly. 'Do something?' she had choked. 'What—what do you mean?' This time the smile that crossed his lips had had a hint of real warmth in it, softening the hard lines of his face and, disconcertingly, lifting her heart as it did so.
'You're not that naive,' he had reproved softly, his voice roughened by a seductively husky note. 'You've made it blatantly obvious that you fancy me and -' Kara had frozen as he lifted one hand, stroking the backs of his fingers down her cheek and under her chin, lifting her face up towards his so that her wide, apprehensive green eyes were forced to meet the dark intensity of his gaze. 'You're a pretty little thing and, if I'm any judge, not. quite the mouse you pretend to be—so why don't you stop dancing round the subject, skip all the preliminaries, and say you'll come out with me. We could go somewhere on the bike, then you'll see just how fast she can go.' The offer had been made casually, the lack of any expression in his face implying complete indifference to whether she accepted or not, but that hadn't stopped her heart launching suddenly into a new and much faster tempo at the thought of being on the powerful machine, her arms around that slim, firm waist, her body pressed up against the muscular length of Saul's. But then she had thought of her parents, imagined their reaction to such an idea. 'I—I couldn't,' she had murmured awkwardly, dropping her eyes from his and fixing them on the point where the darkly tanned skin of his throat met the navy cotton of his tee-shirt. The golden tan didn't stop there, she remembered, and felt a quivering reaction shake her at the recollection as Saul's shoulders lifted in an offhand shrug. 'Well, the offer's there if you want to take it up.' The hint of laughter in his voice had brought a wave of embarrassment that had left her hands damp with sweat, so that
she had had to wipe them carefully on the pale blue cotton of her skirt. 'I don't think so,' she had managed, her voice coming out cold and proud, and immediately the long body at her side stiffened, every muscle booming taut with hostility. 'Suit yourself.' The words had come sharply, bringing her eyes up to his face in a rush to see how that too had hardened, the ebony eyes becoming cold and distant, before he swung away from her, clearly intent on returning to his work. All at once she had felt a powerful surge of regret. Her hand had twisted convulsively in her hair, torturing the shining strands into convoluted knots as she stood frozen with indecision then, taking a deep breath, she had forced the words out in a rush. 'I—I'd have to ask my parents.' At first she had thought he hadn't heard her, but then she ^ saw how his hand had stilled on the motor-bike's handlebars and he half turned back towards her. 'So ask them.' It had taken her two days to get round to it, two days to pluck up the courage and find the right words, because she had known instinctively what the reaction would be. Both well-established professional people, her parents set particularly high standards in their own lives and they expected their children to live up to them. Discipline was strong, friends and social activities carefully scrutinised, so, deep down, she had fully expected the response she got.
'Saul Diamond!' her father had exploded. 'That longhaired layabout who works for Bob Sinclair? Not on your life, young lady.' 'He's not a layabout,' Kara had pointed out, surprising herself with her own audacity. 'He's got a steady job.' 'But only because Sinclair's too soft to know what's good for him. He took Diamond on when no one else would and quite frankly I'm surprised he's lasted as long as he has. His father hasn't worked in years, not since his wife walked out on him—and that was when this Saul was fourteen—and from what I've heard his son's tarred with the same brush.' 'Wasn't he the one who gave Jim Guthrie so much trouble?' Kara's mother had put in and her husband had nodded grimly. 'If you want to know about Saul Diamond you ask Jim,' he had told Kara. 'He put everything he'd got into that lad when he was at school and how was he repaid? Truancy, defiance, and the moment Diamond was sixteen he threw up his education and took a deadend job.' 'He's no good, Kara,' Mrs Phillips had said firmly, knowing from the look on her daughter's face that she was already wavering. 'If he took you out, where do you think you'd go? The only social life boys of his type know revolves around shabby pubs and that dreadful motor-bike. I don't want my daughter mixing with that sort of crowd.' And, now that she'd had time to think, it wasn't what she wanted either, Kara admitted. She hadn't considered the situation properly, but now, remembering the rundown area of town where Saul lived and the gangs of rough youths who hung around street corners there, she had felt all her excitement fade, to be replaced by a rather relieved recognition of the fact that she and Saul Diamond
lived on very different levels with no point of contact at all and if she was honest she had known it from the start. She had resolved to keep away from the garage after that, had even managed it for a week, but inevitably there had come a day when, on their way back from town, her mother had announced her intention of calling in to settle her account with Bob Sinclair, and Kara had had no alternative but to go along with her. Sinclair was alone in his office, the garage forecourt was deserted, and there was no sign of the tall, dark figure she half feared, half longed to see, and so, when her mother had started a conversation about a new project her design agency was currently working on, bored and disconsolate, Kara had wandered out into the sunshine again. Curiosity had drawn her to the workshop at the back of the garage, picking her way past piles of tools and equipment, her attention on the need for care on the treacherously greasy floor, so that she hadn't seen the tall figure standing quietly watching her until his voice had sounded suddenly out of the silence, startling her. 'Looking for me again?' Taken unawares, Kara had spun round swiftly, screwing up her eyes against the gloom in the shed after the sun outside. It had taken a moment or two for her to focus on Saul where he stood in the far corner, several feet away from her, and in that time she had struggled to collect her whirling thoughts and get them in some sort of order. She had tried to forget the dramatic impact of his looks, the intangible aura of excitement that seemed to surround him, but seeing him so unexpectedly she had felt that forceful attraction reach out and surround her once more, sending a frisson of delight
running through her in the same moment that her stomach had twisted into such tight knots that it had been an effort to force herself to speak. 'Of course I wasn't looking for you!' she had declared, using disdain to hide her troubled feelings, and had seen his eyebrows lift at her tone. 'Why should I want to see you?' she had rushed on thoughtlessly, though his frown told her the impetuous words were a mistake. 'Perhaps to tell me you'd decided to take up the offer 1 made,' he had said quietly enough but with a hard undertone to his voice that had sent a shiver of apprehension down her spine, reminding her unpleasantly that she was alone in this dimly lit shed with a man she didn't know or understand. Her parents had been right, she didn't know how to handle a man like Saul—she didn't even know where to begin. 'As a matter of fact, I'd forgotten all about that,' she had lied hastily. 'Then why are you here?' Kara had tried a careless shrug that hadn't quite come off, the movement and her expression implying contempt rather than the insouciance she had aimed for. 'I was curious. I've always wanted to see what this place was like inside.' The gesture she had made to indicate her surroundings had brought her own attention to them as much as Saul's. This was his world, a world of dirt and noise and hard physical work, no room for books or music or any of the things that were so important in her own
life. It was light years away from the civilised existence she knew. Her small nose wrinkled in distaste. 'I don't know how you can work in here. It's filthy!' But Saul had ignored her remark, returning to her earlier comment as he demanded, 'Do you expect me to believe that?' 'Why not?' Kara's head had come up defiantly at the jeering note in his voice and anger at the way he had spoken to her had made her eyes flash a vivid green in the half-light. 'It's the truth!' she had added with more conviction than she actually felt. 'Is it?' 'Of course!' With difficulty Kara had suppressed an impulse to slap him hard to wipe that look of sneering disbelief from his face. In that moment she had wondered what she had ever seen in him. He was an arrogant, overbearing lout—a fiendishly handsome one perhaps, but a lout all the same. She had been deceived by the attractive packaging but the contents of the parcel were not to her taste at all. Getting her temper firmly under control, she had turned a coldly contemptuous look on the man before her. 'What other possible reason could I have for being here?' Saul's wide, mobile mouth had twisted in bitter cynicism. 'You've changed your tune, milady,' he had said, the menacing note in his voice reinforced by the cold fire of anger that burned in his eyes. 'Who's been talking to you?' 'My—I—no one! I just realised that it would never work.'
Kara had flinched mentally as she saw the perceptible tightening of the muscles in his jaw at the sound of her hard, brittle voice. She hadn't meant to sound quite so arrogant but there was no withdrawing her words now. What did it matter if she only told half the truth anyway? All she had wanted was for him to leave her alone, permanently, and if she got him angry enough then surely he would do just that. 'We have nothing in common, you and I,' she had gone on stiltedly, her parents' words springing to mind in a rush of intense relief. 'We live different lives, have different standards. I don't belong in your world and you certainly don't fit in with mine. We're poles apart— opposites—and it's better to keep it that way.' An ominous silence had followed the end of her stiff little speech, a silence which seemed to become almost tangible, reaching out and brushing the ends of her already hypersensitive nerves, setting them jangling painfully. She had had the irrational feeling that, if looks could kill, then surely the icy fury in Saul's eyes would shrivel her into a pile of dust on the workshop floor. That's quite a speech, Blondie,' he had said at last, his irony stinging like the flick of a whip. 'Who wrote your script?' 'No one! I meant it! I talked to my parents and— and—' 'And your father said that a long-haired, leather-jacketed layabout wasn't good enough for the daughter of one of Melchett's leading solicitors,' Saul had finished cynically. 'And of course your mother told you that the only thing I could give you was a reputation,' 'Exactly.' Kara had had no idea whether she was intensely relieved or desperately disappointed to hear her mother's cool, crisp voice
sounding so suddenly from the doorway. She had been aware of nothing beyond a shivering sense of dread as Saul's mouth had snapped shut, his lips tightly compressed, and he had directed a long, searching look at her face before turning very slowly towards her mother. They had looked like duellists sizing each other up before the fight began in earnest, Kara had thought wildly, her eyes going from Saul's stony, set face to her mother's disdainful one and back again—and she had had no idea who would win when the fighting actually started, as it inevitably must. The contrast in their appearances was dramatic, Saul, as always, in the inevitable scruffy denims and tee-shirt, her mother characteristically elegant in her tailored grey suit, her fair hair, several shades lighter than Kara's own, caught up in a French pleat at the back of her head, not a strand out of place. Physically, of course, Saul had to have the advantage, standing some inches taller than Mrs Phillips even though she was above average height for a woman, but this was to be a battle of wills, Kara acknowledged uneasily, a queasy, sick feeling growing in the pit of her stomach at the knowledge that her mother possessed a sharp, incisive intelligence with a tongue to match. Ten years of running her own business had left her more than capable of handling any situation that arose—but Kara had seen the look in Saul's eyes before he turned away from her and the memory had her fingers twisting painfully in her hair as she waited tensely for one of them to speak. 'Your invitation was presumptuous and unwanted.' Kara had winced inside at the sound of her mother's precise, clipped tone. 'Kara won't be going anywhere with you.'
'I think that's for your daughter to decide.' Saul's voice had matched Mrs Phillips' exactly in its icy hardness. 'Surely she has some say in this?' 'On the contrary, Kara is only sixteen, she's not old enough to judge for herself who is suitable company for her and who is not.' Kara's stomach had lurched sickeningly at the sharpness of that 'suitable' which turned the word into a stinging insult which, to judge from the immediate tensing of every muscle in the man at her side, suddenly tight as a coiled spring like a wild animal about to attack, was exactly how Saul interpreted it. But if her mother had touched him on the raw nothing of what he was feeling had shown in his tone when he spoke again. 'Define "suitable",' he had drawled insolently, making Mrs Phillips' brows draw together in a swift frown. Just for a second she had seemed nonplussed but then she had drawn herself up, anger sparking in her eyes. 'I don't have to explain my actions to you,' she had declared, her voice ringing clearly in the silent workshop. 'Suffice it to say that I don't consider you to be the sort of man I want my daughter to go out with.' A sudden, convulsive movement had drawn Kara's attention to Saul's hands. With a shiver of apprehension she had seen how they had clenched into tight fists at his sides. Her heart had jerked painfully at the recollection of his reputedly violent temper, driving her to take a hesitant step forward. 'You -' she had begun nervously but Saul had cut her off sharply.
'In other words I'm fit to touch your car but not your daughter,' he had flung at Mrs Phillips so savagely that she had taken a step backwards as if uncertain what he might do next. What he had done was so unexpected that neither Kara nor her mother, had seen it coming and they had been equally unable to prevent or avoid it. His hand had flashed out and fastened on to Kara's arm, hard fingers digging viciously into the bare skin below the short sleeve of her shirt. With a violent movement he had jerked her round, pulling her hard up against him, and before she could even begin to voice a protest his mouth had come down savagely on hers, crushing it painfully in a kiss that was no caress but an expression of intense anger. He had held her for just as long as it suited him then released her abruptly, flinging her from him so that she staggered backwards, her face white with shock, one hand going up to cover her bruised lips. In the long, shocked silence that had followed his action Kara had heard her mother's sharply indrawn breath, saw her cheeks whiten then colour fiercely in fury. Too numbed to think or even feel, she had watched wide-eyed as Saul turned a face that seemed carved from granite in Mrs Phillips' direction. 'Not so very special!' he had declared scathingly. 'You can't taste the money—and even if you could, I want rather more than that.' And the final memory, the one Kara knew she would never erase completely from her mind, had been the appallingly loud crack of her own hand making violent contact with the bronzed skin of Saul's cheek.
CHAPTER THREE KARA shook herself sharply. She must have been standing here for nearly half an hour, lost in memories she hadn't wanted to recall. If she didn't get a move on everyone would arrive before she, was ready. But even as she relaxed in a warm, perfumed bath, she couldn't quite drive those thoughts from her mind and they clouded her brain like' a dull, nagging headache. Kevin had been furious. Returning home from his trip to Wales, he had got to hear of the confrontation with Saul Diamond and had been shocked and angry with both his mother and Kara, accusing them of total insensitivity and arrant snobbishness. Much to Mrs Phillips' horror, he had even gone down to the garage himself, declaring his intention of apologising to Saul. Kara had never known what happened at that meeting; she had never dared bring up the subject with her brother, and a few days later Kevin had left for a new term at university without the matter ever being discussed. By the time he returned at Christmas the house move her parents had been planning had been effected and they lived well away from Bob Sinclair's garage so, thankfully, she had never had to see Saul again. Abruptly Kara reached for a loofah and began to scrub viciously at her skin, trying to distract her mind from memories that she now had to admit she was thoroughly ashamed of. It was true that if she found herself in the same sort of position again today she would still turn down an invitation from someone like Saul. Like oil and water, her type and his would never mix, but at least she would hope to accomplish the refusal with a great deal more finesse than she had managed the first time. ***
Kara slid the second tray of sausage rolls into the oven to warm through and straightened up with a sigh of satisfaction. The party was going very well, the staff of the three different shops blending together easily, supper was well in hand and she could afford to relax and enjoy herself—so she was caught up sharply by the sudden stab of something close to disappointment as she surveyed the crowded scene in her living-room from the quiet of the kitchen. Everyone she had invited had come with a partner, either male or female. Even Tessa, the newest and youngest junior, was firmly attached to a young man with a strange spiky haircut, and in spite of herself Kara wondered if perhaps she should have waited until after the party before breaking up with Rod. But even as the thought crossed her mind she knew she had rejected it. For one thing, Rod would never have fitted in. At thirty-eight he was almost ten years older than the oldest person here tonight, and in his manner older still. He was far too conscious of his dignity, unwilling to let his hair down, and the conservative, dignified appearance that had appealed to her at first would have made him stand out like a sore thumb. 'Something smells good.' Helen, a dark, vivacious nineteen-yearold, had appeared at her side. 'Not more food! The tables are groaning as it is—and I can't afford to put on any more weight or I'll burst out of my clothes.' With a rueful smile Helen smoothed the scarlet silk of her jumpsuit over her rounded hips, casting an envious glance at Kara's tall, slender frame. 'I don't know how you manage to keep so slim when you're such a good cook.'
Discipline, Kara was tempted to retort, well aware of Helen's addiction to sticky buns at every coffee-break, but, suddenly aware of how bitchy that would sound, she caught herself just in time. 'I'm lucky, I have the sort of metabolism that burns up food quickly.' 'Mine's just the opposite—I've only got to smell food and I put on a couple of pounds.' Kara's commiserating smile flashed on and off automatically. Just why had she been so tempted to come out with something crushing like that? She wasn't usually so sharp-tongued. Another glance at Helen's curvaceous body, blatantly emphasised by the clinging lines of her jumpsuit, gave her her answer and it wasn't one she was happy about. Unwillingly she compared the scarlet suit with her own simple navy and white polka-dot dress. In a soft crepe de Chine, its understated elegance had appealed to her when she had bought it, but now, with that sniggering conversation between Helen and Tessa ringing in her head, she was forced to wonder if it was perhaps a little staid for her twenty- four years. Hearing herself described as old-fashioned and boringly predictable had rankled more than she cared to admit and, still smarting from the memory, she had over-reacted. 'All alone?' Helen had moved the conversation from food to her other main preoccupation—men—and her tone, combined with the fact that Kara was already off balance as a result of her sensitivity to Helen's earlier remarks, destroyed her normally calm frame of mind. For a second she was back in the shop, hearing once more those mocking descriptions, stunned to think that the staid and inhibited woman Helen was talking about was in fact herself.
'Do you think she's frigid?' Tessa had giggled and Helen had snorted contemptuously. 'I doubt if she's had the chance to find out! She, wouldn't know a real man if she saw one. Those Hooray Henries she dates aren't men, they're just stuffed shirts, dead from the neck down, without a drop of red blood in their veins. If our Miss Phillips met a genuine hot- blooded male she'd run a mile.' 'Actually I'm waiting for someone,' Kara snapped thoughtlessly and immediately wished she'd bitten her tongue. She'd scored a point over Helen and blocked that awkward line of questioning for a while, but as the evening wore on and it became obvious that the imaginary man she claimed she was waiting for hadn't turned up, she would pay a high price in embarrassment for her petty triumph. Idiot! she reproved herself furiously. Why on earth had she given in to the standards and expectations Helen and her type had of life? She didn't need a man to bolster her morale or make her feel like a woman, and there was little room for any commitment other than 'Pages' at the moment. The bookshop demanded her total dedication, it wouldn't do for both of them to be torn between home and career as Hattie now was. When she had first started 'Pages' in that one tiny shop Kara had known that, for a time at least, everything else would have to take second place. Her own mother's example had taught her that it would be time enough to think of love and marriage when the business was on a really sound footing, and so far she had never met anyone who could make her change her mind on that topic— so why didn't she just say so straight out as she would have done with Hattie or any of her own friends?
'Who?' Helen asked now. 'Are you still seeing Rod or is this somebody new?' Mercifully, at that uncomfortable point, Kara's attention was distracted by the simultaneous ringing of the doorbell and the timer on the oven indicating that it was time to remove the sausage rolls. As she hesitated, unsure of which to answer first, Helen took matters into her own hands. 'I'll get the door—you see to the food.' Left alone, Kara was grateful for the few moments of peace to recover her composure. She still couldn't believe that she had been so weak-minded as to pretend to a boyfriend she didn't have. She'd left that sort of thing behind in her schooldays and yet she'd invented an imaginary man swiftly and automatically, subscribing to Helen's belief that a woman was no one without a man in attendance, when normally she would have denied the idea hotly. Hattie would have had hysterics if she'd heard her. Not for the first time Kara wished that Andrew's current sleeping problems had not made him impossible to leave with a babysitter. The annual party on the anniversary of the opening of 'Pages' was something of a tradition, but this was the first such party Kara had organised without her friend's cheerful presence to help things along. In their partnership, Kara was the one who handled the business side of things best, coping with orders, accounts and the like, while Hattie contributed the training in children's librarianship that gave her the flair for choosing stock when they had first decided to specialise in children's books, and her ability to handle staff with an easy friendliness that earned their loyalty and hard work. It was a gift that Kara secretly envied, knowing that her own more reticent nature sometimes led to the impression that she was stand-offish, even cold, so that, although she knew everyone
who was here tonight, she was not entirely at ease with them in the way Hattie would have been. Her movements abrupt and jerky, Kara snatched the hot rolls from the baking-tray and dropped them on to the waiting plates. Concentrating on her private thoughts, she didn't hear the front door close or the footsteps that approached the kitchen and started nervously at Helen's voice. 'Your friend's here.' Friend? The emphasis on that word brought Kara's head round swiftly, a puzzled frown creasing her brow. At first she was at a loss to understand the barely concealed curiosity and excitement that made Helen's eyes sparkle. Then, slowly, she became aware of the tall figure that towered over the other girl's small, plump form. She had a confused impression of a heavy white cotton shirt and a sleeveless black leather jerkin fitting snugly around a pair of impressive shoulders that seemed almost to fill the doorway as the man moved forward, tossing back the tangled hair that had strayed over his forehead and almost into his eyes. For a split second, frozen in stunned shock, Kara didn't recognise him; but then she met the sardonic force of those deep brown eyes, several shades darker than Helen's, and as she blinked confusedly the separate parts formed a whole and made up the unwelcome figure of Saul Diamond. 'Good evening, Kara,' he said now, his smooth composure infuriating her. What the hell are you doing here? Kara had opened her mouth to put her thoughts into words when she recalled Helen's undisguisedly curious presence and, determined not to let the younger girl see how Saul's sudden appearance had disconcerted
her, forced herself to flash a small and insincere smile at his darkfeatured face. 'Good evening,' she responded stiffly, forcing a note of politeness into her voice. Luckily Helen seemed unaware of any tension; in fact she scarcely spared Kara a glance, her attention well and truly on the man at her side, the smiling glance she gave him blatantly flirtatious. 'I'll leave you two alone,' she murmured with an implied understanding of their need for privacy that had Kara gritting her teeth against an undignified retort. 'You've been very wicked getting here so late,' she added archly to Saul, 'but I'm sure you'll be forgiven if you're suitable apologetic. Don't be too hard on him, Kara.' And she moved away at last, heading. Kara noticed with a surge of impotent anger, straight for Tessa. The two girls exchanged excited whispers, Tessa's head turning surreptitiously in Kara's direction. With part of her mind Kara noted that the younger girl looked flushed, her eyes wide and overbright in a way that was slightly worrying. She would have to check if she was all right— after she had dealt with Saul. She forced herself to direct her attention back to the man who was lounging indolently against the wall, waiting silently for her to speak. 'What the hell are you doing here?' she hissed at him, her voice shaking with anger but managing, in spite of everything she was feeling, to school her expression into something approaching calm. She was well aware of Helen and Tessa avidly watching every move.
'I thought you were expecting me,' was Saul's even- toned reply. 'Helen told me you'd been waiting impatiently for my arrival all evening.' Helen, Kara registered automatically. Two minutes' conversation at the door and he was on first-name terms! He'd probably noted down her telephone number too. 'I wasn't waiting for you!' she declared vehemently in the same second as a tantalising idea formed in her mind. Unexpected and unwelcome as his arrival had been, it had got her out of a tight spot. Helen would now be satisfied that Saul was the man she had said she was waiting for and, to judge from the other girl's reaction, she clearly didn't classify him as one of those dead-fromthe-neck-down types she had declared were not men at all. With a certain cynical satisfaction Kara took a closer look at her unwelcome visitor. Accustomed to Rod's conservatively smart city suits, she found that Saul's skin-tight black jeans, white shirt and leather jerkin combined with the gipsyish dark curls to give him a decidedly flamboyant, swaggering air. He needed only high boots and perhaps a lace cravat to turn him into a Regency rake or a highwayman, she thought on a smile, and Helen had clearly found his dramatic appearance more than merely attractive. The tantalising thought surfaced again, offering her a way of cashing in on the situation, turning it to her advantage, but one look at Saul's face, his expression shuttered and coldly distant as a result of her tart rejoinder, drove such foolish plans from her mind. She shifted uneasily from one foot to another, unconsciously tugging a tendril of hair loose from its sleek style, feeling irrationally as if the kitchen had suddenly shrunk to half its size, so close and imposingly powerful did Saul seem.
'I thought we arranged that I would come round tonight,' he said now. 'We most certainly did not!' 'Oh, but we did,' Saul countered drily. 'What's more, from young Helen's reaction I was very much expected—and if the looks your friends are giving us are anything to go by, we're considered to be a couple too.' So Saul had noticed the sly glances Helen, Tessa, and now one or two others were turning in their direction! Did everyone think her inhibited where men were concerned? Did they all share Helen's opinion of Rod and the other men she had dated and so find Saul, in his apparent role as current boyfriend, fascinating because he was so very different? 'From the look of things, they all think you're giving me a hard time—and quite unfairly,' Saul drawled, mockery in his voice and a glint in his eyes. 'Perhaps we'd better kiss and make up so they can all relax and go back to enjoying themselves.' 'We'll do no such -' Kara spluttered, but never managed to finish the sentence as she was taken firmly into a pair of steel-hard arms and a warm mouth covered hers in a long, determined kiss that seemed to shock all the breath out of her body. Knocked completely off balance, she couldn't resist, couldn't summon enough rational thought even to begin to struggle in Saul's grasp. But the most disturbing element of the whole situation, outweighing by far the knowledge that perhaps a dozen pairs of eyes were riveted on her back, was the realisation that, despite her shock and anger, she was actually enjoying this!
Saul's lips were warm and firm, his kiss so controlled and so very different from that savage assault on her mouth in the garage workshop all those years before that it was almost impersonal. It roused a strange, fluttering sensation deep inside Kara, as if something that had been asleep for years had suddenly woken and was stretching slowly and sensually like a cat. It was a totally new and slightly frightening feeling, leaving her wanting to experience it again and yet fearful of what might result if she did. She didn't know whether to feel relief or regret as Saul finally lifted his head and shot her a wicked, teasing grin. 'Now we've given them what they want, perhaps they'll stop watching us,' he murmured satirically, still keeping one strong hand on Kara's arm to support her. And she needed that support, Kara realised, unnerved by the way her legs didn't seem to belong to her and by the hazy mist that clouded her mind. It had to be the wine she'd drunk, she decided. She'd had very little to eat that evening and the alcohol had affected her more than she had realised. But her mind cleared swiftly, brought suddenly into sharp focus by a wave of anger as Saul glanced over her shoulder, clearly meeting someone's eyes. Helen's probably, Kara thought. It had to be. Her fury threatened to swamp her as she saw Saul's grin widen and, slowly and quite deliberately, he winked one eye in a gesture of complicity and triumph. Hearing her sharply indrawn breath he looked down at her face again, meeting her burning green gaze with eyes that gleamed with unconcealed amusement. 'I was warned I'd have to grovel a bit to get you to forgive me for my late arrival. Helen informed me that you're a real stickler for punctuality. But be fair, Kara—we didn't actually arrange a time on Thursday.'
'We didn't arrange anything on Thursday!' Kara flashed, infuriated even further by the teasing reproach in Saul's voice. 'Oh, but we did—pink jacket,' Saul prompted. 'I believe I said I'd pay to have it cleaned.' 'Oh.' Realisation dawned belatedly on Kara. She had forgotten the damage to her jacket, foolishly jumping to the conclusion that Saul was no more than a gatecrasher. Now the recollection of the events of Thursday afternoon made her glance automatically towards Saul's hands, noting how every trace of dirt had been removed from them. The strong, square-tipped fingers were immaculately clean, the nails trimmed neatly. They weren't elegant hands; the palms bore the marks of hard work, old calluses that would probably never vanish, and along the back of the left hand was a long, thin scar where perhaps some tool had slipped, slicing through the skin. They were capable, practical-looking hands, dependable somehow, their lean, brown firmness in strong contrast to Rod's white, rather fleshy fingers. She hadn't liked the feel of Rod's soft, damp touch on her skin, but the sensations these hands would arouse would be very different. Shocked by the direction her thoughts had taken, Kara pulled herself together sharply. 'The jacket's in my room,' she muttered stiffly. 'I'll go and get it—I won't be a minute.' And when she'd brought the jacket down and handed it over then he would go, she thought as she mounted the stairs. So how would she feel about that? Surprisingly, the answer didn't come easily. There was relief at the thought that she could soon shut the door on his disturbing presence that revived those disconcerting, formerly well-buried
memories of the sixteen-year-old Kara. Once Saul had gone, she could push those memories back into the past where they belonged and return to being the Kara of the present day, calm, collected, and independent—but what would Helen and Tessa and all the others think? What explanation could she give for the sudden departure of the man they believed she had been waiting for all evening? Once more Kara cursed her foolish tongue that had rushed so thoughtlessly into that stupid declaration so that she couldn't deal as quietly with this awkward situation as she would have liked—and Saul himself had compounded the complications with that kiss! Her hand on the wardrobe door, Kara paused, remembering the moment that Saul's mouth had come down on hers, unable to resist the consideration of what it would be like to have him kiss her under different circumstances. After all, now that he was clean and rather more respectably dressed, those darkly dramatic looks certainly had what Hattie termed 'impact'. Recalling Helen's undisguised interest, seeing Saul through the other girl's eyes, Kara felt that perhaps she had been wrong to rank him as low as four. On looks at least he surely rated higher—though on looks alone. His personality dragged him down the scale again. 'Kara!' The deep-toned, masculine voice sounded surprisingly near and Kara was stunned by the speed with which she recognised it. She had heard so few words in those low, faintly husky tones but already they were fixed firmly in her mind as belonging to one man only. But what right had Saul to follow her upstairs? With an exclamation of impatient annoyance she pulled open the bedroom door and immediately came face to face with Saul as he mounted the last of the stairs on to the landing.
'Bathroom?' he demanded tersely and as Kara pointed automatically to the door opposite she became aware that he was not alone. One arm was supporting the limp form of young Tessa, a heavy-eyed, white- faced doll who swayed in his grasp, one hand clamped over her mouth, her red-painted nails standing out garishly against her pallid skin. Wasting no time on explanations, Saul yanked open the bathroom door and bundled Tessa unceremoniously but not ungently inside, positioned her carefully over the sink then backed out, tactfully shutting the door on her miserable retching. 'Something she ate?' Kara questioned. 'Something she drank,' Saul corrected grimly. 'That young idiot she's with thought it a clever idea to spike her Coke with a double rum. I caught him at it just now but unfortunately I was a little too late—he'd pulled the same trick twice already.' 'But she's only sixteen!' 'Sixteen's old enough for what that little louse had in mind once he'd got her too drunk to know what she was doing,' was the sardonic retort. Kara was listening in horror to the sounds from the bathroom. She should have seen this coming! She had noticed Tessa's unnatural appearance but, caught up in her own irritations, hadn't recognised the signs correctly. Saul had, and had acted at once—but then he was probably more experienced in such things—she wasn't used to people getting smashed out of their minds at her parties. Now, poor Tessa was clearly very unwell indeed. The appalling noises increased in volume and Kara's face paled in sympathy.
'Can you cope here if I go and see what's happening downstairs? I take it you'd like that creep off the premises as soon as possible?' Saul shot an appraising glance at Kara's colourless cheeks. 'Or are you one of those stupid women who faint away at the sight of the harsher facts of life?' The mockery in his tone brought Kara up sharp. 'Certainly not!' she snapped. 'I can handle Tessa— Neil too if it comes to that. There's really no need for you to do anything. I'm quite capable of getting rid of him myself.' 'I'm sure you are,' was the satirically murmured reply. 'If you're anything like your mother, you're a match for anyone—but right now Tessa needs you. I'll see to Neil if that's his name. It's probably kinder that way, and we won't have to pick up the pieces when you're done with him.' 'Well, of course you'd understand him better than I would!' Kara flashed, provoked into uncharacteristic bitchiness by an inexplicable stab of distress at his comparison of her with her mother. She'd changed a lot in eight years, come to see her parents' prejudices for what they were—but he wasn't giving her any chance to prove it. 'Two of a kind, is that what you mean?' Saul shot back harshly, his face darkening ominously. 'Well, just for the record, milady, I have never had to resort to getting a woman drunk in order to get her into my bed.' He had turned on his heel and was gone before Kara could think of a suitably crushing retort. Slowly Kara opened the bathroom door and moved across to Tessa, her mouth forming soothing, compassionate words
automatically while her mind was miles away, with the Kara who had been no older than the miserable girl before her. Wasn't this very scene exactly what her parents had declared might happen to her if she went out with Saul? Hadn't they warned her that boys of his type were only after one thing and that they were prepared to try all kinds of underhand tricks to get it? But the anger she had seen simmering under the surface of Saul's capable handling of the practicalities of the situation had been directed at Neil; his sympathy solely reserved for Tessa. It could just be that he had changed, that the Saul of today was a very different person from the youth he had been—but that explanation didn't really satisfy Kara. Deep down she acknowledged that she and her parents hadn't truly known Saul's 'type' at all. Saul was back much sooner than she had expected, taking the stairs two at a time to join Kara in the bathroom where she was wringing out a flannel in warm water to wipe Tessa's unhappy face. 'How's she doing?' 'Well, I think she's finished being sick,' Kara ventured, but as she spoke Tessa lurched towards the basin once more and proceeded to prove that this was not in fact the case. Instinctively Kara moved swiftly to hold the thin shoulders, smoothing the lank hair from the younger girl's face. 'Poor kid.' It was just a murmur but Kara caught it and the sympathy in Saul's voice made her glance swiftly at his face. As green eyes met brown over Tessa's dishevelled blonde head she saw such a mixture of compassion, understanding and anger at the abuse of the sixteen-year-old's naivete that, with the image of herself at that age still sharp in her mind, she smiled straight at
him, their eyes locking together in a second of empathy out of all proportion to the situation. Kara's breath caught in her throat and she scarcely heard Saul's words as he went on in a quiet, firm voice. 'Helen's making coffee downstairs. We'll get what we can into her but she'd be better off in bed. If you tell me where she lives, I'll take her home.' 'On your motor-bike?' It was an automatic response that had slipped out before she could catch it and she knew as soon as she heard her own words just what the result would be. The open expression faded from his face, the moment of sharing evaporating like mist before the sun, and the scathing look Saul gave her made her feel about three inches tall. 'I have a car these days,' he told her and his black cynicism twisted something inside Kara at the loss of the unity there had been between them. 'I didn't know,' she murmured awkwardly and saw the long mouth twitch into a flicker of a smile that shocked her with its total lack of humour. 'Things change a lot in eight years,' he said mildly enough, but the sudden cold light in his eyes left Kara in no doubt at all that, if he hadn't remembered her fully on the afternoon they had met, in the intervening time he had, like her, recalled every last detail of their previous meetings, and bitter resentment burned in his mind as savagely as ever. It took some time to get Tessa into any fit state to travel but at last, white, subdued, and tearfully apologetic, she was installed in the passenger seat of Saul's car—an MGB Roadster, Kara noted with
some surprise, elderly, as its 'J' registration showed, but lovingly restored and in immaculate condition. Kevin had always longed to possess just such a car and had always cursed the fact that they had gone out of production in 1980 and he didn't possess the skill or the know-how to restore the older models that came on to the market. It was as Saul was about to slide into the driving-seat that, acting on an impulse she didn't quite understand, Kara suddenly laid a hand on his arm to stop him. 'Why don't you come back afterwards—when you've taken Tessa home? Come back to the party and have a drink -' It was the least she could do, she rationalised. He had been so helpful, making an awkward situation so much easier. He had spent the last half-hour gently persuading Tessa to drink the black coffee Helen had prepared, showing infinite patience and leaving Kara free to circulate among her guests so that very few of them had even been aware of any interruption in the evening's enjoyment. She owed him a drink at least to say thank you. For long, silent seconds Saul hesitated,, studying her face with thoughtfully narrowed eyes. Then abruptly his gaze dropped to her hand where it still rested on the soft cotton of his shirt sleeve. Kara followed the direction of his glance and immediately a vivid mental picture of Saul's own hand, black with dirt, gripping her own arm, creasing and staining the pink jacket filled her mind. The memory made her suddenly aware of the intimacy of the gesture she had just made and the contrast between it and the force with which he had held her only days before. As she snatched her hand away in an awkward, embarrassed movement she saw Saul's mouth tighten perceptibly.
'I think not,' he said at last, his tone expressionless. 'It's late and I've been at work all day.' A moment later he had started the car and swung it away from the kerb. It was as she watched the MG's rear lights disappear down the road that it occurred to Kara to wonder just what had prompted her to make that impulsive offer in the first place. If it was the simple courtesy she had told herself was all that motivated her, then she had no reason at all to feel so excessively disappointed when he turned it down.
CHAPTER FOUR IF there was such a thing as spring fever, then this unsettled feeling, this restlessness had to be it, Kara decided as she gave up any attempt to concentrate on the stock records she had been compiling and sat back to survey her surroundings. Usually she derived a great deal of pleasure from simply being in the shop but today that satisfaction eluded her. It would have helped if there had been one or two customers to distract her. She rarely got a chance to sit behind the counter these days, her working-hours were usually spent in the small office at the back of the shop. But today two of the girls were off sick and she had taken over the till in order to let the other two members of staff take their lunch-break together. On the previous occasions when she had filled in like this she had found the experience a useful lesson. The Melchett Centre branch of 'Pages' was the first shop in which she and Hattie had branched out into adult books as well as children's literature and by meeting the customers Kara could learn what they actually bought and, perhaps more important, what they wanted the shop to stock if it didn't already. But today the call of the sunshine that was pouring in through the large plate-glass windows had drawn everyone out of doors, leaving her free to let her thoughts wander—but the trouble was that those thoughts were not such as she particularly wanted to be alone with. Kara frowned as she reflected on the days since her party. From the moment that Helen had bounced into the shop on Monday morning she had known that the subject of Saul's appearance at her party was not going to be easily forgotten.
'Your Saul is definitely one hunk and a half,' Helen had declared, rolling her eyes dramatically. ' Where did you meet such a gorgeous creature?' 'I didn't -' Kara began but Helen rushed on heedlessly, not giving her a chance to explain. 'I'm not surprised you didn't let on about him before now. If he were mine I'd want to keep him to myself too. You should have seen the way he dealt with Neil! The poor slob was out in the cold before he knew what'd hit him. But it was done with style—no scene, no fuss.' Helen's smile was appreciative and she gave a small, sensual shiver of delight. 'He's very forceful, isn't he?' A murmur of agreement was ail Kara could manage. 'Is he like that in bed? Oops, sorry, none of my business.' Helen's giggle was only an affectation of embarrassment. 'But you can't blame me for imagining. Really, I'm madly jealous—I only wish I'd seen him first. He's not your usual type, is he?' 'I don't have a type!' Kara snapped, the note of incredulity in Helen's voice reviving memories of the other girl's derogatory comments. 'Life would be very boring if I only went out with one sort of man.' Too late she realised how her words implied a relationship that didn't exist. 'Well, your Saul's certainly different.' Helen turned to the staffroom mirror to check on her make-up. 'If you ever get tired of him I'd be only too glad to take him off your hands.' Which was just the sort of comment guaranteed to dry the words of explanation on Kara's lips and send her hurrying to her office,
cursing the way she had found herself caught in a cleft stick, unable to declare the truth unless she admitted she had lied on the night of the party, fantasising like some silly adolescent who couldn't bear her friends to think she was the only one without a boyfriend. To complicate matters even more, she soon discovered it wasn't just Helen who took such an interest in her supposed relationship with Saul. Almost every member of her staff made some comment, usually accompanied by a knowing and slightly incredulous smile, and there was something else, something she had never experienced with her employees before. In some strange way, simply by appearing at the party and kissing her there, in front of everyone, something Rod would never have done, Saul had broken down the barriers of constraint between Kara and her staff. She no longer felt on the outside of the coffeebreak conversations but was drawn into them, gently teased about her 'secret man', and it was a change she appreciated, though it was a source of intense embarrassment that it had been brought about as the result of a mistaken belief in a relationship with a man she was unlikely ever to see again. That one change had made her look afresh at her life as a whole, ruefully admitting that, deep down, she was bored. Even 'Pages' didn't offer the satisfaction it once had. Kara sighed, stretching slowly. There was no excitement in her life; she was ready for something new. Only that morning Rod had rung up with an invitation to dinner but she hadn't even thought twice about turning him down. Hattie was right, uncomplicated relationships like the one she had had with Rod did become sterile after a while. She wanted something more than that and, disturbingly, she now saw that the seeds of the restlessness she
was feeling had been planted in her mind on the day she had met Saul Diamond and since then they had been growing steadily stronger with each day that passed. 'Is this a private daydream or can anyone join in?' Jolted back to the present, Kara had barely time to register the familiarity of that deep voice and see the amusement lurking the dark eyes that met her own startled green ones before her mind was winging off to another and thoroughly disconcerting train of thought. When had Saul come in? How long had he stood there unobserved, watching her? She felt unreasonably shaken by the thought, threatened, as if her privacy had been invaded, as if Saul might actually possess the ability to read her mind and know that she had been thinking of him. To cover her discomposure she assumed her 'public' smile, the politely helpful one she showed to all her customers. 'I'm sorry, I was miles away. What was it you wanted?' The glint of amusement brightened and the wide, mobile mouth curled slightly at the corners. 'Perhaps I came to buy a book,' Saul suggested blandly. Was she being unnaturally suspicious or was he mocking her? Not being sure, Kara decided her best policy was to treat this as a straightforward business transaction and Saul as just any customer, though she found it peculiarly difficult to concentrate because her heart was thumping unevenly—probably as a result of being startled out of her trance so abruptly. 'Was there a particular title you were looking for?'
Saul shook his head. 'I thought I'd just browse around. How's Tessa by the way?' 'Oh, she's fine but she's been avoiding Neil like the plague since Saturday night.' Kara wished her pulse-rate would settle down. She had been startled, it was true, but there was more to it than that. Such a rush of adrenalin usually came with fear, the 'fight or flight' reaction, but there was nothing aggressive or hostile in the stance of the man before her. On the contrary, he was totally at his ease, his long body relaxed against the side of the counter, hands pushed deep into the pockets of his jeans, his face still with that faint smile lingering at the corners of his mouth. He looked just what he was, a casual customer who had called in to browse and maybe to buy. Curiosity lit up in Kara's mind as she studied Saul surreptitiously through her eyelashes. She prided herself on her ability to assess customers, to judge from their appearance what type of book they might be interested in, and most of the time her judgement was pretty accurate—but it piqued her to find that, with Saul, she hadn't the tiniest spark of an idea. The contrast between his dark, gipsyish looks and the neat order of his surroundings enhanced the alien, untamed quality about him. He didn't seem to belong in a bookshop and the effect was that of putting a rakish pirate in the middle of a Victorian ladies' tea party. Saul moved slightly, adjusting his position against the counter and as it brought, him nearer the movement also brought a waft of some scent to her nostrils. It was the tang of the sun and air he had brought in with him from outside but it was mixed with a deeper, more subtle essence that, accustomed to Rod's overpowering and rather sickly aftershave, she found strangely intoxicating, the sudden quivering sensation of awareness that brushed across her
nerve ends launching her into impulsive and unprepared speech to fill a silence that seemed to have become oppressive. 'You made quite a hit with Tessa, you know. She's done nothing but sing your praises since you took her home—and Helen's nearly as bad.' 'Helen? The dark, pretty one who let me in?' Was that sudden spark in his eyes one of interest? Perhaps that was really why he'd come—to see Helen. It seemed more in character than his claim he was here to buy a book. With her vivacious personality and voluptuous figure, Helen had men buzzing round her like bees around a honeypot and clearly Saul was no exception. The other girls will love this! an unwelcome little voice whispered inside Kara's head. For just under a week they had seen her as something other than their staid, inhibited and very predictable boss, revising their opinion of her as someone who attracted only the 'Hooray Henries' Helen had so scathingly described, and she was painfully aware of the fact that the change in attitude was based solely on the belief that this man was interested in her. If Saul were to turn his attention to Helen they would revert to their original opinion of her, believing her not woman enough to hold him, or, worse, would discover, through Helen, that the relationship she had let them believe in had never existed at all. 'I'm afraid it's Helen's day off today,' she said stiffly and saw Saul's shrug of—acceptance?—disappointment?—or just plain indifference? She couldn't judge, and his expression was giving nothing away either. 'I'm sure you'll be able to serve me just as capably as Helen would,' Saul murmured as he straightened up and half turned towards the shelves.
'You really came in to buy a book?' Was she really as surprised as she sounded or, more confusingly, was it relief that he didn't seem to care if Helen were there or not that had made her over-react? Either way, her voice had rung with incredulity and she saw him take a step away from her, mentally and physically, his face suddenly closing against her, making his eyes cold and remote. 'I'm not totally illiterate,' he drawled sardonically. 'I didn't mean -' Kara began, then stopped, admitting the truth to herself. She had misjudged him, making assumptions that he quite rightly resented. 'You narrow-minded little snob!' Kevin's angry voice sounded in her head, echoing over the years from the time when she was sixteen and threatening her conviction that she had changed so much in the intervening years. 'Look around all you like,' she went on awkwardly, pulling a pile of receipts towards her with a jerky movement. But if concentrating had been hard before it was impossible now. Her eyes would keep sliding to Saul as he stood in the far corner of the shop—in the History section of all places. She would have sworn he would head straight for the few car-maintenance guides they stocked. It must be his day off too, she reflected, he certainly didn't look as if he was on his lunch-break from the garage. Casual though his jeans and navy sweater were, they were a far cry from the shabby work-clothes she associated with him. Abandoning all attempt at any further work on the stock records, Kara succumbed to the fascination of the scene before her, mesmerised by the quick, sure movements of Saul's hands as he selected volumes from the shelves, his air of self- contained absorption, and the way his dark curls fell forward over his face as he studied a page more closely.
It was an intriguing mixture of contrasts, the piratical effect of the unruly hair and dark eyes and the potent virility of that lean powerful body combined with that most civilised of occupations, reading a book, giving an effect that was almost physical. Kara smiled wryly at her own thoughts. Civilised was not a word she associated with Saul Diamond. He was dynamite—light the blue touch-paper and stand well back!—and she had come perilously close to an explosion only minutes before. He was no animated dummy; any relationship with him would not be lacking in excitement. I was wrong, Hatt, she told her friend mentally. He's not a four at all. She didn't know what score she would give Saul, but, remembering the swift racing of her heart when he had stood so close to her, she had to acknowledge that he would be well up on the scale. The pen she had forced herself to pick up again froze inches above the paper as the germ of an idea that had been in her mind on the night of the party suddenly flowered into a fully formed scheme that was so preposterous she almost laughed out loud. Or was it so ridiculous? Such a short time before she had been feeling restless, in need of something very different from the way her life had gone up to now. It had been distinctly unpleasant to discover that, at twenty-four, she was considered so predictable, possibly even frigid. A wash of colour darkened Kara's cheeks at the thought of how, only that morning, Helen had made several waspish comments which, when taken with the uncomfortably probing questions she had asked, led to the disturbing conclusion that the younger girl was already becoming suspicious about the truth of her supposed relationship with Saul. At the party, Saul had arrived out of the blue, providing a solution to her dilemma, and now here he was again, almost as if summoned up by her thoughts. Just one date
would be all it needed—one real event to turn the half-truths into whole ones... No, it was crazy! It would never work. Tempting as the idea was, she could never put it into action. Besides, she had little hope that Saul would agree. Saul had turned, he was coming towards her, several paperbacks in his hand. If she was going to do anything she had to do it now— but could she? Mentally Kara shrugged. That was the old, unadventurous Kara talking. She only had to ask, after that it would be in the hands of fate—and Saul. If he agreed she'd go along with it and see what happened but if he showed any reluctance at all she would abandon the .whole crazy scheme. She had nothing to lose—but that didn't stop her stomach clenching nervously as Saul put the books down on the counter beside her. Immediately she wished she hadn't been sitting down. Being, like her mother and Hattie, above average height for a woman, she was used to being able to look most men straight in the eye but now, with Saul towering over her and making her feel strangely fragile and vulnerable, not at all a situation she was used to, her nerve deserted her completely. She couldn't just come out with it cold like that. For all Hattie's declarations that a woman had just as much right as a man to make the first move in asking for a date, she rather doubted that Saul was the kind of man who would take too kindly to a woman asking him out. Working-class women were far less liberated than her own friends. Even Helen believed it was the woman's role to wait until asked and no doubt Saul felt the same. If he gave her an opening she might take it, she decided, mentally backing down a step or two as she reached for Saul's selection of
books, admitting to an overwhelming curiosity to see what he had chosen as she did so. His expression should have warned her. Already she was coming to recognise that flicker of a smile, a light in his eyes that spoke of a secret amusement. 'It's my stepmother's birthday next week.' Laughter warmed Saul's voice as Kara stared in undisguised consternation at the three glossy 'blockbuster' romantic novels that lay before her. 'She loves a good romance and she always complains that the local library never has any of the new ones in.' 'These are—very popular.' It was all Kara could manage through a haze of embarrassment at the way he had known just what she was thinking and had turned the tables on her. Stepmother, he had said, and that was a surprise too. There had been no stepmother eight years ago, so when had Saul's father remarried? Some time ago probably, long enough for Saul to have grown close to his stepmother evidently. Not many men would like to be seen buying such books even for their wives and Rod would have considered such an act as beneath his masculine dignity, but Saul had known what his stepmother would like and had chosen the books without hesitation or embarrassment, which spoke of a warm affection between the two of them. There was a fourth book underneath the romances, one that Kara found much more intriguing. 'Why Charles the First?' she asked, keeping her tone as neutral as possible and her eyes fixed on the receipt she was writing out. She wasn't sure if he would answer her and after her faux pas earlier she wouldn't have blamed him if he'd snubbed her completely.
'To get a balanced picture. I've just finished a biography of Cromwell.' There was no hint of triumph, no intonation that spoke of having scored a point against her in his voice, but all the same something told Kara that he had known his answer would surprise her, which of course it had, but she knew better than to let him see that. Thankfully, she had now got herself well enough in hand not to let slip any more of the sort of comments that might spark off the volcano she suspected was still only slumbering just below Saul's surface calm. She would have to tread very carefully if she was going to involve him in a scheme that seemed more and more impossible with every second that passed. Which brought her back to her quandary. Was she going to involve him or not? She had even less idea now what his response would be, because the last few minutes had taught her that the only thing she could expect from Saul Diamond was the unexpected which was not exactly helpful to her wavering state of mind. All the same, she'd better hurry up and make a decision, the books had been wrapped, the money was in the till, and any moment now Saul would be leaving. In the end it was Saul himself who gave her the opening, saying, as he pocketed his change, Tell Tessa I'm glad she's recovered— which reminds me, in all the fuss I didn't pick up that jacket of yours.' 'Oh, forget that, please!' Kara cried hastily. 'I took it to the cleaner's myself on Monday—and I couldn't ask you to pay for it, not after the way you helped with everything. I never did get a chance to thank you for that.' Taking a deep breath because it was now or never she rushed on blindly, anxious to get the words out
before her nerve failed her completely. 'Perhaps I could offer you dinner or something to say thank you properly.' ! That brought those brown, eyes round to her face in a look so intent and searching that it seemed to reach into the secret recesses of her mind, probing deep into her thoughts until she felt he must surely discover the hidden motive behind the invitation. Nervously she smoothed the green and white striped material of her dress over her knees with palms that were suddenly damp with sweat. 'Isn't that rather excessive?' Saul asked slowly.' I didn't do so very much, after all.' What was she doing? Kara thought on a wave of something very close to panic, the idea that had seemed so tempting now appearing in a new light as a foolhardy impulse so uncharacteristic of her that she hardly recognised herself in the woman who sat there. Suddenly aware that she had pulled a strand of golden hair from the coil at the nape of her neck and was twisting it around her index finger in a movement that betrayed her nervousness, she snatched her hand away again and turned cool green eyes on Saul. She had committed herself now, she wasn't going to back down. 'Tessa's little fiasco could have ruined the party.' Kara injected every ounce of control she possessed into her voice and it worked, she sounded completely calm if a little stiff and proud. 'If you hadn't offered, I would probably have had to take her home myself and that would have meant breaking things up—I really am very grateful.' Perhaps her voice had been tighter than she had planned; perhaps the determined lifting of her chin had made her look haughty rather than decisive. Whatever the reason, Saul's reaction was
immediate. His whole body stiffened, his eyes narrowing swiftly, but not before Kara had caught the flash of some fierce emotion deep in their ebony darkness. 'What is this, Blondie?' he demanded. 'Charity handouts to the peasants from the lady of the manor? I don't need your gratitude. Anything I did was to help Tessa, nothing more.' Ouch! She'd put a light to the fuse all right and if she wasn't very careful the whole barrel of gunpowder was going to explode right in her face. Really, she didn't know what had possessed her to start this crazy idea in the first place. Saul's reaction had brought home to her just how far apart they were—not that she needed any reminding of that. 'It's not like that at all! I asked you to come back to the party on Saturday and I meant it. I thought that a drink and some food was the least I could offer to show how much I appreciated your help. I always like to say thank you properly when someone's helped me.' 'So say it and be done with it!' Saul shot back. 'There's no need for all this Lady Bountiful act! I'm sure your mother would have hysterics at the thought of you slumming with the plebs like this.' 'My mother has nothing to do with this!' Kara declared, incensed by his jeering tone. She didn't have to take his taunts—and she had thought this man exciting! He wasn't exciting, he was just a foulmouthed yob! The petty triumph of seeing Helen's face when she said she was going out with Saul again was in no way adequate to compensate for having to put up with this. 'I'm twenty-four. I run my own business and my own life and I'll thank you to remember that!' 'Yes, ma'am!' The cynical flippancy with which Saul imitated the old-fashioned gesture of touching his forelock did not disguise the
yellow fires of anger that burned in his eyes, sending a shudder of dread through Kara. So that was that. There was no way he was going to accept her invitation now. Strangely, she couldn't judge if her reaction was one of relief or regret at the thought. 'My invitation was made in good faith, Mr Diamond,' she told Saul coldly. 'If you can't take it that way then that's your problem. I take it you won't be accepting my offer of dinner?' Saul's reply was a long time coming. He seemed to be considering exactly what to say and all the time his eyes never left her face but were fixed on her in a scrutiny so cool and insolent that her skin felt raw where his gaze had rested on it. 'No,' he said at last, the single syllable as hard and inflexible as his expression. 'I won't accept.' 'Then there's nothing more to say, is there?' Kara's voice was distinctly unsteady on the last few words. She wished he would look away. That cold, appraising stare was tying her stomach in knots. She had left things up to fate and fate had decided against her—and, really, if this was being adventurous, it was distinctly overrated. If she could just get rid of Saul quickly, without any further unpleasantness, then she would be more than happy to revert to being boring and predictable in future and let Helen and the rest of them go hang. 'There's just one thing,' Saul said and after the harshness of his voice earlier the sudden switch to a soft silkiness was a shock that made Kara catch her breath. 'And what's that?' she asked and caught once more that suggestion of a smile that crossed his face, one that had little humour in it, and
what there was, was of a grim, cruel kind. It was the sort of smile that might cross the face of a cat just before it impaled a mouse on its claws. 'There's no way you'll get me to accept your invitation, milady.' The smooth voice was almost a purr, a tiger's purr, rich with a savage contentment. 'But if you're sincere about wanting to thank me then you can show your gratitude by accepting my invitation and agreeing to come out to dinner with me.' It was impossible not to admit to a sense of admiration for the skill with which he had outmanoeuvred her, turning her own argument back on her neatly and leaving her totally at a loss. He had her cornered, Kara conceded. Unless she revoked everything she had said, making herself out to be a liar and a complete fool, there was only one answer she could give. Whether she wanted to or not— and by now she was past knowing what she did want—she had no alternative but to say yes.
CHAPTER FIVE THE sound of the doorbell pealed through the house, coinciding exactly with the sound of the clock striking the hour, and Saul's unexpectedly precise timing combined with Kara's own ambiguous feeling about the evening ahead set her nerves jangling as she hurried to answer its summons. 'You're early!' she protested untruthfully in an effort to explain away her flushed cheeks and strangely quickened breathing. 'I said eight,' Saul pointed out reasonably. 'But there's no rush, I can wait if you want.' 'Oh no.' With an effort Kara collected her disordered thoughts. 'I'm quite ready.' One dark eyebrow lifted slightly in ironic disbelief. 'You surprise me. In my experience a woman who is ready at exactly the time arranged is a pretty rare phenomenon.' 'Punctuality is the politeness of kings,' Kara quoted snappishly. ; 'True. But royalty don't have the monopoly on that particular virtue,' Saul retorted dryly. 'Shall we go?' 'I'll just get my jacket.' With an effort Kara ignored the twitch of the wide, mobile mouth that mocked her earlier declaration that she was quite ready. Was he always so precise in his timing or had he taken to heart Helen's comments on her own insistence on punctuality? Kara wondered edgily, confused and disturbed by the sudden lack of coordination that made her hands fumble awkwardly with the clasp
of her handbag. The effects of suppressed irritation were intensified by the knowledge that, under normal circumstances, she would definitely have approved of Saul's punctuality. The necessity of being on time, from the point of view of both politeness and efficiency, had been drummed into her from childhood, and, personally, she was far more likely to err on the side of being too early rather than too late. Matters weren't helped by the way Saul was standing in the livingroom doorway watching her, his features carefully schooled into an expression of resigned patience. As she reached for her jacket he moved forward to take it from her and hold it out. 'Ready now?' he murmured as he adjusted it over her shoulders, his movements, like his eyes, distant and impersonal. The faint mocking inflexion in his voice and a hint of emphasis on the last word lit a spark of perversity in Kara's mind and without acknowledging his question she turned deliberately to the mirror. There was no need to check her appearance. She knew already what she would see. She had taken time and trouble with her make-up, brushing on a subtle haze of shimmering grey-green eyeshadow and blending it until it was merely a suggestion of colour, coating her lashes with mascara to emphasise their length and thickness and using a peach-coloured lipstick to enhance the soft fullness of her mouth. Deciding that she wanted something different tonight, she had avoided her usual hair-style and instead had plaited her hair into two thick, gleaming ropes that she had pinned across the top of her head in a regal coronet, pulling just a few delicate tendrils loose to soften the effect. Overall, the impression was one of restrained elegance, exactly what she had aimed for.
Unnecessarily Kara smoothed her hair, her attention not on her own appearance but on that of the man behind her, his dark face reflected clearly in the mirror. Having anticipated an evening spent in the company of the rakish highwayman who had appeared at her party, she found that Saul's leather bomber jacket and matching cord trousers in a shade as dark as his eyes appeared almost conservative in contrast. Underneath the jacket was an oatmealcoloured shirt in a soft brushed cotton that clung disturbingly to the sleek shape of the muscles beneath it. No tie though, Kara noted automatically. Clearly wherever they were going there were no house rules that enforced the wearing of one so his shirt was left casually open at the neck. He was not dressed to impress, but then Kara rather suspected that he never set out to impress anyone anyway. He dressed, as he did everything else, to please himself—or perhaps she was judging him too much by her own standard?. Unlike Rod, Saul Diamond probably didn't possess a wardrobe full of expensive three-piece suits. It was quite probable he didn't even own one. A slight movement of Saul's head that might just have been a glance at his watch brought her thoughts back to the fact that she had kept him waiting quite long enough and she turned with a cool smile. 'We can go now. I'm sorry to have kept you.' Saul's smile and shrug were irritatingly indifferent. 'Like I said, there's no rush. The table's booked for nine so we've plenty of time.' Rod's reaction would have been quite different, Kara reflected as she followed Saul out to the car. Skilled in social small-talk, he would have used that moment to compliment her on her
appearance, making some comment on the lines of the wait having been well worthwhile. Not Saul, he seemed to consider such politeness unnecessary—which was all the more annoying when she recalled the difficulty she had had in deciding what to wear this evening. Never having had to worry about money where clothes were concerned, Kara had built up an extensive and stylish wardrobe that was usually more than adequate to meet any social occasion that arose but tonight nothing had seemed quite right. Part of the problem was that she had no idea where Saul was taking her. With Rod or any of the other men she had dated before him there would have been no such uncertainty. Then the choice of restaurant or nightclub would have been quite automatic—it would be simply the best and most expensive available, and she had dressed accordingly. But on a mechanic's wage Saul was unlikely to be taking her to the Grange or Peppino's so her selection of elegant dinner-dresses had had to be rejected for a start. In the end she had settled on a jade-green tunic and skirt suit that did wonders for her eyes, picking up their colour and making them glow a vivid emerald green. It was not too dressy but was still smart enough not to give the impression that she didn't consider this date worth dressing up for. She had no desire to risk sparking off that volatile temper she had seen in flashes already. She rather suspected that what she had seen was only the tip of the iceberg— or, rather, volcano, she amended wryly—and a full-scale explosion was not something she wanted to experience if she could avoid it. But for all the notice Saul had taken of her appearance she might have been wearing an old sack, Kara thought, irritation sparking again as the car swung away from the kerb and drove away at a speed that jolted her back in her seat.
'Do you have to drive quite so fast?' she demanded tartly, shaken as much by the complete lack of the small-talk she was used to on such occasions as by the speed at which they were travelling. 'Scared?' Saul enquired satirically but nevertheless he slowed the car to a more reasonable speed, much to Kara's relief. 'Not at all! It's just that I'm not used to being a passenger and— well, I don't normally go much above forty myself.' 'Cautious in everything,' was the dry rejoinder. 'So tell me, how come you're out with me?' Which was a question she'd been asking herself all day, that adamant 'No, I won't accept,' and, only seconds later, the shock of his own invitation fretting at her mind. It had seemed such an excessive length to go to simply to score over her—so had she in fact been doubly checkmated and had he really intended to ask her out all the time? Saul changed gear smoothly, the movement bringing his scarred left hand unnervingly close to Kara's silk- clad leg so that she tensed instinctively in anticipation of his touch, the sudden fluttering sensation in the pit of her stomach depriving her of speech so that she was unable to frame an answer to his question— or at least one that was ladylike enough to speak aloud. 'If you thought that was fast you should try the bike some time. It's quite an experience, believe me.' 'You still have a motor-bike?' 'Mmm—a Kawasaki 1000 cc—rather more powerful than the old one.'
'A car and a motor-bike—that must come pretty expensive.' How did he manage both on a mechanic's wage? 'The cars are business and a hobby. I take an old banger, do it up, and sell it. The bike's purely for fun.' Some fun! Kara was tempted to retort, remembering the stories of the dangerous speeds at which Saul and his friends had been reputed to drive their powerful machines. At the same time she had to admit that she had always secretly regretted never having taken up Saul's offer of a chance to experience the thrill of being on a motor-bike| at speed. No one she knew had ever ridden on, let alone owned a bike like his. Motor-bikes were a strangely uncivilised form of transport, bringing an illicit excitement with their suggestion of Hell's Angels, wild gangs in tight-fitting black leather. The association of that thought with the hard body of the man sitting next to her made her heart lurch suddenly. 'Do you get a thrill out of speeding?' It was impossible to disguise the disapproval of her voice. A careful driver herself, she had little patience with irresponsible idiots who risked their own lives and those of others simply for the hell of it. 'Only when it's safe. I'm a good driver, Blondie,' Saul stated firmly but without arrogance. 'I take no unnecessary risks—but it's a waste of a superb piece of machinery if you never let it achieve the speed it's capable of reaching. Besides, I wanted to test the engine. It's taken me all afternoon to get it ticking over properly.' 'You've been working on the car this afternoon?' A curt nod was Saul's response, then, his mouth twisting slightly, he shot her a taunting sidelong glance.
'But don't worry, I scrubbed the dirt out from under my nails,' he murmured cynically, his tone bringing a wash of colour to Kara's cheeks. Involuntarily her eyes went to Saul's hands on the wheel, noting once more their hard strength, the confident sureness of every movement. It was true there was no sign of the ingrained dirt that had marred their appearance at that first meeting, but it was unsettling to realise that he had noticed her distaste on that occasion. Deciding that her best policy was to ignore his taunt, she returned to his earlier comment instead. 'I envy you your skill with engines. I have to get someone to do every last little thing on my car, anything mechanical is beyond me.' Saul shrugged off-handedly. 'There's no magic to it. An engine's just like a jigsaw really. When you've done it a couple of times you know where all the pieces go, how they fit together. You could learn—you're bright enough. Or do you prefer to play the helpless female?' 'Of course not!' Irritation stiffened Kara in her seat. 'Do you intend to insult me all evening, Mr Diamond? Because if you do I suggest you turn the car round and take me home right now!' The look Saul turned on her was guileless, all wide- eyed innocence. 'Was I insulting you?' he enquired mildly. 'I thought I was offering you a compliment, believing you were quite capable of learning basic car maintenance. As a liberated lady I would have thought you'd appreciate that.'
Then, before Kara had even begun to recover from the way he had pulled the ground from under her feet, he went on, 'And my name is Saul. If we're going to spend the evening together it's a little foolish to stick to strict formality, don't you think?' He was right, of course, but the really annoying thing was the way he had stolen the moment from her. There was a subtle advantage in being the first to cross the barrier of formality, a trick Kara had often used with great success at business meetings and the like, waiting a nicely calculated time before doing so. Now Saul had taken that advantage, moved the relationship a stage further before she was quite ready, and irrationally she resented the fact deeply. 'Then you'd better call me Kara,' she muttered ungraciously, not needing the faint twitch of his lips in amusement to tell her that he would have done anyway. But then she had already realised that this man didn't waste time on the social niceties. Probably the other women he had dated liked it that way. Certainly, Helen and Tessa seemed to accept and even enjoy being treated as almost one of the boys. She sighed faintly. If Saul kept up this verbal sparring, the evening would be an unmitigated disaster. Well acquainted with most of the restaurants in Melchett, Kara had privately laid a bet with herself which one Saul might choose to take her to, finally narrowing the field down to just two, so it came as a surprise when, contrary to her expectation, he took the road out of town, driving several miles out into the country before finally drawing up outside a long, low building that formed one side of a tiny, old-fashioned square in a village she had never visited before. 'Like it?' he asked smilingly when they were seated at their table, his observant brown eyes having caught the genuine pleasure on
Kara's face as she took in the low-ceilinged room with its many small, leaded windows and heavy oak beams. 'It's like taking a step back into the past!' Kara exclaimed enthusiastically. 'This was originally the village school—they knocked six classrooms into one to make the dining-room.' There was something different about Saul's voice, something that made the deep tones suddenly unfamiliar. Kara was at a loss to explain what it was until it dawned on her that for once he had sounded relaxed, his words completely without that hard, mocking undertone that had always coloured them before. Without it, his voice sounded warm and friendly, the sort of voice she felt she could listen to all night. 'I didn't know this place existed,' she said brightly, taking a sip from the Campari and soda she had ordered as an aperitif and feeling herself start to relax as she did so. The change in Saul's mood was promising. Perhaps the evening wasn't going to be such a disaster after all. 'If the food's as good as the decor, they can't go wrong.' 'The food's excellent,' Saul assured her. 'All the best English dishes, beautifully cooked—though if you're looking for French haute cuisine you'll be disappointed.' The gleam of the dark eyes in the lamplight was challenging. Did he expect her to say she preferred something more sophisticated? He couldn't be more wrong. Rich foods and fancy cooking weren't to her taste at all and they probably weren't Saul's sort of thing either, though she wondered if he had enough experience of the haute cuisine he had mentioned to be any real judge. She wasn't
aware of how clearly her thoughts were written on her face until she saw Saul's twisted smile. 'Your prejudices are showing, Miss Phillips. I've been to one or two good restaurants in my time—I even know the right knife and fork to use too.' The reproof was mild but it was a reproof all the same—and, really, Kara admitted, she had deserved it, judging him without sufficient evidence. Expect the unexpected, she reminded herself. 'I thought we agreed it would be Kara,' she said to cover her embarrassment, then, recovering some composure, added more sharply, 'but if we're talking of prejudice, you're not exactly innocent on that score either. You were the one who assumed I would prefer haute cuisine!' Saul's dark head inclined slightly in acknowledgement of her sally.' Point taken, 'he murmured drily. 'Why don't we call a truce for this evening? I won't rake up your background if you leave mine alone and we'll take it from there. You never know, we might even enjoy ourselves.' And because it was what she wanted; because the verbal sniping was becoming distinctly wearing, preventing her from probing any deeper into the complex personality of a man whom she now realised she had badly underestimated, Kara nodded smilingly. 'I think we'd better start again.' Saul had lifted his glass as she spoke and his eyes met hers over the top of it, so deep and dark she felt she was drowning in them. She had always had a thing about blue-eyed men before, had once declared t© Hattie that her perfect ten would be a smooth-haired blond with eyes the colour of a clear summer sky. But now she
found that deep brown eyes and ebony curls had a startlingly sensual beauty all of their own, one that made her heartbeat accelerate wildly as, on an impulse, she leaned forward and touched her glass against Saul's in a toast. 'To a new beginning,' she declared. She was unprepared for the devastating power of his smile. Seen for the first time totally without that touch of mockery it Had always held before, it swept aside her defences aiming straight at her heart. Suddenly it was as if the room were spinning, whirling crazily round her and taking her thoughts with it until they became one mad, unfocused blur. Forget the five, Hattie! she sent a telepathic message winging towards her friend. Forget nine, or even ten! She had no way of measuring the effect this man had on her—his potent sexual impact went way off the top of any scale! The arrival of a waiter with their first course and another with the wine provided a welcome diversion at that point and it was when they were alone again that Saul brought up the subject of the bookshop. 'Tell me,' he said, 'what made you decided to call the shop "Pages"?' It was a question guaranteed to start Kara talking. She explained that Hattie's maiden name had been Paige and that when they had opened their first shop, specialising solely in children's books, it was her name, with the spelling slightly altered, that they had chosen. That led to an account of the progress of the business from the first small premises in one of the nearby towns to the recent opening of the Melchett Centre branch. Saul's questions and comments stimulated and encouraged her, he revealed an incisive
understanding of the problems of establishing and running a business that might have surprised her earlier but which she had now come to realise was very much in character, bringing her hard up against the fact that, in seeing him as an uncivilised, uncultured lout, she had not been seeing him clearly at all. Her mind had been clouded by the things her parents had told her all those years before. Perhaps then Saul had been, like Byron, 'mad, bad, and dangerous to know', but that assessment didn't hold true of the man she was with tonight. Saul might be just a mechanic in a small, provincial garage, but he was nobody's fool. His conversation was intelligent, reasoned, and spiced with a dry wit that had Kara laughing out loud in a way that made her do a mental double-take. Humour was something that had been sadly lacking in her talks with Rod, and she hadn't realised how much she had missed the joy of laughter until she rediscovered it so unexpectedly with this man whom she knew so little about. 'When I was younger, my parents used to take Kevin and me to restaurants,' she told Saul when the roast beef they had both chosen as their main course had been set in front of them. 'I used to play a guessing game with all the other diners—trying to imagine who they were and what they did. Take that woman over there for example.' Discreetly she indicated a large, elaborately coiffured lady in an over-tight tweed suit that was straining at the seams with every movement. 'She must be a stalwart member of the Townswomen's Guild! I can just imagine her organising a jumble sale or a Bring-and-Buy or running a committee. She'd rule it with a rod of iron too.'
Saul's glance slid to the woman just as she paused in her meal to slip a surreptitious hand down to ease the waistband of her skirt. 'Not iron—more like whalebone from her corsets,' he murmured wickedly, causing Kara to choke on her wine. 'And what about her husband? What does he do?' Kara considered the thin, balding man with interest. He looked mild and perhaps a little brow-beaten, a perfect foil for his imposing wife. 'A shopkeeper?' she hazarded. 'He looked as if he'd be perfectly at home behind a grocery counter.' The widening of Saul's grin told her she was way off the mark. 'Which just goes to prove how deceptive appearances can be. As a matter of fact he's a policeman—a sergeant in the CID.' That stopped her dead in her tracks. A faint frown creased her forehead as her eyes went to the man at the other table and then back to Saul's smiling face. How did he know that? Had he had some clash with the law, with this particular policeman? Saul showed no sign of noticing her perturbed expression but continued blithely, 'It's strange how some people look exactly what they are but others don't. You, for example, have professional businesswoman written all over you.' 'Do I?' Kara's response was abstracted, a vague comment made simply to fill the silence, her mind busy on other matters. What about Saul? Did he have mechanic written all over him? Her fingers tugged at a wispy strand of hair as she studied him covertly.
No, she decided. Saul was one of those people whose appearance would deceive—tonight at least—though the smarter clothes didn't smooth out the wildness in him; in an odd way they actually enhanced it. The contrast between the soft material of the closefitting shirt and trousers and the taut strength beneath them had an effect that was heart-stopping in its intensity, reminding her of how she had felt about this man when she was sixteen, when, naive and inexperienced, she had felt the explosive force of sexual attraction for the very first time. 'What's bothering you?' Kara turned startled green eyes on Saul's face. She hadn't been aware that her thoughts had kept her silent for some minutes. 'It was just you saying I look like a professional businesswoman,' she bluffed awkwardly. 'I'm not too sure how to take it. From some men that would definitely not be a compliment.' 'Why not?' 'Well, it implies a lack of femininity—a hardness.' And it was only as she said the words that she realised how much she meant them. She had always prided herself on her independence, on being a fully liberated woman who met men as equals, with no feminine tricks or wiles to blur the issue, but suddenly the thought of being considered as no more than that left an ache of emptiness at the core of her being. Her mother was a professional businesswoman too, and, remembering Saul's comments on that subject earlier, Kara felt the ache grow into a hard pain. 'Don't get me wrong,' Saul said quietly. 'I admire you for what you've done. With your background—I'm sorry -' His smile acknowledged and apologised for his breaking of the terms of their truce. 'But it would have been easy for you to sit back and enjoy
the lifestyle your parents had earned, instead you've used the talents you have and made a success of your own career and that's something to be proud of.' The glow that lit up inside at his words soothed the knot of pain, bringing a new note of confidence to her voice as she asked impulsively, 'And what about you? Didn't you ever want to be anything more than a mechanic?' There was a fractional hesitation before he answered. 'It's a steady job and I'm good at it. There's always plenty of work, plenty of professional people who can't repair their cars themselves.' Kara winced at the barbed remark, feeling the sting of his mockery surface once more. 'But -' she began then hesitated. She had touched on something there, stung his pride, she could hear the cold anger in his voice. Saul wasn't ashamed of his job, he didn't need to be if he was as good at it as he said, and certainly Bob Sinclair had had nothing but praise for the young mechanic he employed. She remembered him telling her father that Saul had an instinct where cars were concerned, an intuitive touch that no amount of training could ever produce. But she found it hard to believe that the razor-sharp mind she had seen in action earlier could be satisfied with nothing more. 'It would be a pretty dull world if we were all the same,' Saul said evenly as he lifted the bottle that stood by his right hand and gestured with it towards her glass. 'More wine?' Diversionary tactics, Kara thought, watching the rich red liquid flow into her glass. Private—Keep out— Trespassers will be prosecuted! The subject of his job was clearly not one he wanted to discuss. But why? Did he, after all, feel that it was inferior to the professional status he had been so swift to emphasise she
possessed? Personally, she doubted it. It was much more likely that he believed she thought it so. Saul had replaced the bottle on the table without adding any wine to his own half-empty glass. He'd done that before, Kara realised, topping up her glass but leaving his own untouched. An uncomfortable suspicion crossed her mind. Did he have some underhand plan of getting her tipsy? Immediately she dismissed the idea as unworthy. If nothing else, his angry words on the night of the party should have told her she was on the wrong track. But all the same she was curious. Had his action been deliberate or had he simply not noticed that his own glass wasn't full? It was easy enough to reach across and pick up the bottle herself. It was something she'd done often enough at business lunches when she was acting as hostess and would pour the wine for her guests. But before she had even tilted it over Saul's glass his left hand had moved to cover the rim, the long, thin scar showing very white in the lamplight. 'No more for me, thanks,' he murmured, his words reinforced by the quiet but insistent determination with which he took the bottle from her and replaced it on the table. 'Why not?' Even as she spoke, a thought struck her and surprisingly she found she felt enough at ease with him to ask the question that rose in her mind. 'Don't you like wine? I wouldn't have minded if you hadn't ordered any—if you'd preferred -' She broke off in consternation as Saul's body shook in silent laughter. 'Blondie, you really are a bundle of crazy misconceptions! What sort of image do you have of me? Would I have lived up to your expectations better if I'd been sitting here in a cloth cap and hobnailed boots with a pint of beer in my hand?'
Saul's voice was totally without the cynical mockery she had come to dread but his words had come too close to the truth for comfort and Kara found his warm humour infinitely more disturbing than his cold anger had ever been. 'I just thought -' 'I know what you thought. But even in Coronation Street they've been known to enjoy a glass of wine.' Kara didn't know where to look. Appalled at her thoughtlessness, she lowered her eyes to the white damask tablecloth, nervously tracing the pattern on it with one delicate pink-varnished nail. 'Shall I tell you why I refused, Kara?' the disturbingly attractive voice continued softly above her bent head. 'Do you want to know the real reason why I don't want anything to drink?' The husky, sensual note in his voice froze her thoughts. It told her more clearly than words ever could just what was in his mind and she wasn't prepared for the tremor of reaction that shook her in response. 'Kara?' Hazily Kara thought that she had never heard her name pronounced so seductively, the slightly flattened vowels so unlike Rod's crisp enunciation, turning the word into a soft caress so that she could only nod a silent response. Long fingers curled under her chin lifting her face to his so that their eyes met, Saul's as deep and dark as water at night as they locked hypnotically with hers.
'I told you earlier I don't take risks when I'm driving, and I never ever drive when I'm drunk. I've seen enough mangled wrecks to convince me that's the action of a complete fool.' Yes, Kara thought, remembering the pride and affection with which he had spoken of his car, she could well imagine that it would offend him deeply to see those sleek lines twisted and mutilated. She tried to concentrate on that idea, struggling to distract her mind from the unnerving effect the touch of his hand was having on her whole body, setting it quiveringly alive with the sort of shivering hypersensitivity that was usually the result of a raging fever. But her efforts were in vain as Saul's thumb slowly traced the outline of her lips, brushing their full softness with a tantalising caress, light as' the brush of butterfly's wings. The palm of his hand was hard, slightly roughened with manual work, and the abrasive harshness of his skin was in stark contrast to the gentleness with which he held her. It was an intoxicating combination, the rough and the smooth, and his voice held the same contrast, its husky, roughened note giving , the softly spoken words an enticingly seductive quality. 'But surely -' she began tremulously then stopped as a finger was laid over her mouth to silence her. For a split second she felt the urge to press her lips against it but a new and burning intensity in the dark pools of Saul's eyes froze the movement and held her transfixed. 'If you were going to say that a glass or two of wine wouldn't get me drunk, then you're right. I've a pretty good idea of what I can take and still be in control— but not tonight.' The wide mouth curved into a smile that set Kara's heart beating high up in her throat. 'You see, tonight I was drunk before I even touched a drop of alcohol. From the moment I called at your house I was intoxicated by the sight of you, the scent of you, your smile, the
sound of your voice, so that now I can't think straight and if I have anything more to drink I'll be completely out of my head and incapable of getting you home safely.' The hand that held Kara's chin slid upwards slowly to cup her cheek, the callused palm rasping slightly on the delicate skin. 'And that would be a crime because it would be a tragedy if anything happened to harm such a beautiful face.' Saul's voice, the look in his eyes, the touch of his hand on her cheek, all combined like the effect of a powerful drug to send Kara's senses reeling. He might not bother with the polite compliments Rod had been so good at but he was certainly making up for it now! And beside the soft intensity of his words all other compliments she had ever received paled into meaningless, conventional courtesies. What would it be like, she wondered dreamily, to feel those roughened hands on other, more intimate parts of her body? Heat flared in her blood at the thought, drying her throat so that no words would form but they burned in her mind so fiercely that she felt sure he must be able to read what she was thinking in her eyes. Take me home! The words pounded in her head, echoing the thundering beat of her heart. Take me home so that we can be alone, so that I can touch you, feel you, kiss you! I want you, Saul. Dear God, I want you!
CHAPTER SIX THE journey home seemed much shorter than the outward trip; too short—and yet in some ways far, far too long. Kara felt as if she had suddenly emerged from a long, dark tunnel into the sharp brightness of the sun, the need she had seen in herself so intense, so incandescent that it hurt her mind to think of it. She couldn't let the evening end without knowing if Saul had felt it too but she didn't have the words to express how she felt, didn't know where to begin to communicate something so vital, so essential that she felt she would die if it was denied her. So in the silence that followed the shutting off of the engine, with Saul sitting strangely remote and withdrawn in the shadows at her side, she snatched at the first opening she could think of, blurting out her words in an incoherent rush. 'The dinner was lovely—thank you so much, I really enjoyed myself. Perhaps we could do it again some time—my treat, of course.' In the light of a street lamp she saw Saul's face darken and her heart plunged downwards in despair. She'd said the wrong thing, stung that hard pride of his again, and of course she should have known better than to expect a man like Saul to take kindly to her offer to pay for an evening out even if she was more than able to do so. 'I'm sorry -' she began but Saul never heard the words. With a violent movement he thrust the car door open and got out, striding round the car to yank open the door on Kara's side. Without a word he held out his hand and, apprehension gnawing at her painfully, Kara took it hesitantly. His grip was hard and painful, the bruising power of it speaking of the ruthlessly
suppressed anger he was feeling, and his face was shuttered and unreadable in the darkness. The strength with which he pulled her to her feet jolted her close against him, swaying unsteadily so that she put a hand on his shoulder to balance herself, feeling the tension in the taut muscles beneath the supple leather. In the silent street she caught the soft hiss of his breath as it was drawn in sharply and had the weirdest feeling of not being in the world at ail as he regarded her intently for a long, wordless moment. 'Kara,' he said huskily. 'Invite me in.' Kara ran her tongue across suddenly dry lips, saw his eyes follow the slight, unconsciously provocative movement. 'D-do you want to come in?' she managed tremulously. 'Try me.' It was the softest of murmurs but the dark intensity of his eyes was echoed in the undertone that gave it the force of a command. She swallowed hard then brought the words out on a breathless laugh. 'Well, we didn't have coffee ...' 'So we didn't.' The slam of the car door was a sound of decision, a full stop, marking the end of one phase and the beginning of another, one from which it was now too late to turn back even if she had wanted to—though, Kara admitted to herself as Saul's arm came round her waist, almost carrying her the few steps up the path to her door, turning back was the last thing on her mind.
And coffee was the last thing on Saul's, she discovered, for they were scarcely in the hall, with the door kicked to behind them, before she was twisted violently into his arms and his lips came down on hers, hard and demanding, frighteningly so. No, not frightening, her bemused mind amended only seconds later. This sudden weakness, the frantic racing of her heart, wasn't panic. She was trembling uncontrollably, her mind whirling and spinning in a fury of feeling that had nothing to do with fear but was a white-hot, searing crescendo of need and excitement such as she had never experienced before. Where was she? she thought wildly. Where was that calm, collected Kara now? She didn't recognise herself in the mindless, abandoned woman who reeled against the hard length of Saul's body, limp as a rag-doll, knowing only the yearning ache deep inside, the longing for this moment to go on for ever. She wanted this, wanted it with every nerve in her body, with every sense, with her mind, her heart, with every irrational, intuitive feeling she possessed. All her instincts were newly awake to the sight, the sound, the scent, the feel of Saul, and though her eyes were closed that darkly devastating face was etched in her mind so that she could see it as clearly as if it were imprinted on her eyelids. As Saul's hands moved, one across her back, the other to her waist to secure his hold on her, she knew an all-pervading sense of joy that the passion she had felt burned in him too, a passion she couldn't explain or rationalise, but rational thought no longer mattered, feeling was all-important. 'God!' Saul muttered, his voice thick and rough. 'If you knew how much I've wanted this. I've wanted to kiss you since the moment I saw you. That day in the street I wanted to grab you and kiss you senseless, wipe that cold proud look from your face and make you
feel as I felt, make you forget who you were and what I am. I wanted to make you see we're just a man and a woman and nothing else matters—and now I have, haven't I, Kara?' His lips were on her cheek now, trailing burning kisses outwards and upwards across the creamy skin, his mouth just brushing the corner of her eye as he cradled her face in his hands, holding her prisoner by only the very lightest touch. 'You don't give a damn what I am, do you, my lovely?' he whispered against her skin, the warm caress of his breath sending shivering sensations of pleasure down her spine so that she could only shake her head wordlessly. It seemed she no longer knew who he was or even cared. He was a man who, in those few, brief minutes, was capable of making her feel all woman. She didn't want him to talk. Since his lips had left hers she had felt a tormenting sense of loneliness and frustration so that now, with a little sound low in her throat, she lifted her hands and linked them behind his head, burying them in the soft darkness of his hair as she drew his face down to her again. But a tantalisingly brief and gentle kiss was all that Saul allowed her, teasing her lips with a fleeting caress before he broke from her restraining hands with a low, uneven sigh. 'The hall isn't quite the place for this,' he told her softly, a smile curling his lips at the sight of the reproach in her green eyes. 'Surely we can find somewhere more comfortable.' He was heading towards the living-room as he spoke, pushing open the door for all the world as if it were his home, not hers, Kara stumbling at his side on legs that were far from steady, not caring where they went or what they did, feeling only that she
would follow this man to the ends of the earth if that was what he asked of her. It was the sight of her own living-room springing suddenly into focus as a light was switched on that brought her back down to earth—or partly there. She stood in the centre of the room, staring at the cream walls, the soft grey settee and chairs piled with pastelcoloured cushions, as if by doing so she could regain some sense of the woman to whom the room belonged, a woman who was suddenly as distant from her as the moon. Slowly her breathing calmed, her heart steadied from its uneven thumping against her ribs, and she drew a long, uncertain breath. 'Kara.' A quiet voice spoke her name and she turned slowly in response. Saul was standing just inside the doorway, his dark masculinity totally alien in the cool, pastel-toned elegance of the small room. His jacket discarded, his shirt sleeves pushed up from the bronzed strength of the arms that were folded across his broad chest, he looked all male, all predator, the wild jungle-cat seeking his mate, and the possessive look in the ebony eyes proclaimed that he had found her and—Kara thought on a shudder of response—that he had every intention of keeping her. She swallowed deeply, trying to maintain the control she had imposed on her heart and her breathing, but her body defied her mind, quickening her pulse-rate as Saul put out his hand in an imperious gesture, silently ordering her to come to him. Where was her pride now? What had happened to that independence she so valued? She didn't know, didn't care, as, moving as if in a dream, she took a slow step towards him. She felt like a child on Christmas morning, knowing that the gift she had
dreamed of was there, that it was hers and all she had to do was reach out and take it. But there was a secret pleasure in delaying the moment, in anticipating the joy, and so she lingered, not rushing into Saul's arms, acknowledging to herself that she now knew what had been missing in her life and that in Saul she had found it. But Saul had none of her patience. With an exclamation of annoyance he crossed the room in four swift strides, 'clamping his hands down hard on her shoulders and pulling her roughly towards him. The strength of his touch set fire to Kara's senses once more, melting all restraint, so that she lifted her face for his kiss, returned the pressure of his lips without hesitation, and, with his mouth still on hers, let him draw her with him until they were half sitting, half lying on the settee, her legs imprisoned under the weight of his body. Through a mist of pleasure she felt Saul's hands go to her hair. 'This will have to go,' he muttered roughly, his fingers busy finding and removing pins from the heavy golden plaits, combing through the gleaming strands until the whole silky mane tumbled loose around her shoulders like a glistening waterfall. It felt so good; the sensation of freedom exhilarating her so that she shook her head slightly, revelling in the sensual experience, and heard Saul's low, exultant laugh. 'I knew there was a real woman under that cool, businesslike facade,' he declared. 'Don't you ever wear your hair up again—not when I've with you—that's an order!' But Kara wasn't listening. She didn't want to talk, except to say just two words.
'Kiss me,' she whispered and the words dissolved into a moan of satisfaction as Saul did just that. The violent passion seemed to have eased now. Saul was like a man who had been dying of thirst but who had quenched his greatest need with that one savage assault and was now content to sip slowly, savouring every mouthful. He drifted light, compelling kisses across every part of her face and down the soft line of her throat, kisses that revived that aching need she had known earlier but somehow held her hypnotised, totally given up to the exquisite sensations he was awakening in every nerve-end. Kara lay in a haze of delight, feeling his hands wander lazily over her body, lingering at the curve of breast and hip, his touch so gentle and sensitive that it was a sensual pleasure and yet a tantalising torment all at once. His teasing caresses awoke a burning craving deep inside her so that she writhed against the soft cushions, moaning his name in frustration and longing, needing to feel his hands on her body without the barrier of her clothes between them. She ached to know the erotic sensation of that abrasive roughness on the tender flesh of her breasts, the need so intense that when Saul's hands finally slipped under the soft material of her tunic she felt tears of pleasure spring to her eyes and slide out on to her cheeks in spite of the effort she made to blink them back. 'Kara?' There was a new note in Saul's voice, a concerned, almost anxious tone. Warm lips brushed a tear from the corner of her eye. 'What is it? Am I going too fast for you? You've only got to say -' 'Oh, no -' Kara sighed. Not too fast, at least, not in the sense he meant.
In just a few short minutes she had learned everything that had been missing in her life before now; sensations crowding in on her thick and fast, too swiftly to be absorbed and fully enjoyed. One night was too short a time to make up for years of emptiness. She wanted to take it slowly, savour every new discovery, every new pleasure—and yet she was filled with a longing to grab at everything greedily in the desire to know the final fulfilment that the moments of anticipation promised. Slowly she opened her eyes to gaze wonderingly up into the dark face only inches away from her own. With a hand that shook noticeably she traced the contours of bone, trailed delicate fingertips over the lean planes of Saul's cheeks, the shape of his eyes, the line of his mouth. In her thoughts only days before she had likened this man to a barrel of dynamite but now it seemed that the fuse which had taken light then had led to her own heart, sparking off an explosion of feeling she hadn't known she possessed—and Saul was the man who had set the match to the fuse. Suddenly, as if seeing herself mirrored in the depths of Saul's eyes, 'Kara became intensely aware of how she must look, her hair a tangled golden cloud on the cushions behind her head, her body sprawling in abandoned contentment under Saul's, her eyes shining with a sensual light, her lips slightly swollen and softly smiling with the drugging pleasure that was the result of Saul's closeness. The contented smile widened as she mentally refuted Helen's scathing comments. Frigid was she? Afraid of a real, red-blooded man? If Helen could see her now, she'd soon change her tune. 'You look like the cat who got the cream,' Saul drawled softly. 'What are you thinking? And what does that secret smile mean?'
Perhaps it was the delayed effect of the wine she had drunk, perhaps the warmth of Saul's body and his kisses had lulled her into a false sense of security. dulling her instincts for self-preservation. Whatever it was, Kara's mind was too hazy to think of possible consequences as she twisted round so that she was lying face to face with Saul and ran a caressing, possessive hand down the strong line of his body, making him sigh his pleasure aloud. 'I was thinking of Helen,' she told him, a soft laugh in her voice as her hand slid over his hip and thigh and then, having reached as far as it could, returned to his chest to repeat the movement, her eyes on her fingers and the powerful body beneath them so that she missed his quick frown. 'Helen?' 'Mmm.' Kara's smile deepened as she altered the direction of her hand, trailing it over Saul's chest to toy with the buttons on his shirt, too intoxicated by her own feelings to recognise the sudden sharpening of his tone. 'She said I couldn't attract a real man—that the only men who interested me were stuffed shirts, dead from the neck down—but she was wrong, wasn't she? I've— we've proved her wrong,' she ended on an exultant note, lifting eyes that glowed emerald-bright with triumph to Saul's face. The vivid light faded at once when she saw his expression. Saul's response was immediate. His whole body stiffened, muscles coiling tight like those of a tiger about to spring, his hands closed over hers, dragging them down from his shirt, his mouth forming a violent obscenity as he twisted away from her, flinging himself off the settee, his face almost black with fury.
'You scheming little bitch!' he spat the words at her, towering over her so threateningly that she shrank back on the cushions as if his words were physical blows that rained down on her. 'So that's what brought about this change of heart! I should have known something was up when you actually asked me out! I should have known,' he repeated in a voice thick with bitter self- derision. 'I thought perhaps you'd changed—but it was all just an experiment, wasn't it? Just to see if you could entice me into your sick little trap—to prove to your friends that you could do it. God, you disgust me!' Appalled and terrified, Kara sprang to her feet. 'It wasn't—I didn't -' Her voice failed her completely. What could she say? Wasn't it really all true? Wasn't she guilty, in part at least, if not of everything he had accused her of? Hadn't Helen's words been at the back of her mind, giving her the final push into that impetuous invitation? But that wasn't all of it! There had been that emptiness she had wanted to fill—an emptiness she now knew was far more important than anyone else's thoughts or opinions. Tonight she had discovered what was missing in her life, had found that Saul could fill that aching gap—and now, with her foolish, thoughtless words, she had destroyed everything. There was nothing she could say that would ever put it right. An apology was totally inadequate— and pointless. Even if Saul listened, he would never believe it. Oh, why hadn't she kept her mouth shut! If only she had never spoken, if only she could wish those dreadful words unsaid, if only they could start again—impossible dreams all of them! The only thing she could hope for now was to tend this appalling situation with some degree of dignity.
'I think you'd better go,' she said stiffly, then to her horror she saw Saul shake his head, saw that swift, hard smile she had come to dread. 'Oh no, milady, you don't get away with it that easily. You used me, Blondie. What's to stop me doing the same to you?' Every trace of colour faded from Kara's face, leaving her eyes glittering jewel-bright in an unnaturally white face, and her hand twisted convulsively in the tumbled curls at her neck. 'I—I don't understand.' 'It's quite simple.' Saul's eyes were hard as flint in a stony, set mask that bore no resemblance to the face of the man she had shared her hopes and dreams with, the man who had made her laugh, the man who had made her want him above all others such a short time before. 'You used me to bolster your selfish little ego in the eyes of your friends, set me up because your pride couldn't take the thought that they might be laughing at you behind your back. Well, I've got my pride too— and I don't take too kindly to the idea of your claiming that you had me on a string but you tired of me -' 'But I wouldn't!' Kara protested vehemently, but Saul cut in on her, his voice cold and hard as steel. 'Wouldn't you?' he snarled. 'Are you trying to tell me you'd actually admit that I rejected you! Well, I don't intend to give you the chance. I reckon you owe me one, Blondie, and I have every intention of collecting my debts. So as far as your friends are concerned none of this ever happened—our relationship is very definitely on—and it'll stay that way until I say otherwise.' 'And if I don't agree you'll make sure that Helen— and, as a result, everyone else on my staff—learns some very sordid facts, I
suppose?' Kara almost choked on the words. 'You can't mean it! There is no relationship to maintain. You don't even like me!' Saul's shrug was a gesture of indifference mixed with a contemptuous dismissal of her words. 'Feelings don't come into it. I like classy women, and you are pure class with a capital C. Don't worry, I'll make sure you don't lose on the deal, I'll give you a good time—I can, you know,' he added softly as Kara shook her head despairingly. 'Remember, I have some very strong evidence that you're not exactly indifferent to me.' 'I won't do it! You can't make me!' 'What's the matter, Blondie?' Saul's voice was soft as Velvet but Kara was only too well aware of the steel beneath the caressing tone. 'Don't you get your kicks from slumming after all? It's strange,' he went on almost to himself. 'I could have sworn you felt quite differently earlier.' His eyes slid deliberately to the settee, resting on the disordered, crumpled cushions, and hot colour flooded Kara's cheeks at the memory of the abandoned, sensual woman who had lain there in his arms. 'You're crazy!' 'Maybe I am,' Saul flung back at her. 'But perhaps a little lunacy is what you're looking for.' His words seemed to hang in the air in the same second that a secret voice was forming just the same thought in Kara's mind. Wasn't this what she had wanted all along? Hadn't she wanted to keep the excitement that simply being with Saul seemed to offer?
Wasn't that why she had asked to see him again less than an hour before? And as she hesitated she knew that, simply by hesitating, she was already half way to agreeing, emotionally if not rationally. 'But what would you get out of it?' she asked slowly. 'You.' The single syllable sounded harsh and unyielding. 'I've always wanted you—even years ago when you were just a skinny teenager. I wanted you then and I still want you—more than ever now because you've turned into one very sexy lady. But you think you're too good for me. Just because you live here in your smart town house and keep your hands nice and clean in your little toy bookshop, you think I'm not fit to touch you. But I have touched you, haven't I, my lovely? And we both know how good it felt— and, believe me, that was only the beginning.' It was crazy, but Kara knew she was weakening. In desperation she closed her eyes to shut out the mesmeric force of those dark eyes, but she couldn't shut out the enticing, seductive sound of his voice, and when his fingers touched her cheek, the very fact that she couldn't see heightened the erotic appeal of the roughened skin on his palm so that, mindlessly, she inclined her head to press it against his hand. 'I could make it so very good for you, Kara,' Saul whispered huskily. 'And that's what you want, isn't it? We may not like each other very much, but perhaps we can work on that. I want you, Kara, and if this is the only way I'm going to get you, I'll take it. If you fight me I'll fight back—but why fight? We're both adults, we both know where we stand—you take me as I am and I'll do the same for you. Some very successful relationships have been built on nothing more than sexual attraction—and we certainly have that going for us.'
Why fight? Suddenly the absurdity of the situation struck Kara so forcefully that she almost laughed out loud. Why was she fighting? Wasn't this what she had wanted? So, they would both be using each other—but no one stood to be hurt that way. She couldn't go back to the sterility of the sort of relationship she had had with Rod, and, after all, Saul wasn't offering to marry her! An affair, that was all it would be, no strings—and no one thought twice about such things these days. She was twenty-four, it was time she lived a little. 'This—arrangement—how long would it last?' Saul's mouth quirked up into a strange half-smile. 'As long as we're both getting what we want from it. Do I take it you're agreeing to the deal?' 'One Condition.' Kara drew herself up. She had let this man knock her off balance too easily, it was time she started asserting herself. After all, she was no silly little girl to be swept off her feet! She had wanted this man earlier—and she still wanted him now. She wanted the affair he offered too, but it was her choice, her decision. She wasn't going to let him think she was agreeing just because he'd got her cornered with his implied threat to tell Helen everything. That was just emotional blackmail. 'Your condition?' Saul prompted lazily and Kara turned a controlled and confident face towards him. 'As you said, there are no feelings involved, but that doesn't mean I'm going to jump into bed with you just as soon as you snap your fingers. I'm not denying I find you very attractive and when—if—I
decide to take the relationship that stage further I'll let you know. Until then, it's hands off.' She felt a surge of triumph at the way his head went back, his eyes narrowing swiftly. He hadn't expected her to give as good as she got! Delighted at having gained the upper hand for once, Kara pressed home her advantage. 'And if you don't like that, you can forget the whole thing. Tell Helen what you like, tell the whole world. I don't give a damn!' Was that amusement or anger glinting deep in the darkness of his eyes—or could it even be a hint of admiration? Kara couldn't begin to guess. 'Dear me, what a very liberated lady you are,' Saul murmured drily. 'All right, I agree to your condition. So do we seal the bargain with a kiss?' Kara managed a cool little smile. She hadn't expected him to agree quite so readily but at least his acquiescence made her feel a little more in control of her own destiny. 'Of course,' she murmured softly, standing on tiptoe to press a swift, impersonal kiss on his cheek before stepping back, well out of reach. 'Good night, Saul,' she added calmly. Saul's smile was wry. 'That wasn't quite what I had in mind and you know it,' he told her. 'But it will do for now. As for the rest, I can wait—I reckon you'll be worth waiting for.
CHAPTER SEVEN 'I'M giving a party to celebrate having survived the first three months of motherhood without a complete breakdown.' Hattie's laughing voice sounded clearly in Kara's head as she pressed the doorbell firmly, hearing it echo in the lighted hall of her friend's home, and she smiled to herself at the memory. She was looking forward to an evening in Hattie's company. The brief telephone calls they had shared in the past few weeks had been decidedly unsatisfactory but they had been all that could be fitted in to what little time was left free from the demands of work—and Saul. Kara's eyes slid to the man beside her, his black shirt and trousers blending with the gathering dusk, giving him a shadowy, unreal appearance. But she didn't need light to see the strongly carved lines of his face, the dark pools of his eyes, that image was etched firmly into her brain and just lately it had been the last thing that had floated before her mind's eye as she fell asleep. It was still there in the morning too, the first picture in her thoughts on waking. Day and night, he was part of her life, whether as a. physical presence at her side or the dark, disturbing image that haunted her dreams. She had dreamed of him that first night after they had come to their 'arrangement', waking in a cold sweat at the thought of what she'd done. Several times throughout the morning she had reached for the telephone directory, determined to ring Saul at work and tell him she'd changed her mind and then reconsidered. The one time she had actually got as far as looking up the number she found that there were far more branches of Sinclair Garages than she had ever realised. She was sure that, in the days when her
parents had used Bob Sinclair's firm, there had been only the one main branch and another, smaller garage on the far side of town. Clearly the business had expanded since then—and she had no idea at which branch Saul worked. With a sigh she replaced the directory in the top drawer of her desk. The only entry listed under Diamond was not Saul but an F. Diamond who might or might not be his father, and as she didn't know if he was or even if Saul still lived at home she would have to leave it until she could speak to him face to face. But when her lunchtime came and, with it, Saul, sauntering into the shop in yet another pair of scruffy jeans and an equally worn denim jacket, Kara found her resolve weakening just at the sight of him. He seemed to fill the room with his vitality, the forcefully masculine body dominating the space around him, the arrogant tilt to his head, the confident gleam in his eyes drawing attention— and holding it. There was something else too, A moment when his narrow-eyed, searching gaze swept round the shop and found her in the doorway of her office, her light jacket in her hand, just about to leave on her lunch-break. As their eyes met across the width of the room, Saul's expression suddenly altered, the deep brown of his eyes lighting with aft unexpected warmth as he smiled—and the smile was clearly meant for her alone. It had to be an act, Kara told herself firmly. He had told her there were no feelings involved, other than the purely sexual ones he had openly declared. But just for that split second he had made her feel as if the bookshop, the customers, even Tessa gaping undisguisedly from the counter, had ceased to exist and there were just the two of them in the world.
You're my woman, that smile had said. The only woman I want; the only woman in the world for me. And Kara would not have been human if she hadn't felt a deep inner fire start to burn in response, lighting her face with an answering smile as she walked towards him, taking the hand he held out to her without hesitation. 'I'll be back at two,' she told Tessa, laughter bubbling up inside her at the sight of the younger girl's stunned expression. She was unable to resist a glance at Saul's face to see how he was taking Tessa's reaction and immediately wished she hadn't when she saw the gleam of hidden laughter lighting his eyes too. She felt Saul's grip tighten warningly on her hand as he schooled his expression into one of easy friendliness and directed a casual nod in Tessa's direction. The struggle he was having to control his amusement almost destroyed Kara's composure and it was all they could do to get out of the shop before their restraint broke completely. 'Oh Blondie!' Saul exclaimed, his voice shaking with laughter. 'Anyone would think you'd suddenly sprouted horns or pink hair! What did you do that was so shocking?' 'I didn't do anything!' Kara protested unevenly, her reserve melting in their shared amusement. 'It was you!' Some of her doubts crept back as she saw the way Saul's face sobered suddenly. 'Am I really so very different?' he asked sharply, and Kara could only nod a silent response. 'I didn't believe the things you said about Helen last night,' Saul went on more quietly. 'When I got home and thought about it, I felt you must have been exaggerating but—God in heaven, Blondie! What sort of men have you been seeing?'
'Rod Elliott.' Rod was a well-known local businessman; Saul would almost certainly have heard of him. 'Elliott!' Saul's response was a snort of contempt. 'He's old enough to be your father!' Kara bristled at his tone. 'Not quite!' she snapped. 'As near as damn it!' Saul retorted. 'No wonder young Tessa was stunned. If Elliott's your usual type, she must have thought you'd flipped when she saw you with me.' With nervous fingers Kara smoothed an imaginary loose strand back into the gleaming coil at the nape of her neck. She felt uneasy at the way the conversation was going and the fact that they were still on the pavement outside 'Pages', in full view of Tessa and everyone else in the shop, only added to her discomfiture. 'We'd better move,' she began, but her nervous gesture had drawn Saul's attention to her hair and he frowned his displeasure. 'I thought I told you to leave your hair loose.' Before she had quite realised what he had in mind his fingers had moved unerringly to the pins that secured the silky weight of hair, removing them swiftly and efficiently. 'Saul, stop it!' Kara hissed furiously but her protest went unheeded. 'Much better,' Saul declared with smug satisfaction as he surveyed the golden mane that tumbled about her shoulders. 'In fact -' Through a haze of shock Kara felt herself being gathered up into his arms, then she was being soundly and thoroughly kissed, much to the delight and amusement of an interested crowd of passers-by.
Her heart lurched violently, her senses swimming, and for a moment she melted against him, giving herself up to the delight of his caress. But then the recollection of where they were Had her hands clenching into tight fists, pounding his broad shoulders in embarrassed fury. Saul simply ignored her anger, holding her firmly for just as long as he wanted before he released her gently with one last, lingering kiss. With an effort Kara wrenched her mouth away from his. 'What the hell do you think you're playing at!' she flashed at him, emerald eyes blazing, hot colour burning in her cheeks. Saul's response was a lazily amused smile. 'Did you know you're even more beautiful when you're angry?' he murmured provocatively, then, as she drew breath for a furious retort, he continued smoothly, 'and 1 wasn't playing at anything. For one thing, your little friend Tessa has her eyes practically out on stalks right now. You wouldn't want to disappoint her, would you?' 'Disappoint her!' Kara spluttered, not knowing where to look and painfully aware of the huge windows behind her, giving Tessa a perfect view of everything that had happened. 'I—don't you dare do anything like that ever again!' Another slow smile mocked her incoherent anger. 'Oh, come now, Blondie,' Saul taunted. 'You wanted your friends to think you'd hooked a real man.' 'I told you—I don't give a damn what they think.'
'So you did.' Saul appeared unconvinced. 'Still, it won't hurt your image to let them think I can't keep my hands off you.' Which was precisely the story it would take Tessa all of five minutes to circulate around the entire staff, Kara thought ruefully. It was one thing to say she didn't care what people thought, quite another to contemplate the way her private life was rapidly becoming very public property. If she had any sense at all she would end this farce right here and now. But then Saul caught hold of her hand, folding his broad, hard palm around it, enclosing it completely and tucking it into the pocket of his jacket, and there was something very welcoming and companionable about the gesture. 'I'm starving,' he said lightly. 'Come on, let's find a pub and have something to eat.' He gave her no chance to protest as he set off down the street and Kara followed automatically, her steps blending easily with his. It was lucky she was tall, she thought inconsequently. A smaller woman would have trouble keeping up with Saul's easy, confident stride. But why go with him at all? It would be easy enough to pull her fingers from his grasp, leaving her free to go her own way once more. But her hand felt warm and safe enclosed in Saul's— and she couldn't forget the sudden leap of her heart when he had smiled at her and again when he had kissed her. Kara smiled slightly wryly. Rod would have died sooner than make any such display of his feelings in public. In fact, she wasn't at all sure that Rod had had any feelings to display! There was no doubt about it, Saul was not the sort of man she was used to. It would be fascinating to discover in just what other ways he was different. So she left her hand where it was, quickening her pace a little to keep up with Saul.
In the days that followed, Kara found that the word that applied to her relationship with Saul was unpredictable. Her ordered, peaceful existence was suddenly turned upside down. Not for Saul the formally organised and meticulously planned evenings that had formed the bulk of her social life with Rod, he made no definite dates but simply turned up at her home or at the shop with a suggestion of a drink in a cosy pub, a trip to a Sunday market or, as the weather improved, a picnic by the sea. It didn't take her long to realise that, in general, he preferred to avoid the more public and crowded places, opting for a quiet evening a deux instead of the elegant but boring dinner parties Rod had been so keen on, so that in a very short time the majority of her smart dresses were consigned to the back of her wardrobe, casual skirts and jeans being more appropriate to the time she spent with Saul. After all, she could hardly ride pillion on a motorbike in expensive satin or silk, and, after much patient persuasion, she had finally been cajoled into doing just that. At first she had been reluctant. 'I can't!' she had declared, eyeing the dark, gleaming monster on which Saul had arrived that evening with distinct apprehension. 'I'll stick to my Fiat, it's much more comfortable—and safer!' 'Come off it, Blondie, don't tell me you're scared!' The mockery she had expected was in Saul's voice but it was mixed with a gentler, teasing quality that was delightfully new. 'You didn't panic like this yesterday.' 'We were in a car yesterday!' Kara protested, choosing to forget the soaring excitement that had filled her at the speed at which they had travelled back up the motorway on their return from a trip to the coast.
Saul dismissed her objection with an impatient gesture. 'You trusted my driving—so why not trust me now?' Unexpectedly he leaned towards her, his hands resting on the handlebars of the machine that stood between them. 'I won't let anything happen to you,' he murmured enticingly. 'I still think it would be a crime if anything spoiled that beautiful face.' Memories of the other time he had said almost the same thing burned in Kara's mind so that she couldn't meet the dark intensity of his eyes but let her gaze slide away to fix firmly on the lean brown shape of his hands resting on the silver metal. She trusted those hands, having seen so many times their confident sureness and strength, and she trusted the mind that controlled them, knowing Saul's intuitive skill. The speed of his reactions that was like a sixth sense where cars were concerned would mean he was more than capable of handling the powerful machine without risk to herself or anyone else. All at once the lure of her own secret ambition overcame her fear. 'You're on!' she said and heard Saul's laugh of triumph. Minutes later, Kara's initial terror had changed to a breathless delight as, wide-eyed with exhilaration, she clung to Saul's firm, dependable strength, totally oblivious of the cold, buffeting force of the wind, laughing out loud at the thrill of seeing the countryside whistle past. When Saul finally returned the bike to her gate she didn't even try to disguise her disappointment that the trip hadn't lasted longer. 'It's like flying!' she gasped, her eyes sparkling, the colour that burned high on her cheekbones not just the result of the wild ride. That had been electrifying enough, but when combined with the more potently sensual effect of being pressed up close against
Saul, her arms tight around his narrow waist, feeling the play of the powerful muscles in his back with every movement, the total effect was devastating. 'When can we do it again?' she demanded, her face alight with impatience to repeat the experience, and saw Saul throw back his head as he laughed at her exuberance. 'You're like a kid with a new toy,' he teased, the warmth of his laughter still lingering in his voice. 'I thought you didn't approve of anything that went faster than forty miles an hour.' 'I didn't know what I was missing.' Kara's heart seemed to skip a beat as Saul's dark eyes suddenly locked with hers and held her gaze for a long, silent moment. As if from a long way away she heard his quiet voice. 'Any time you like, Kara. You've only got to say,' he said softly and they both knew he wasn't just talking about another trip on the bike. If he held out his arms she would go straight into them, Kara thought. If he said, 'Come to bed,' she wouldn't hesitate, and the realisation made her close her eyes in confusion, breaking the spell. Because Saul would never say those words; he was waiting for her to say them. In fact, they were both waiting for her to say them but a feeling like a hard, tight knot in her throat choked them back unspoken. When she had imposed her 'condition' on their relationship,' Kara knew that she had really only done so to assert her control over the situation. Really, it had been nothing more than a gesture, she was well aware that the passion Saul had awoken in her would not be
contained for very long. His kisses roused such sweetly sensual longings in her that almost every night she had lain awake for hours, unable to quieten the restless murmuring of her body that ached for the fulfilment she knew Saul could give her. So it had come as a distinct shock when Saul had stuck to the letter of their arrangement, making no overt moves and keeping his distance physically as well as mentally, and as a result Kara had found herself quite unable to make the first move. However much she longed for Saul's lovemaking she couldn't bring herself to declare cold-bloodedly that she wanted him in her bed, and the result was an uneasy and uncomfortable stalemate that made her feel as if every nerve was fraying at the edges. Now, Kara felt a sensation like the fluttering of a thousand butterfly wings start up inside her as she waited for Hattie to let them in. She was well aware that the reason her friend had given for holding this party was just an excuse to cover the truth—which was that she was dying to meet Saul and judge him for herself— but it was hard to define just why that knowledge made her so nervous. Naturally, Hattie had been one of the first to know that Kara was seeing Saul regularly though she had never told her friend the full truth of how the relationship had actually come about, and she had always known that one day, inevitably, Hattie and Saul would have to meet. She had taken other men friends to Hattie's parties without a qualm, knowing that their friendship was of that special kind that would survive no matter what, so that even if one of them had hated the other's partner it wouldn't have changed anything between them—but this time it was different. Her uncharacteristic nervousness at the prospect of the meeting between Hattie and Saul told her that this time it mattered that they should like one
another—but the reasons why it mattered were not ones she was ready to probe too deeply. In the end she was distracted from further speculation on that subject by the opening of the door, and Hattie's typically effusive welcome. Relieved at the excuse to shelve the problem for the time being, Kara was gathered into a warm hug that pressed her up against a magnificent blue and gold kaftan that was only very slightly marked by spots of baby milk high up on the right shoulder. 'Kara, it's wonderful to see you—and looking so gorgeous too! Is that new?' Disentangling herself, Hattie took a step backwards to get a better view of the cream silk trouser-suit Kara was wearing. 'No, I remember—you bought that in Nottingham. But there's something different. Your hair!' she exclaimed in triumph, her eyes going to the cascade of waves that fell around Kara's face. 'That's it! It looks lovely—I always said you should leave it loose more often.' Kara's smile at her friend's enthusiasm held a touch of irony. She could claim no credit for the new style, it was the result of Saul's adamant refusal to allow her to wear her hair any other way. On the few occasions she had asserted her independence by pinning it up in its usual more formal style he hadn't said a word but had adopted the simple expedient of immediately removing every pin as he had on that day outside 'Pages', no matter where they were or who was looking. In the end she had found it easier to leave it loose as he preferred and she had been frankly astounded by the number of compliments the new casual look had earned her. Now
her eyes slid to the man behind her, catching the twitch of his lips that showed he knew exactly how she was feeling. 'I'm glad you said that,' amusement warmed Saul's voice. 'I've had a hard time convincing Kara that wearing her hair loose doesn't make her look like Alice in Wonderland. Now perhaps she'll believe me.' His words drew Hattie's attention, her eyes bright as a bird's with undisguised curiosity. They filled with an equally unconcealed gleam of appreciation as she took in the height and breadth of him that seemed to fill the open doorway. 'You must be Saul.' Still keeping one hand on Kara's arm, Hattie thrust the other at Saul. 'I'm glad you could come though really I wouldn't have blamed you if you'd opted out. There's something terribly worrying about meeting someone else's friends. You know perfectly well that they're all dying to give you the onceover— which, of course, is absolutely true.' 'I rather suspected that was the case.' A laughing appreciation of Hattie's typically forthright manner lit in Saul's eyes. 'In my experience, meeting a girl's best friend is only one degree less of an ordeal than meeting her mother.' Did the irony in that low-toned voice jar on Hattie as much as it did on Kara? Privately Kara doubted it. She had never revealed the details of her mother's clash with Saul but her own memories gave an added edge to the lightly spoken words. 'We can get a little possessive,' Hattie admitted. 'After all, Kara and I have been like sisters for years, so naturally I'm concerned— or perhaps I should say downright nosy,' she amended with a grin. 'And do I pass the test?' The question came teasingly, clearly Saul was enjoying this as much as Hattie.
'Well, I have to admit I'm impressed.' An echo of Saul's amusement sounded in Hattie's voice as her eyes moved swiftly up and down the tall figure before her. 'After all, it's not every day I meet a man I can look up to.' Seeing Saul's swift smile, Kara felt a wave of release sweep through her, driving away her tension in a rush. It was only then that she realised just how tight her muscles had been. She could read Hattie like a book and she knew without a word having to be said that the vital spark was there. She didn't need her friend's swift, approving glance in her direction to tell her that Saul had indeed passed the test—and with flying colours— but she was stunned by the intensity of her reaction to that simple fact, so that for a few moments the conversation became a blur and she only focused on what Saul was saying as he pulled a small package from his pocket. 'Kara tells me you have a baby son,' he said, holding out the parcel to Hattie. 'I thought- he might like this.' 'This' turned out to be a brightly-coloured Humpty Dumpty figure made of felt with a comically smiling face and large, ungainly hands and feet. It was just the right size for small hands to be able to grasp it easily. As Hattie exclaimed her delight, Kara couldn't resist a swift glance at Saul's face. Hattie had cropped up in conversation on several occasions of course, but she was sure she had only mentioned Andrew once, very briefly, Saul's dark eyes met hers without expression but all the same there was something in that calm, thoughtful look that made her suddenly ashamed of her own surprise.
'That was kind of you,' she said a short time later when Hattie had pressed drinks into, their hands and disappeared to answer yet another summons from the doorbell. 'You couldn't have done anything that would please Hattie more—Andrew's the light of her life. Where did you find such a lovely thing?' 'Sheila—my stepmother—makes them,' was the unexpected reply. 'She was over the moon when I asked her for one. I suspect she has a secret longing to create all sorts of wonderful toys for some grandchildren but so far I've disappointed her in such matters.' There it was again, that warm note that was almost a smile in his voice when he spoke of his stepmother. It brought home to Kara just how strangely lopsided a picture she had of this man who was now so much a part of her life. She knew his favourite food, what he liked to drink, the films he enjoyed. She even knew his views on the environment, nuclear disarmament, politics, any one of the wide spectrum of subjects they had covered in their talks—but with the major exception of that all-important subject—Saul himself. To venture into that territory was to tread warily over treacherous ground scattered liberally with mines to trap the careless trespasser. She knew now that he worked at the Fleet Road branch, the main branch of Sinclair Garages, situated in the centre of town, which explained his frequent visits to 'Pages'—but even that had been drawn from him with difficulty and she still didn't know where he lived. Each time she had seen him he had called to collect her, delivering her back to her home at the end of the evening. Did he live with his father and stepmother? No sooner had the question slipped into her mind than she had framed it, seeing the swift shake of his dark head in response. 'I haven't lived at home for years. I moved out when Dad and Sheila married and got a place of my own.'
'Where?' was the next logical question but as soon as she had asked it Kara knew she had made a mistake. She saw his eyes darken, saw the mental step he took away from her. 'The other side of town.' His reply came curtly. Back off! Mind your own business! Was he ashamed of where he lived, comparing it unfavourably with her own expensive town house? But that didn't ring true. Saul—ashamed? It didn't fit with everything she knew of him. Never once had he tried to gloss over the differences between them. That fierce pride of his meant that he was far more likely to emphasise those differences than try to cover them up—which made it all the more puzzling that he hadn't taken her to his own home simply to show her, in his own words spoken so long ago, how the other half lived. Well, if he wouldn't talk about that, was Sheila a less explosive subject? 'I'd like to meet your stepmother,' she ventured tentatively, watching Saul's face for the signs of the shutters coming down. She knew enough about him now to look beyond the bland, social mask that often covered his face and into his eyes where his real feelings showed. To her surprise and delight they remained clear and unshadowed. 'I think she'd like to meet you too,' he said quietly. 'Perhaps tomorrow if you're free.' It was almost unbelievable it had been so easy. Accustomed as she was to his clamming up on anything that touched his personal life, Kara could hardly believe she had heard right. But almost immediately he had changed the subject and, not wanting to take any risks by pushing him further than he wanted to go, she followed his lead, though it was hard to suppress the tingle of
excitement that shot through her at the thought that he had let her take one more step towards discovering the real Saul. A short time later Kara was pounced on by Hattie and dragged into the kitchen on the pretext of helping with the food though she knew that her friend had another, ulterior motive for wanting to get her on her own. Sure enough, no sooner had they reached the sanctuary of the cluttered kitchen than Hattie rounded on her reprovingly. 'Four indeed!' she exclaimed in exasperation. 'That man's no four—let alone a five! He's got ten stamped all over him! It's lucky for you I'm besotted with Tom or you'd have a fight on your hands—best friend or not.' 'He is—very attractive.' Kara smiled at her friend's exuberance. 'Come off it, Karrie! The man's gorgeous and you know it. And so does every other woman here tonight by the look of things,' Hattie added with a nod in the direction of the area of the dining-room that could be seen through the serving hatch. Enclosed by the wooden surround, like a picture in a frame, Kara could see Saul lounging against the wall on the opposite side of the room, glass in hand. With his jacket discarded somewhere, the sleeves of his black shirt pushed back from his bronzed forearms, its collar loosened and the tie he had surprised her by wearing dragged to one side, he was once more the rakish pirate who had appeared so unexpectedly at her own party. With a lurch of her heart Kara saw that he was not alone. 'Heavens, Karrie,' he's the pirate king personified,' Hattie laughed in an uncanny echo of Kara's own thoughts. 'All he needs is an earring to complete the picture.'
But her words didn't even raise a smile on Kara's face. She was unable to drag her eyes away from the black-clad figure in the other room, miserably aware of the concentrated attention he was directing at the dainty fair-haired creature who stood at his side, the warmth of the smile that lit his face at something she had said. 'Who's that with Saul?' she asked faintly. 'Who? Oh that's Sharon—Sharon Anderson. Hey, Karrie!' Hattie reached out to shake Kara's arm. 'Don't look like that! You've no cause to be jealous.' Jealous! The word was like a slap in the face, jerking Kara back as a faint gasp escaped her lips. Not until Hattie had spoken the word out loud had she recognised the feeling for what it was. Jealousy was an alien feeling to her, totally unfelt before now. Her green eyes blank with shock, Kara stared unseeingly at her friend, testing her own emotional state, discovering to her horror that her heart felt burningly raw and painful. If this was what jealousy felt like then she loathed every hateful, hurtful second. 'Kara, stop it!' Hattie reproved sharply. 'Heavens, girl, you've got it bad if the poor man can't even talk to another woman! And you've nothing to worry about. For one thing, Sharon's very firmly married. You've met her husband, Terry—and look -' With a firm grip she twisted Kara round just in time to see the sturdy fair-haired man who had joined Saul and Sharon. Kara remembered him now, a friend of Tom's, another accountant. He and his wife had a house further down the crescent. Something of the raw feeling left her as she saw Saul smile a greeting to Sharon's husband, acknowledging his arrival with an ease that spoke of previous acquaintance. It was a relief to see the loving smile Sharon Anderson turned on her husband, the
automatic entwining of their hands as they stood so close together, but even as the sharp pain receded it left behind a dull nagging ache that revealed how savagely it had bruised her. 'I never thought I'd see it,' Hattie said quietly. 'But I think it's finally happened. Karrie love, I believe you've actually met the man who could knock those elegant little feet of yours right off the ground.' And in spite of the warmth in the kitchen Kara felt a shivering sense of something with a touch like icy water trickle down her spine as she acknowledged that Hattie was right. The aching, bruised sensation stayed with Kara throughout the evening, inhibiting her tongue and preventing her from relaxing, and it still lingered when she and Saul were in the car and pulling away from the kerb, having been seen off by Hattie and Tom, Turning in her seat for one final wave, Kara was completely thrown when she saw her friend lift both hands, fingers spread wide in a gesture that proclaimed 'Ten!' for all the world to see, a wicked grin lighting her face as she did so. 'What was all that about?' Saul asked, steering the car around a corner. 'Nothing! I mean—it's ten days before she starts back at work again,' Kara improvised hastily, grateful for the covering blanket of darkness that hid the rush of colour to her cheeks. 'She can't wait to get back.' 'That's not the impression I got. I thought she was totally besotted with her husband and that baby of hers.' 'Well, you don't know her, do you?' Was it just because of Hattie's teasing gesture that her voice sounded so sharp or was there more
to it than that, an echo of the jealousy she had felt at seeing him with Sharon? 'Not as well as you, perhaps,' Saul said evenly, not reacting to her tone, 'but I found Hattie very easy to get on with.' And not just Hattie! The memory of the smile he had given Sharon stabbed like a red-hot knife. 'You seemed to get on particularly well with the Andersons too,' she snapped and this time Saul did not „ let her bad temper pass unremarked. 'Surprised, Kara?' he asked satirically. 'Did you expect I'd let you down?' 'Don't be stupid!' Kara hoped that the vehemence with which she denied the sardonic accusation would hide the real reason for her snappishness. She had never had any doubt that Saul would blend in with her own social crowd. His innate intelligence and wideranging interests made him more than capable of holding his own in any company. Their conversations had shown that he possessed an ordered, logical mind and an amazing ability to see both sides of an argument so that she often caught him playing devil's advocate and arguing against the view he actually held as he had done during a discussion on the biography of Charles the First he had bought, going against ail Kara's expectations by expressing a sympathy for the King. A hot debate had ensued and it was only when he had won Kara round to his point of view that he confounded her completely by admitting that in fact he supported the Parliamentarian cause, laughing off her angry reproaches with the comment that there were always two sides to an argument. 'It might interest you to know that Terry Anderson and I are not exactly strangers.' Saul's voice broke in on her thoughts. 'As a
matter of fact he's the accountant for Sinclair Garages. I see quite a lot of him at work.' And of course it had been Terry's car that she had seen Saul working on in this very street—which explained the easy friendliness between Saul and the Andersons, but did nothing to ease the sense of shock at the intensity of her own reaction to it, so that when the car drew to a halt outside her house and Saul turned to- her, her stomach twisted in apprehension and involuntarily she tensed as his hand strayed over her shoulders, his fingers tracing the low-cut neckline of her cream silk top. 'You looked very lovely tonight, Blondie.' Saul's voice was just a husky murmur. 'You were quite the most beautiful woman there.' 'You didn't look so bad yourself.' It came out jerkily, the soft brush of his fingertips setting her nerves tingling in a response that seemed to split her mind in two, torn between the aching longing it awoke deep inside her, and the need to get away from Saul's overpowering presence, to be by herself and think things out. 'In fact I thought the whole evening went beautifully. You managed very well.' As the words left her mouth she flinched mentally at the realisation of how badly she had phrased them, wishing them back at once. But she had said them and the effect on Saul was dramatic. His hand was snatched away and clamped fiercely around the steering wheel, the stark whiteness of the tightly stretched scar betraying the effort he was making to keep his temper in check. 'I managed nothing!' he exploded savagely. 'Damn you, Kara, don't be so bloody patronising! I'm not a child to be praised for my good behaviour! All I did was treat your friends as if they were human beings— something you seem incapable of doing for me!'
'No! I mean—oh Saul, I'm sorry! I should never have said that.' It was too dark to see his expression clearly, impossible to read his thoughts from his shadowed face, but Kara thought she sensed a slight relaxation in the tautly held body at her side. 'I'm sorry,' she repeated more firmly and heard him draw a long, uneven breath. The distance between them was frightening. He was only a few inches away from her but he might have been on another planet, so remote and unapproachable did he seem, his earlier warmly sensual mood shattered completely. The pang of loss that stabbed at Kara made her forget about her need to be alone. 'Are you coming in tonight?' It was an effort to speak, to break the silence that had become almost tangible. A brusque shake of his dark head was Saul's only response, making Kara bite her lip in concern at the fear that he hadn't forgiven her for her thoughtless words. 'Not tonight,' he said at last, his voice strangely uneven. 'But I'll see you tomorrow—I think it's time you met my father and Sheila.' And with that Kara had to be content. Saul's good night kiss was an almost insultingly brief and impersonal touch of his lips which did nothing to lighten Kara's mood and had her shaking her head in confusion as she stood watching the lights of his car disappear down the road. Where did she go from here? She had gone into this looking for excitement, the physical passion of her first sexual affair, but that was not how things had developed. So why persist with a
relationship that was not, as Saul had said, giving her what she wanted? But then she recalled the swift rush of relief, the lifting of her spirits when Saul had told her that he would see her the next day and would take her to meet his father and stepmother, so opening one small door into the private world he had until now kept strictly under lock and key. There was a different sort of excitement to be found in the discovery of the many facets of the character of a man who had come to interest her more each time she saw him. It wasn't the mindless, burning intoxication she had thought to find but in the long run it might well prove infinitely more satisfactory.
CHAPTER EIGHT THERE had to be some mistake! Kara almost spoke the words out loud but, suddenly aware of Saul sitting silently at her side, caught them back just in time. When Saul had spoken of his father's home she had anticipated the sort of terraced house he had lived in as a child or perhaps a slightly run-down semi, not this neat modern bungalow with its impeccable lawns and flower-filled borders. But Saul was already getting out of the car and heading for the wrought-iron gates and she was obliged to follow him, a secret wave of guilty embarrassment seeming to drain the strength from her legs at the thought that the shrewd, penetrating glance he had shot her as he turned off the engine could not have missed the thoughts that were written so clearly on her face. 'Your prejudices are showing.' She could almost hear Saul's sardonic tones in her head and miserably she had to admit that the accusation was true. Her uncomfortable feelings kept her awkwardly silent throughout the short wait before the door was opened by a smiling grey-haired woman in a neat navy cotton dress. Sheila Diamond was in her late fifties or perhaps her early sixties, it was impossible to tell accurately because her figure was trim and firm, her face almost unlined, and the springy silver hair gleamed with the gloss of good health. Kara had several minutes in which to observe these details because in the moment Saul stepped over the threshold the older woman's arms came round him in a warm, enveloping hug. Unobserved and forgotten, Kara felt a lump come into her throat at the sight of the dark head so close to the silver one, Saul stooping slightly to allow for the difference in height. Sheila's face lit from within by a glow that was mirrored in the strangely softened face of her stepson. Kara's heart seemed to turn over inside her as she stared at a man she suddenly didn't know. Where was the wild pirate now? Where
was the arrogant self-assurance that seemed to mock at the idea that he might actually need anyone? Tears burned her eyes and she blinked hard to drive them away, afraid of their significance, afraid of admitting to the sudden longing that one day Saul's face might soften in just this way for her. Fool! she reproved herself furiously. Blind, dreaming fool! There was no room for such feelings in their relationship. She would only get tangled up in them and they would drag her down. Saul wasn't the man to fulfill those needs. But now Sheila Diamond had turned towards her, her hand outstretched in greeting and with a supreme effort Kara fixed a bright smile on her face as Saul performed the necessary introductions. 'I'm so glad you've come, Kara,' Sheila said a short time later when they were alone in the bungalow's light, airy sitting-room, Saul having disappeared into the garden in search of his father. 'I've been longing to meet you. Frank and I were so pleased when Saul rang to say he was bringing you here today, it's not something that happens very often.' 'But there must have been other girls!' A good- looking man like Saul could never have been without feminine company for long. 'Oh, plenty.' Sheila's smile was wry. 'But none who stayed around for long. Saul's not an easy man to get to know. He keeps himself to himself and lets the world think what it will. He's always been too independent, too much the loner to let people get close to him.' A faint sigh escaped the older woman. 'He's got an old head on young shoulders and I'm afraid he's always put all his emotional energy into his job rather than relationships.' 'You've known him a long time?'
'Since he was sixteen. He was just the same then, determined, hardworking, and always plagued by that fierce pride of his. Take me as you find me, that's always been his way. When he first came to work for Bob he was as prickly as a hedgehog and even now he can be outrageously intolerant of anyone who judges only by appearance. He's right of course—a big house, expensive car, stylish clothes don't make anyone any more or less than the person they are—but Saul does tend to take it to extremes. He doesn't find it easy to compromise, it's all or nothing with him, so he can be outrageously demanding of the people he cares about. But underneath it all he's a very good man, loyal, caring and totally straight—no show, no pretence.' The last half of Sheila's speech barely registered. From the moment she had said 'when he first came to work for Bob' a large question mark had filled Kara's mind. 'Bob?' she asked as Sheila fell silent. 'Bob Sinclair,' Sheila told her in evident surprise. 'My first husband, didn't Saul tell you? I understood you knew him.' 'My parents did. I was so sorry to hear of his death.' Kara spoke automatically, her lips forming the polite words as her mind sorted out the pieces of the jigsaw that had been given to her and slotted them into place. Sheila Diamond, formerly Sheila Sinclair, now married to Saul's father. It explained the surprise of the smart bungalow and, more than that, it gave an added dimension to Saul's easy friendliness with Terry Anderson—his stepmother's accountant. The sound of voices announced the approach of the two men and Kara's eyes went swiftly to the large french windows as Saul and his father came into the room.
If she hadn't known who she was going to see, she would have known at once that the man with Saul was his father. He had the same deep brown eyes and dark curling hair, still thick and luxuriant in spite of his age. But the strongly carved face, so reminiscent of his son's, was marked with lines of strain and past suffering and she was unable to tell if Frank Diamond possessed his son's imposing height because the older man was seated in a wheelchair. Saul might have warned her! He could have said something, then she would have been prepared! But from the first she realised just why Saul hadn't considered any explanation necessary. Frank Diamond made her forget that he was handicapped, made her oblivious of the wheelchair within minutes simply because he showed no sign of being aware of it himself. His welcome was open and unreserved and he had his son's ability to ask just the right question to draw her out. Or rather, Kara amended, surprised by the way she had phrased the thought, Saul possessed his father's knack of doing that. But in a way it was a natural mistake to make. Seeing them both together like this it was almost possible to believe that Saul was the older of the two. His face had a more sombre cast to it, unlike his father's naturally up-turning mouth and humorously sparkling eyes. As the afternoon slipped away Kara found herself responding easily to Frank and Sheila's friendly questioning. They took a genuine interest in hearing about her work and her family but it was when she mentioned her brother that Frank's eyes lit with a special excitement. 'Kevin Phillips?' he said. 'Wasn't he the schools' County Chess Champion?'
'That's right,' Kara said, surprised that he remembered. 'He won it twice. The whole family had to learn the game just to help him practise and I ended up nearly as keen as he was.' 'Do you still play?' 'That's a loaded question,' Saul put in dryly. 'You've hit on my father's main obsession and what he really means is will you play—right now.' 'I'd love to! But I might be a little rusty—I haven't had much practice since Kevin moved to Edinburgh.' 'Well, rusty or not, you must be better than me,' Sheila told her. 'I've tried to learn but really I'm lost on any but the simplest of moves.' 'And I've played Dad so often that I'd swear he knows what move I'm going to make before I do.' Saul's comment drew Kara's eyes to where he sprawled on the settee opposite her. Obviously at ease in his surroundings, the harsh lines of his face softened by a smile, his long body relaxed against the cushions, he seemed more approachable than at any point since she had met him. Even the rough denim of his shirt and jeans seemed much less at odds with Sheila's cosy living-room than it had with the elegant simplicity of her own home. For once the wild tiger seemed submerged under the lazily contented cat. But that indolent pose hid a watchful alertness where his father was concerned. Having watched him throughout the afternoon, Kara had nothing but admiration for the way Saul handled Frank Diamond's disability. He had the knack of never making the older man feel dependent, never making unnecessary offers of help so that he seemed to ignore the fact that his father was handicapped in
any way. But at the same time there were many small gestures that showed an instinctive appreciation of Frank Diamond's needs in a way that was almost telepathic and ensured that whatever the older man needed was always there, within reach, without his having to ask for it. Such understanding could only come from long experience of his father's disability, making her wonder just how long Frank had been confined to the wheelchair. 'I think it's time I made tea,' Sheila said, getting to her feet. 'No, you stay right where you are, dear,' she added with a smile, anticipating Kara's offer of help. 'If I know my husband, he's dying to get the chess set out and challenge you to a game. Besides, I'll have all the help I need from this fellow here.' Kara blinked in astonishment as she saw how, without a word, Saul had slid from his seat on the settee and now stood at Sheila's side. 'I think you've shocked Kara, Mam,' he drawled softly, the affectionate name sounding warmly in the deep voice. 'Messing about with the insides of cars and preparing meals don't quite go together in her scheme of things.' It wasn't just that her muddled feelings made her oversensitive to anything he said, there had been a hard undertone to Saul's voice, a cutting edge that told her her surprise had been noted and it had flicked that raw pride of his once more. His dark eyes were on her face, slightly narrowed, alert to every fleeting expression that crossed it. 'I didn't realise you had hidden talents,' Kara said stiffly, shifting uncomfortably under his scrutiny. She had seen that look several times before that afternoon, she realised, starting with the first swift glance at her face when the car pulled up outside the house
and again when they had entered the living-room. It had been on Saul's face in the moment she had first set eyes on his father too, a coldly appraising glance that made her feel like the defendant in the dock—but in this case she was probably being judged guilty until proven innocent. Kara's heart sank as she acknowledged privately just why Saul had brought her here. It had all been a test, he had wanted to see how she reacted, but in that secretive, hard-eyed face there was no clue as to whether she had passed or failed. 'Don't tease, Saul!' Sheila turned a gently reproving look on her stepson. 'Believe it or not, Kara,' she went on, 'Saul's pretty handy in the kitchen, and a good cook. He's had plenty of practice.' 'Not that I get much chance these days,' was Saul's laughing retort..'You're so determined to feed me up it's surprising Pm not as fat as a pig.' 'Not you!' Sheila's words were accompanied by a smiling glance at Saul's lean frame. 'You work off everything you eat—a little extra wouldn't hurt at all.' They left the room arm in arm, still continuing the gentle banter, and Kara felt a strange, lonely feeling tugging at her heart as she watched them go. Don't tease, Sheila had said, but the truth was that Saul hadn't been teasing but very serious. He might tease his stepmother but never her. A soft sigh escaped her lips at the memory of the affection that warmed Saul's voice and face when he spoke to Sheila in a way it never did for her. 'That seems like a very special relationship,' she murmured and Frank Diamond nodded smilingly.
'Sheila's always had a special place in Saul's heart,' he told her. 'In fact it was through Saul that I met her— and that's something for which I'll always be grateful. Now, what about this game?' he added persuasively. 'The chess set's in that cupboard there. Fetch it out and let's see how good you are.' 'I suppose Saul got to know Sheila when he worked for Bob Sinclair,' Kara said when the board had been set up and she had made her first move. 'That must have made it easier when you married. I mean, a lot of people would find it hard to adjust to someone replacing their real mother.' The swift change in Frank Diamond's expression brought Kara up sharp. The open, friendly face clouded, growing sombre and harsh, heightening the similarity between Frank and his son as, too late, Kara remembered that the first Mrs Diamond had left home when Saul was fourteen. 'My first wife couldn't take being tied to a cripple—her words—so she left.' Frank's words came starkly, without emotion, making Kara think that that was just how Saul would have spoken them. 'She just packed her bags one day and moved out.' Frank drew a deep breath and expelled it again on a sigh. 'Saul had had hopes of doing A-levels and going on to study engineering but my accident changed all that. Suddenly he became the man of the house. He insisted on leaving school as soon as he could and getting a job. He did everything for me too, ran the house, cooked the meals until I was able to cope better.' 'That's what Sheila meant when she said he'd had plenty of practice.' Kara spoke her thoughts out loud, her eyes fixed unseeingly on the black and white board in front of her, trying to cope with the way her conscience was tormenting her with memories.
All those years ago she and her mother had known nothing of this. The essence of the story had come to them on the grapevine of gossip, distorted by rumour and hearsay. 'So Saul went to work at the garage,' she prompted gently. 'That's right. Bob and Sheila had no children of their own and I think they saw Saul as the son they never had. He was very bitter at the time. His mother's behaviour had hurt him more than he would ever admit and—well, I'm afraid I wasn't much help. In a way our positions were reversed, I was the dependent one and Saul was supporting me. Sheila spent a lot of time with him, helping with the practical things or just talking. She's the only one he ever opens up to, he finds it hard to share his feelings with anyone else.' 'Take me as I am and I'll do the same for you.' Saul's words reverberated in Kara's head making her feel faintly dizzy. She had judged Saul to be so invulnerable but now she was forced to consider just what that harsh exterior might conceal. Sheila Diamond seemed to have got behind the barriers that Saul put between himself and the rest of the world but could anyone else? Her heart twisted as she admitted how much she wanted to break down that invisible wall and discover the real Saul behind it. 'Of course Bob's death brought Sheila and Saul closer together, both in personal terms and because of the business.' And that was another connection she hadn't made before. How did Saul feel about having Sheila as his boss? 'And in case you're wondering how we cope with that, I've no objections to a female boss.' Saul's voice came so unexpectedly from the doorway that Kara's head snapped round in shock.
How long had he been there? How much had he heard? His words came so unnervingly close to her own thoughts that Kara was almost convinced he could read her mind. 'After all, Sheila tries to boss me about at home as it is,' Saul continued. 'And, besides, she leaves most of the running of the garages to the individual managers.' A sudden movement from the man in the wheelchair drew Saul's gaze to his father's and for a moment as the two pairs of eyes, so alike, locked together Kara felt a sudden, inexplicable tension fill the room. It was almost as if, in some intuitive sort of communication, the older man had asked a question and had had it answered in the same unspoken way and it left her with the disquieting feeling that somewhere along the line she had missed something very important, though for the life of her she couldn't think what it might be. That feeling nagged at her for the rest of the evening, reinforced by an equally disquieting change in Saul's mood. The relaxed, affable man of earlier that afternoon had gone, leaving in his place an abstracted and distant stranger, one who barely gave her time to finish her meal before he was announcing that it was time to go and gently but firmly resisting Sheila's and Frank's pleas that they stay longer. He seemed like a man who had suddenly come to a decision, unwilling to delay even for a second putting it into effect. They left in a flurry of farewells, invitations to come again, and promises to do just that. 'You've lumbered yourself now,' Saul said lightly as the car leapt forward, leaving the bungalow well behind them. 'Dad'll never rest until he's had his revenge for the way you beat him at chess. You'll be round there every weekend if he gets his way.'
'I wouldn't mind, in fact I'd enjoy it,' Kara assured him. 'Just as I enjoyed this afternoon. They're both such warm, friendly people, they made me feel completely at home.' A sudden thought struck her, bringing a cloud to her face as she pursued the train of thought that followed from it. 'Do you know,' she said impulsively, 'I'd never realised before now how much my parents' house always smelt of disinfectant.' It was a complete non sequitur, bearing no relation to anything that had gone before and bringing a frown of confusion to Saul's face. But almost immediately his expression cleared again. 'You said "my parents' house", not "my home",' he said quietly. He was three jumps ahead of her! He'd taken her inconsequential remark, related it to what had gone before and come up with the right answer in the same second that she had found it for herself. He had to be telepathic—or at least very much on her wavelength— and his intuitive understanding gave her the strength she needed to go on, knowing that even though her thoughts were too muddled, too uncomfortable to express clearly he would see exactly what she meant. 'My mother was always out, always busy with her job, so she had a cleaning woman who came in every day. Rosie seemed to use gallons of disinfectant and the house always smelt like a hospital. It was so spotless I was afraid to touch anything and if we had friends round we had to take them into the playroom, nowhere else. Kevin and I had it drummed into us that Mother's job was important, that we had to help by not making a mess, and it was rather -' 'I think the word you're looking for is sterile,' Saul supplied as Kara hesitated.
She hadn't seen it that way before, but that was how it had been. Plasticine, paint, glue, paper—the normal tools of childhood play—were only allowed in strictly controlled circumstances, never to be used except in the specially designated playroom, and then only under careful supervision with newspapers to protect the floor, aprons to cover clothes, and much washing of hands before they had really finished what they were doing so that they would be clean and neat when their parents came home. And even when they were older and well past the really messy stage things hadn't been any easier. 'I don't think my friends liked coming to the house very much,' Kara said slowly. 'They were used to things being much more free and easy and Mother used to ask so many questions. She wanted to know where they lived, what their parents did—Kevin always called it the third degree and really it was just like some sort of interrogation.' A sudden sharp pain in her scalp made Kara aware of the way she was twisting her hair unmercifully and abruptly she snatched her hand away, folding the other one firmly around it to keep it in her lap. It had to be said, she told herself firmly. Better late than never. 'I'm afraid my parents were really very snobbish. They didn't consider many of our schoolmates really suitable as friends for us. Saul, I know it's much too late but -' The words died on her lips as Saul lifted a hand to silence her. 'No apologies, Kara. It's all in the past.' But the past kept intruding on the present, coming between them. 'I didn't know—I didn't understand why you had to take that job.' Kara's voice faltered on the last few words as she realised she had revealed something of what Frank had told her. Would he regard
that as an intrusion, a breach of that invisible wall of privacy he kept around himself? But Saul's only reaction was an indifferent shrug. 'Would it have made any difference if you had?' he countered swiftly. Would it? It would be easy to say that it would have altered everything—but was that really true? Wasn't the fact that it would have made a difference evidence of how prejudiced she had been? She could have accepted the idea of Saul's being forced into taking the job at the garage because of his family circumstances and in spite of his personal ambitions but she hadn't been able to accept him as just a mechanic. 'Does what I do matter so much to you?' Saul demanded suddenly, the intensity in his voice throwing Kara off balance. 'Would you prefer it if I were someone like Rod Elliott?' 'Oh, no!' The words sprang to her lips without hesitation. 'Rod had a very smooth image and I was blinded by that, but underneath it all he was pretty shallow. We only went to the places he wanted to go to, saw the people he wanted to see—and then only because he thought they might be useful contacts for his business. That image of his was pretty important to him and I think I was just part of it. I sometimes wonder if he even saw me as a person—in fact I wonder what I was doing with him at all!' One dark eyebrow lifted in frank astonishment at her admission, the swift, subtle change in Saul's expression telling her that he had sensed the hidden words behind what she had said and interpreted them correctly. Suddenly Kara found she was trembling with the shock of just what she had said. What if Saul were something else,
if the wild curls were trimmed to a sleeky conservative style, if he wore a suit, had a different job, would it change anything? The answer came back loud and clear that it wouldn't change a thing. From that first dinner date she had admired his quick, incisive mind, his ability to argue a case; she had never had any doubts about how hard he worked or how good he was at his job, and only that afternoon she had been given evidence of the fact that he was a man who was sensitive to the needs of others, a man whose concern for his father went beyond the demands of duty. She'd seen that sort of concern before, too, in the way he had handled the miserably sick Tessa on the night of her party. Jobs, clothes, background only mattered in as much as they made up the man, and Saul was so much more, than just a combination of those things. 'Take me as I am,' he had said and, as a selfish sixteenyear-old, she hadn't been able to do that, but now, at last, she could. Impulsively Kara reached out and laid her hand on Saul's arm. A gesture of caring, simply making contact, was all that she had planned, but in the second that her fingers touched the smooth warmth of his skin and she felt the hard strength of muscle in his arm, taut against the pull of the wheel, a sensation like the burning shock of an electric current ran through her nerves, sending flickers of heat through her veins. 'Saul,' she whispered through a throat that was suddenly dry and tight, 'kiss me.' The effect of her words was dramatic. Saul's hands clenched on the wheel, the long thin scar on the left one stretched very white on the taut skin, and the car veered violently for a second before he had it back under control.
'Hell and damnation, woman!' he muttered roughly. 'You pick your time!' But a moment later the car had swung to the side of the road, Saul's seat-belt was flung aside and she was pulled violently up against him as his mouth clamped down on hers so savagely that she winced in pain. That small, instinctive response changed Saul's mood abruptly. His mouth became gentle, moving sensuously over her lips so that her body glowed with pleasure as her hands slid up to tangle in the dark mane of his hair. As his kiss lengthened and deepened she felt she would burn up with the longing to be free of the confining restraints of the car and the public place, to be able to enjoy his lovemaking to the full. His hands were moving slowly over her body now, and she moaned softly, closing her eyes and pressing herself against him in mindless provocation. 'Like I said,' Saul murmured huskily. 'You pick your times, milady.' The name jarred. It was the old, ironic nickname he hadn't used for some time. It made her withdraw into herself, pulling back from him slightly and turning distressed green eyes on the hard lines of his face only inches away from her own The eyes were said to be the windows of the soul and she had come to be able to read something of Saul's thoughts in his but tonight those eyes were as dark and impenetrable as water at night. She had felt that she had come several steps nearer understanding him but the use of the cynically flippant tone made her feel that he had withdrawn from her, putting the barriers up between them once more.
Saul still held her face cupped in both his hands, the abrasive brush of his skin against its softness a source of intoxicating delight, and his voice was deep and seductive as he spoke softly. 'I'm taking you home, Kara—and you'd better do some thinking on the way.' He didn't elaborate on the statement but Kara needed no explanations. She knew only too well what it was he wanted her to think about. When they reached her house she would have to choose whether or not she was going to invite him in and that invitation came surrounded by complications and commitments that went far beyond any social impulse. Was Saul's statement an ultimatum or a request? she wondered as the car started up again. If it was the former—sleep with me or else—then he had another think coming, she told herself on a spurt of anger. She had no intention of giving in to blackmail like that— or had she? Lord, what was happening to her? What did she want? A swift glance at the man at her side gave her her answer. She wanted Saul, whatever she had to do to keep him. But an ultimatum didn't fit with the man she knew, with the man who had stuck so rigidly to the condition she had imposed on him that at times she had been almost screaming with frustration, longing for the mindless abandon that had possessed her on their first evening together, the fire that burned away all inhibitions leaving her pliant as candle-wax in his hands. After the doubts and the internal debate that filled the rest of the journey home, the final decision came so easily it was almost an anti-climax. She had left things up to fate before, she would do so now. She didn't want Saul to go, she wanted this evening with its fragile sense of a new understanding to continue, needing to see
how far it would go, what it would lead to—so she would invite him in—and the rest was in the hands of the gods. Because of Saul's puzzling decision to leave so suddenly it was still fairly early and the dusk had only just started to gather in so Kara simply switched on a single table-lamp, its soft glow giving a warm gentle effect to the room. She had a bottle of wine in the fridge and she opened it now, noting with some concern that her hands were distinctly unsteady, her pulse uneven, every sense alert to the presence of the dark figure in her living-room. . Was it the subdued light, she wondered, or had she grown accustomed to the forceful masculinity of Saul's looks so that he no longer seemed so alien, so much at odds with the pastel elegance of his surroundings? Her mind wandered briefly, recalling the evenings Rod had spent with her in the past. He had never seemed to possess such a definite presence as Saul did. His appearance, like his character, had had a bland innocuousness that made him seem almost part of the furniture and fittings. Chalk and cheese, she thought, and found the image dissatisfied her. More like milk and brandy, she amended with a wry smile, comparing the effect Saul had on her with the burning, breathtaking stimulation of the potent spirit. Her mouth was suddenly dry at the memory of the things she had said about Rod in the car. Only when she had said them had she known how much she had meant them—and the unspoken implication that she wouldn't trade her relationship with Saul for all the smooth sophistication and social standing Rod had possessed. Suddenly burning with a new confidence, a soaring sense of happiness, Kara carried the wine through to Saul. Perhaps the wine !u 1 been a mistake, Kara thought a short time later when the tingling sensation like pins and needles in her blood
began to threaten her ability to think clearly. She needed to know how she felt, needed to be able to gauge her own mood and Saul's, but the alcohol was heightening her senses, making her feel all instinct, all woman. The slide of the soft cream cotton of her blouse across her skin was like a caress, the brush of her hair like the whisper of silk against her face and neck when she moved her head, and her eyes were filled with the arresting image of the man who sprawled in the chair opposite her, his long, denim-clad legs stretched out in front of him, the powerful shoulders low on the cushions, his wine glass dangling loosely from his scarred left hand. He seemed to be in a world of his own, absorbed in some private thoughts, making her think of the preoccupied and distant mood that had led to his sudden decision to leave the bungalow earlier. 'Kara, there's something I must tell you.' 'What happened to your father?' Kara framed the question in the same second that Saul turned to her, their voices blending exactly. For a long moment he hesitated, seeming to debate which line of the conversation to follow. Then he took a deep breath and answered her question. 'He was working on a building site and he fell from some scaffolding and broke his spine. I was fourteen at the time. Two months later my mother walked out.' The echo of his father's voice was uncanny, the same deadpan, indifferent tones in almost the same words. 'But you knew that, didn't you.' His words were a statement, not a question, the dark eyes fixed on the liquid in his glass, but Kara nodded all the same. 'Yes,' she said softly. 'I knew.'
'I don't blame her.' Saul's eyes suddenly swung to Kara's face and what she saw in them made her stiffen in shock. He might have smoothed all emotion from his voice but his eyes told a different story. He wanted her to know this. He was actually sharing his past with her. 'It was hellishly hard work coping with my father— mentally and physically— she couldn't handle it.' 'But your father's a great character.' Kara spoke hesitantly, afraid of driving him back behind the barriers of silence. 'A lot of people would go under, being stuck in a wheelchair like that, but he makes you forget it's even there.' 'It wasn't always like that. For a year or more after the accident he cracked up completely. He felt he was useless, a burden to everyone, and he was desperately depressed,' What was behind that inflexionless voice? How had he felt at fourteen, fifteen with his mother gone and his father dependent on him for everything? With a jolt of shock Kara realised she had actually spoken her thoughts out loud. 'It was a pretty lonely time,' Saul said in an obvious understatement. 'Sometimes he wouldn't speak for days and when he did we fought most of the time. Some days I felt like leaving too.' 'What brought him out of it?' 'I'm sure you can answer that for yourself.' 'Sheila?' Kara hazarded, not needing his nod of agreement. 'When I started work at the garage she used to go round to the house a lot, cooked meals, that sort of thing. She was pretty tough on him at first, bullied him into pulling himself together.' Saul's
smile was slow and appreciative at the memory. 'Sheila can be very forceful when she wants to. Then when Bob died suddenly she needed us—she and Dad were hardly ever apart after that and they married just over three years ago.' 'They seem very happy together,' Kara said, recalling the warm glances, the secret shared moments of two people very much in love that had often passed between Frank and Sheila. That love permeated the atmosphere of their home, reaching out and touching even a stranger like Kara herself, drawing her into its warmth. It was all so very different from her parents' home, their genuine interest in what she did so unlike her mother's 'third degree'. 'I think you were right when you said my childhood was sterile,' she said slowly, knowing she didn't have to explain further. Saul would have followed her train of thought without a word being said. 'A career isn't everything.' Saul almost seemed to be talking to himself.' It took me a while to see that too.' Kara wanted to ask about the future he had given up, the career he had hoped for before his father's accident had changed things so cruelly, but before she could find the words she needed Saul spoke again. 'Kara, yesterday you asked where I worked.' The abrupt change of subject stunned Kara, the sudden switch to casual conversation seeming almost shocking in contrast to the openness there had been between them so that she could only manage an inarticulate murmur of response. 'I told you I worked at Fleet Road which isn't exactly -'
'Stop it!' The sound of her own voice rocked Kara's sense of reality. She didn't want to know about his job or where he worked! She A glance at Saul's suddenly watchful face, his eyes slightly narrowed as they fastened intently on her face, brought her up sharp. 'I'm sorry,' she mumbled, her tongue seeming strangely thick and clumsy. 'I didn't—go on.' But Saul did not continue with what he had been saying. Instead he leaned forward and slowly and deliberately poured himself another glass of wine. Then he relaxed back in his chair, watching her all the time, watching and waiting. 'No,' he said softly. 'You go on.' She couldn't go on. She didn't know what she wanted to say—or, rather, she did know but the words froze on her lips when she tried to form them. What had happened to her? Where was the cool, controlled woman she had believed herself to be? Gone for ever, she realised, swept away on the floodtide that was Saul Diamond. 'I don't give a damn about your job!' she declared though it wasn't really what she wanted to say. 'I don't care where you work or what you do. I may have done once but I don't any more and -' 'And -' Saul prompted quietly as she broke off in confusion. Couldn't he see? The words seemed to burn in her mind in letters of flame. She knew she had lost all colour, that her eyes were wide
and over-bright, and that none of these signs of her inner turmoil had escaped those intent dark eyes. There was no future in it! she told herself furiously, trying desperately to impose some order on her thoughts. No future, she repeated emphatically and almost cried out at the pain of loss that ripped through her at the words. But immediately a second, more determined thought followed—so there was no future but there was now and now was all she wanted. 'Tell me.' Saul's words brought her eyes to his and her heart seemed to stop as she saw the passion, the hunger of desire that burned there. Was there anything else? Some hint of something deeper? She couldn't tell, and deep down she knew she didn't care, her own feelings were too strong to be denied. As Saul lifted his glass again what was left of her control shattered. 'For God's sake, Saul,' she cried, her voice breaking unevenly. 'Put that glass down and make love to me!'
CHAPTER NINE 'MOTHER, I am not trying to put you off!' Kara glared at the receiver in her hand as if it were actually her mother. 'It's just that it's rather short notice and I don't know what I'll be doing.' 'Twenty-four hours was always enough notice before.' Mrs Phillips' voice sounded sharply at the other end of the telephone line. 'I should have thought you'd have wanted to see Kevin.' 'Of course I want to see him!' At any other time she would have been over the moon at the thought of an unexpected visit from her brother. She had missed Kevin greatly since his job had taken him to Scotland and it would be wonderful to see him again—but 'Have you got something else booked for tomorrow night?' 'N-o.' Kara was glad that her mother couldn't see her face or the colour that rose in it at the thought of what she was most likely to be doing tomorrow night— exactly what she had been doing last night, she hoped. With an effort she dragged her wandering thoughts back to the present. 'I'm sure tomorrow will be fine,' she said with more conviction than she actually felt. 'Will Dad be coming too?' 'No, he's off on some conference or other so it'll be just the three of us.' 'Four actually.' The words slipped out before Kara had time to think whether they were wise or not. 'There's someone I'd like you to meet.' Something about her voice, some intonation or expression alerted Mrs Phillips. 'Someone special?'
'Could be.' Kara tried to keep her tone noncommittal. 'I'm not sure.' Liar! her conscience reproved her as she put the receiver down a few moments later. If there was one thing she was sure of it was that. But in her mother's book 'special' meant something else. It meant love and marriage and happy ever after, words that had no place in her relationship with Saul. How would Saul react to the news that her mother was coming into town tomorrow, that she would be having dinner at Kara's house—a dinner she had just committed him to attending? It wasn't an easy question and cravenly Kara pushed it from her mind, sitting drowsily in the warmth of the sunlight of the deserted shop, letting her thoughts drift over the much more pleasant subject of the previous night. A secret, sensuous smile curved her lips and she stretched slowly with a cat-like contentment as she conjured up images of Saul, his hands caressing her, his lips trailing tender, erotic kisses over her skin, his voice whispering her name. He would spend tonight at her house. They would share a meal, lingering over it, talking slowly. They would touch hands, smile deeply into each other's eyes, and occasionally snatch swift, tantalising kisses rich with the taste of wine and the promise of pleasures to come. Perhaps tonight they would manage to sustain the mood long enough to make it .as far as her bed. They hadn't been able to do that last night. After that first second of blank silence that followed her precipitate declaration Saul had slammed his glass down on the table with a total disregard for its fragility. Then with the swift lithe movement of a hunting cat he was out of his chair and on the settee beside her, gathering her up in his arms and covering her mouth with his at once, almost as if
he was afraid she might reconsider and retract her impulsive demand. But Kara had no intention of going back on what she had said. She had made her decision and now that she had it felt so right that she wondered why she had ever hesitated before. She returned Saul's kisses unreservedly, matched caress for caress, her fingers tugging at the buttons on his shirt before his had even moved to the front of her own blouse. With soft incoherent murmurs of pleasure and longing she guided his hands and lips to the parts of her body she most wanted to feel him touch, the abrasive rasp of his palms on her tender flesh sending her head spinning into an ecstasy of burning delight. There had been no thought of protest when Saul slid to the floor, pulling her down with him, no reluctance or belated rush of modesty to inhibit her as he eased her clothes from her body until she was naked underneath him, every nerve glorying in the imprisoning weight of his hard body. This was what she had wanted and it was all that she had ever dreamed of so that when the moment of his final possession came there was none of the pain she had anticipated, only a momentary second of shock that made her close her eyes tight in confusion, and even that soon dissolved into a soaring sense of completeness such as she had never experienced in her life before. Saul hadn't expected to find she was still a virgin. She knew that from his sudden complete stillness, the hiss of his indrawn breath, and the strangely tentative touch of his fingers on her cheek. She couldn't bring herself to open her eyes then, suddenly afraid of what she might read in his face. She feared he might stop, might not take her to that release from the aching need that she sensed was now so very close. So she used her hands and lips in mute entreaty, touching him with the intuitive skill that came from an
empathic understanding of his mood and his needs until the sweet savagery of his movement told her that she had driven him beyond thought of doubt or restraint and the room, the feel of the rug at her back, the sounds of the night outside all whirled from her thoughts as. she went spiralling into a golden abyss of pleasure. She slept, drifting in a warm, glowing sea of contentment, and woke to find herself cocooned in the soft folds of the quilt from her own bed upstairs. Unknown to her, Saul must have slipped away and brought it down, covering her with it. Now he lay beside her, his cheek resting on her hair as he cradled her against his chest, her head on his shoulder. As Kara stirred languorously, luxuriating in the feeling of being held so very close, being so safe and so very satisfied with the world, his hand moved to turn her face to his, softly shadowed in the light of the single lamp. 'Kara, you should have told me.' Saul's voice was deep and slightly husky. 'I would have been more gentle if I'd known.' Very slowly Kara shook her head, her lips curving into a ridiculously wide Cheshire Cat smile, telling him without words that she hadn't needed gentleness. Her life had been too controlled, too Ordered until now. She had needed the passion he had given her and she wanted him to be in no doubt at all about that. Saul's lips brushed across hers then, lifting his dark head again, he studied her face seriously, his expression deeply thoughtful, his hands sliding down the length of her body under the quilt in a long, sweeping caress. 'Tell me—how the hell did a beautiful woman like you get to be twenty-four and still a virgin?'
'I never met the man who made me want to be anything else.' Kara's reply came breathlessly. The soft brush of his fingertips was sending a tingling current of awareness sparking through every nerve. 'Now I have I'm glad I waited.' The sound of Saul's swiftly indrawn breath sounded loud and harsh in the silent room. 'No regrets?' The question came sharply, with a hint of anxiety in his voice. Kara shook her head in firm response. 'None at all,' she assured him, writhing ecstatically as his hands moved over her thighs, arousing the sweet sense of longing once more. 'None at all,' she murmured again on a sigh of contentment as Saul's mouth came down on hers.
'Would it be possible to have some service round here?' A voice that was as familiar to her as her own broke in on her memories, recalling immediately that other occasion on which she had been caught daydreaming in just the same way. Saul had crept up on her unnoticed as he had done then but the joyful leap of her heart at the sight of him told her how very different this was. With a bright, mischievous gleam lighting her eyes she turned a politely enquiring smile in his direction. 'Certainly, sir. How can I help you? Was there something special you wanted?' An answering glint in the darkness of Saul's eyes sent a shiver of delight running through her at the thought of what he really wanted from her, but he matched her teasing easily.
'Do you stock Ferrets for Pleasure and Profit?' he offered totally deadpan, his voice as expressionless as his face. 'And would that be the 1980 edition or the new, revised version with the colour plates?' Kara shot back. Two could play at that game! 'Oh, the new edition of course. You see, it was the colour plates I particularly wanted.' Saul's reply came without hesitation. With an effort Kara managed to swallow down the bubble of laughter that rose up inside her. 'I'm afraid we sold the last copy only this morning, sir. There's been quite a rush on that title lately. I think ferrets must be the in thing.' 'Pity.' Saul looked suitably disappointed, only the faintest twitch of his wide mouth betraying the difficulty he was having in keeping his own laughter in check. 'But perhaps you have a copy of a novel I wanted.' 'And what might that be?' The Ferret Has Landed?' Saul suggested wickedly. 'Or perhaps- -' 'Oh, stop it!' Kara choked, unable to take any more. 'What did you really come in for?' 'This –' The next moment she was lifted off her feet, hauled half way over the counter and kissed thoroughly until her cheeks burned and her eyes sparkled.
'Mmm,' Saul murmured at last, releasing her reluctantly. 'Forget the books. I'll just take the manageress.' 'Saul! Behave yourself!' It was a struggle to make the reproof sound genuine. Her voice was still shaking with laughter and her mind seemed hazy and out of focus. No one would recognise the coolly efficient manageress of 'Pages' in the bright-eyed creature who stood before Saul, her golden hair tumbling in wild disorder around a glowing, contented face. She didn't even recognise herself. 'I thought I was behaving.' Saul sounded hurt. 'What other way should I behave when I greet the most beautiful woman in Melchett?' 'Flatterer!' But her heart sang at the extravagant compliment all the same. 'Now, what did you want?' 'I thought we could have lunch together.' Saul's answer came without hesitation but there seemed to have been just the faintest change in his mood, a sudden hint of distance. In fact, if she hadn't known him better, she might almost have said he was nervous. 'Lunch! But Saul, it's only just gone twelve. My lunch-break isn't till one. You know that!' Saul's shoulders lifted in a shrug, drawing her eyes irresistibly to their straight, firm lines under the close- fitting tee-shirt. Just a few hours before she had felt the strength of those muscles under her clinging hands, her fingers digging into the warm skin of his back. With an effort she dragged her mind back to the present. 'You're the boss,' Saul was saying. 'You can take time off when you want.'
'No, I can't! Saul, I have to work. With Hattie away and Tessa on leave we're short-staffed as it is.' With a sinking heart Kara saw the last traces of laughter drain from Saul's face leaving it bleak and hard. Now she'd had time to think about it, his appearance in the shop was as unusual as it was unexpected. Saul was well aware of her timetable, never before had he intruded on it in this way—and never had he asked her to choose between him and her job. A frown clouded Kara's face as she studied Saul more closely, noting a new tension in the long body, a strange, unfathomable expression on his face. He was in his usual work-clothes of black tee-shirt and faded denims but he too usually took the later lunchbreak—at least he had always done so on the occasions he had called at the shop before. So what was he doing away from the garage so early? Her uncertainty showing in her voice, she asked just that question. 'I needed a break.' Saul sounded cagey to say the least and the brown eyes didn't quite meet hers. 'Kara,' he went on more forcefully, 'I wanted to talk.' 'Saul, I can't!' Kara winced mentally at the sharpness of her voice but she had to make him see that she couldn't just jump at his command like this. 'And I can't meet you at one either. There's a rep coming this afternoon. I'll have to make do with a sandwich at my desk while I work on the order.' Something slid down over Saul's face, a look so closed and hidden that it was only when it was in place that she realised how open and unconcealed his expression had been before. She felt a sharp, stabbing sense of fear at the thought that she might have missed
something very important but the suspicion was so elusive that she couldn't pin it down. 'I'll see you tonight, then,' Saul said flatly, the lack of expression in his voice increasing her fears. What was it she had failed to pick up? Frantically Kara tried to review the conversation but could find no clue in it to help her. Already Saul was turning away. She didn't want him to go like this. ' 'Saul.' If there had been any expression on his face she might have been able to ask what was wrong, try to probe under the veneer of indifference and find what was hidden beneath it. But the hard, unapproachable mask that Saul turned towards her drained her courage and had her mumbling anything other than the questions that filled her mind. 'Before you go, there's something I wanted to ask you.' At least he had turned back though the look in his eyes wasn't encouraging and neither was his curt, discouraging, 'Well?' What had happened? What had she said? Hunting for something to say, she remembered her mother's phone call and seized on the subject thankfully. 'My mother rang me this morning.' Oh Lord, that was a mistake! Saul's memories of her mother must leave a very bitter taste in his mouth.
But her mother was coming tomorrow, it was all arranged. Feeling suddenly as if she were adrift in wild, uncharted seas, Kara floundered on. 'I haven't seen her for weeks—months really—and she's coming into town tomorrow, with Kevin. I usually invite her to dinner when she comes—and—and I'd like you to be there too.' The silence when she had finished speaking seemed to drag on interminably, Damn you, Saul, say something! She almost flung the words at his impassive face, her own uncertainty heightening her sensitivity to his lack of reaction. Since she had spoken to her mother she had been through this moment over and over in her mind but in the end it had been like none of her imaginings and she was painfully aware of the fact that she had made a complete hash of it. It would have been easy to explain away her nervousness. The past was more than enough justification for the way her stomach clenched painfully at the thought of Saul and her mother coming face to face, but there was more to it than that. It was the feeling she had experienced on the night of Hattie's party intensified one hundredfold. 'What time tomorrow?' Saul's voice seemed to come from a long way away. 'About eight.' Kara's reply came automatically as she tried to assess what his question had meant. Was he agreeing to come or not? 'I think I can manage that.' 'You—you'll come?'
Dark eyebrows lifted a fraction in surprise at her question. 'I was invited,' Saul said on a note of irony. 'Ohhh.' It was only as her breath escaped in a sigh that Kara realised how long she had been holding it in. She hadn't really expected him to agree, at least not without some argument. His easy acquiescence had stunned her. 'But -' 'I'm not afraid of your mother, Kara!' Saul snapped suddenly. 'Of course not.' Kara's fingers twisted in her hair. 'It's just -' It's just what? She couldn't really answer that. 'Formal or informal?' The question came brusquely, an odd question coming from Saul and one that intensified her own uncertainties. Perhaps the truth was that she was afraid of her mother, or at least of what she might do and the possible consequences of this meeting. 'Oh, it'll be quite easy-going—but if you've got a suit -' 'For God's sake, Kara, it's just a meal with your family, not dinner at the Ritz!' Saul exploded violently. 'I'm damn sure Kevin won't be wearing a suit.' No, but Kevin would be on home ground, completely accepted, sure of his position. Stop it! Kara reproved herself fiercely. She was over-reacting stupidly, putting far too much emphasis on this meeting altogether. Her heart plummeted right down to her toes with the knowledge that she had alienated Saul again, driving him further away from her with every word she spoke.
'Tell me,' Saul said suddenly, his eyes demanding an answer with an intensity that was echoed in his voice. 'Do you want me at this dinner tomorrow?' And that question at least was easy to answer. 'Oh yes. I want you to come very much.' But it was only when Saul had gone and the door had swung to behind him that the real answer came with a force that drove the breath from her body. She hadn't known why it was so important to her that Saul and her mother should meet, important in a way far beyond the need to heal the rift of the past, but now she saw that it was for the simplest, most natural, most human reason of all. Didn't every girl feel like this when her family was to meet the man she loved?
CHAPTER TEN CONSIDERING how her ears had been straining for the sound of a car drawing up outside the house, it was surprising how completely Kara had missed hearing it so that the first warning she had of Saul's arrival was Kevin's voice in the hall, continuing a conversation he had obviously started in the street outside on his return from a trip to the off licence where he had gone to buy the wine for their meal that evening. '... I envy you,' her brother was saying. 'I'd sell my soul to own a car like that.' 'Well, let me have your address, then if we get one in that's for sale I can let you know.' Saul's voice drifted through the open livingroom door and at the sound of the familiar deep tones Kara faltered in her own conversation with her mother, her stomach twisting into knots of tension inside her. She had seen nothing of Saul since their uneasy meeting the day before. He had rung her just as she was locking up for the night to say that he was swamped with work and wouldn't be able to see her that night and it was more than likely that he would have to work through the next day, not getting away until late. 'But what about dinner?' Kara had protested, unable to conceal the note of reproach in her voice, and the curt impatience in Saul's answering tones showed only too clearly that he had caught the sharp undertone. 'I'll be there, Kara—I just can't say when. If I can make it for eight then I will but I'm making no promises.' And Kara had been forced to accept that unsatisfactory arrangement. She had put back the meal by half an hour or so in
the vain hope that Saul might arrive on time and then had tried to fill the long, nerve- racking time of waiting with trivial chatter, endeavouring to avoid her mother's undisguised curiosity and distinctly probing questions about the expected visitor. But now Saul was here, much sooner than she had expected. The meeting could not be put off any longer and she found herself quite unprepared for it and at a loss as to how to react. 'I met this fellow outside,' Kevin announced as he came into the room, oblivious to, or deliberately ignoring his sister's tense face. In a snatched moment of private conversation Kara had confided the truth of Saul's identity to Kevin, knowing that, of all her family, he was the only one who would accept that information without prejudice or preconception, and now he ushered Saul into the room with an easy friendliness that contrasted sharply with her own inner turmoil of conflicting emotions. Thrown off balance by Saul's unexpected arrival, her over-strung nerves warring with the swift leap of her heart simply at seeing him, Kara couldn't think beyond a sense of irritated shock at the way it had all happened too fast, and unthinkingly she froze Saul's smile of greeting with a flash of her green eyes. 'I thought you said you wouldn't be able to get here till after eight.' 'The work didn't take as long as I expected,' was the equable response, but Saul's brown eyes had hardened and a new tightness firmed the long, unsmiling mouth. His gaze moved from her face, sliding past her to where her mother sat, leaving Kara no alternative but to make the introduction she had been dreading. The fact that he had subtly forced her hand did nothing to ease her nerves which were already stretched so tight she, thought they might actually snap.
'Mother, I'd like you to meet Saul Diamond,' she managed with stumbling, awkward formality, painfully aware of the swift flick of a glance from those dark, searching eyes that registered her unease even in the moment that Saul turned towards her mother. He did not, Kara noticed, her heart sinking, offer her his hand in greeting. 'Mr Diamond.' Alison Phillips' expression was a polite blank, no recognition showing on her face. Could she have forgotten? Was it possible she didn't remember the way the youth she had described as a good-for-nothing lout had defied her, flinging her prejudices in her face, and finally, in that hateful kiss, turned the tables on her completely declaring that the daughter she had thought too good for him was in fact not good enough? It didn't seem possible, but cravenly Kara allowed the hope to creep into her mind only to have it destroyed immediately by a sudden swift frown. 'Have we met before?' 'Oh yes,' Saul said calmly, ignoring the silent warning to go carefully that Kara was trying to transmit with her eyes. 'Eight years ago—I worked at Sinclair's Garage then.' 'Sinclair's Garage?' With a sickening lurch of her stomach Kara saw her mother's face change, the politely interested expression freezing on her face, changing to a cold withdrawal. 'That Saul Diamond?' 'That Saul Diamond,' Saul confirmed equally coolly. Saul, no! This isn't the way to handle her! Feeling suddenly as if she had stepped back in time, becoming once more her sixteenyear-old self, Kara turned to Saul, wanting to speak yet not knowing what to say, feeling only that she wanted to distract him
from this course that she was sure could only lead to an even more traumatic confrontation than the one in the garage all those years ago. But Saul's face was closed against her, his eyes hooded, blocking any attempt to read his thoughts in them, and the words died unformed in her throat. Biting her lips hard she stood silently, her eyes going from Saul's set, hard face to her mother's stiffly proud one and back again. The way she stood, exactly half way between the two of them, seemed to symbolise her position exactly. What would She do if it came to a choice between her mother and Saul, the man she had so recently realised she had come to love? Could she make that choice, rejecting one in favour of the other as it now seemed she might have to? 'I believe I made my opinion of you quite plain eight years ago,' Mrs Phillips said at last, her voice high and taut. 'Very plain.' Not a hint of emotion showed in Saul's tone. 'Saul -' Kara tried to intervene but a light touch on her arm reminded her of Kevin's silent presence at her side as with a shake of his head he warned her not to speak. 'Then you'll realise that I would positively prefer not to spend this evening in your company,' Mrs Phillips said and, surprisingly, Saul smiled but it was not a smile that made Kara feel any happier. In fact it had quite the opposite effect, making her stomach twist in panic when she saw how it failed to light his eyes at all. 'On the contrary, Mrs Phillips,' he said smoothly, 'I think that would be a very negative move on your part. As a businesswoman, surely you must agree that it would be very bad policy to make a decision based on facts that are over eight years old.'
Mrs Phillips' face was tight under her mask of makeup, her eyes, slightly widened, fixed on the man before her, and Kara followed the direction of her gaze, trying to see Saul as her mother was seeing him. No suit, she noted automatically, but then she had never really expected that of him—or a tie either, come to that. He was wearing a grey and white striped short- sleeved shirt with a pair of darker grey cords, the soft velvet texture of the material in devastating contrast to the hard strength of the muscles beneath it, making Kara's throat suddenly painfully dry so that she had to swallow to relieve it. Never before had those rakish, gipsyish looks of Saul's affected her so strongly and, strangely, it was her mother, her neat blue dress much more in keeping with her surroundings, who looked out of place. It was that feeling that brought home to her that the decision she had feared earlier was no decision at all, or, rather, one she had already made. She had left her mother's world and its prejudices behind her, her loyalty now lay with the man she loved. Without quite realising she had moved she found she was standing much closer to Saul, no longer half way between him and her mother. Saul, however, didn't appear to notice the tiny movement, his dark eyes were hard on her mother's face. 'I don't take back anything I said eight years ago,' Mrs Phillips said stiffly, and Saul's wide mouth twisted slightly. 'I didn't expect you would,' he murmured drily. 'But eight years is a long time, people change. I came here tonight prepared to start again, to meet you without prejudice or preconception, whatever might have happened in the past. Surely you can allow me the same courtesy?'
Mrs Phillips' nod was very slight but it was there. Beside Kara, Kevin pursed his lips in a silent whistle of triumph and Kara felt her breath which she had been unaware of holding in escape in a long, soundless sigh. Limp with relief, she admitted she was wrong. Saul's frontal attack, bringing the past out into the open, had brought her mother up sharp, showing he had nothing to hide, nothing he was ashamed of, while the policy she had wanted to adopt, that of trying to avoid any confrontation, might have given exactly the opposite impression. 'I think it's time we all had a drink,' Kevin announced, breaking into the silence. 'Sherry, Mother? And what for you, Saul?' And within seconds the intensity of the moment was defused as he filled and handed round glasses, launching into an enthusiastic spate of questions about Saul's car while Kara seized thankfully on the opportunity to sink into a chair and withdraw temporarily, watching and assessing until she felt more sure of the ground that for a time had been swept from under her feet. There was nothing to be gained from studying her mother's face. Mrs Phillips was an expert at concealing what she was really thinking, her features carefully schooled into the polite, listening expression that revealed nothing of what was in her mind. A stiffness about the way she sat, her back very straight, her head held rather high, betrayed her unease to anyone who knew her as well as her daughter did, but whether that unease was the result of embarrassment or anger Kara had no way of knowing. Saul was well aware of Kara's own mood, she knew that from the swift, searching glance that flicked over her face even as he continued his conversation with Kevin with apparent attentiveness, and she tried to assume a mask of indifference every bit as controlled as her mother's to hide her confusion from those dark, prying eyes. Surreptitiously her glance slid to her watch. It was
almost eight. Any minute now, her mother who, even in her daughter's house, could never resist the temptation to take charge, would disappear into the kitchen to check on the meal and with luck she might be able to snatch a few minutes alone with Saul. I love you, Saul. Silently her tongue tasted the words, words she had never spoken to any man in her life before, but now she wanted to say them so much, her love confirmed and enhanced by the respect she felt for the way he had handled the difficult, tense situation that had greeted him on his arrival. Just as she had anticipated, Mrs Phillips soon excused herself and Kevin, laughingly declaring his own presence definitely superfluous, had left the room too, ostensibly to open the wine, and Kara found herself alone with Saul as she had wanted. But when Saul turned to her his expression was hard and distant, dangerously so. 'Out with it, Kara,' he ordered as soon as Kevin had gone, his voice taut and cold. 'With what?' Kara managed awkwardly and received a reproving frown for her obvious procrastination. 'With whatever it is that's bugging you. You've been like a cat on hot bricks ever since I came into the room. What is it? You're not still harping on the idea that I should have worn a suit, are you?' 'Of course not!' 'Then what is it?' The cold edge to Saul's voice made her stomach lurch sickeningly. 'Can't you accept that I handled this on my own? Does it rile you to think that a mere mechanic could cope with your mother without your help?'
'Now you're being ridiculous!' Tension pitched Kara's voice much higher than usual. 'Am I?' The brown eyes that locked with Kara's green ones were deep and icily dark, not a hint of warmth lighting them. 'Am I?' Saul repeated ominously. 'If I'm being so ridiculous, milady, then why were you uptight as hell when I took things out of your hands? It was written all over your face. Didn't you want to cover for me, smooth over any blunders I made, explain or apologise where necessary?' The bite of his sarcasm caught Kara on the raw, all the more so because his words came perilously close to the truth. She had been afraid that his approach was wrong—but not any more. 'No, I didn't!' she stormed. 'It wasn't like that at all! I just wanted— it was because -' 'Because -' Saul prompted harshly as words failed her. Because I love you. Just four simple words, so easy to say, but she couldn't say them now, not to a man who looked so violently angry that it seemed the savagery of his glare would shrivel her into dust where she sat. Unable to meet that burning gaze, she let her eyes slide away from his and forced her lips to form other words than the ones that seemed etched on to them. 'Because I wasn't sure what you might say.' She heard Saul's breath hiss between his teeth and out of the corner of her eye saw him push both his hands into his thick curls, then abruptly he pushed himself up from the settee, swinging violently away from her. For a moment Kara thought he was actually going to leave, walk out of the room without a backward glance, and a cry of protest leapt in her throat, but slowly he turned back again,
his hands resting on the back of the settee, hard brown fingers digging into the pale grey covering. 'For God's sake, Kara, what the hell did you think I'd say? "Good evening Mrs Phillips, remember me? I'm the yob you didn't think was good enough to touch your daughter but I've got the last laugh now. Not only am I sleeping with your precious Kara but I'm going to dine with you tonight whether you like it or not"? Hell and damnation, Blondie! Just what do you think I am?' 'I—didn't expect you to—go straight to the point like that.' 'It happened,' Saul snapped in a tone that turned Kara's blood to ice. 'I couldn't see any point in dancing round it. Your mother was as embarrassed as hell when I appeared. You hadn't told her that I was the man you'd invited, had you? No.' He answered his own question, not needing Kara's silent shake of the head. 'It was obvious you hadn't—she looked as if the devil himself had suddenly come into the room.' And right now Kara thought she knew exactly how that had felt. 'Does that matter?' she asked, hiding her despair at the way the conversation was going behind an assumed tartness. 'It matters,' Saul confirmed tersely. 'It matters like hell.' 'I don't quite see why.' Tension stiffened Kara's spine, giving an arrogant tilt to her head as she met his eyes. 'Damn you, Kara, you're not that blind! If you weren't ashamed of our relationship you'd have told her weeks ago and be damned to what she thought. Instead you hide it from her, waiting until the very last minute, when it's forced on you.'
'That's not true!' But once more his words had come dangerously close to the truth. 'I'm not ashamed. If I were do you think you'd be here now? Why do you think I wanted you here tonight?' The anger faded suddenly from Saul's face. 'I've been wondering that myself,' he said slowly. 'And so far I haven't been able to come up with an answer.' 'Saul -' Kara began but broke off as the door swung open. 'Mother says the bell on the timer's just gone,' Kevin said. 'She wants to know what she's supposed to do with the chicken.' And Kara had no alternative but to leave those all-important words unspoken once more as, belatedly remembering her position as hostess, she hurried from the room. 'I hope you know what you're doing.' Mrs Phillips' words coincided with the moment that Kara opened the oven door to check on the chicken so that for a moment she thought they referred to her cooking and almost uttered an impatient 'Don't be silly—I've cooked this dozens of times,' before she realised that her mother meant something else entirely. 'And what do you mean by that?' she asked, straightening up slowly. Mrs Phillips' movements were excessively precise as she placed the avocado pears she had prepared in the waiting dishes. 'I think you know what I mean, Kara,' she said coldly. 'Saul Diamond is not a new phenomenon. You know how I feel about his type.' She should have expected this, Kara thought. Her mother was unlikely to give in without a fight.
'I don't think you know his "type",' she said carefully. 'I know how you felt about him eight years ago but even then you were wrong. You listened to too much gossip, Mother. You should have found out the truth before you condemned Saul—just as you should now.' 'I don't believe gossip has anything to do with this. Saul Diamond was nothing but a garage mechanic -' 'He still is,' Kara cut in sharply. 'He's a garage mechanic, Mother.' She spoke slowly and clearly, knowing from her mother's expression that Mrs Phillip hadn't missed her deliberate omission of those two derogatory words. 'I see nothing to be ashamed of in that.' 'But Kara, you could do so much better for yourself. You're an intelligent girl, you run your own business. What about that nice fellow Rod? Surely he -' 'I don't want Rod!' She had almost said 'I don't love Rod!' but caught herself just in time. She hadn't even told Saul yet, and she wasn't going to waste the first special time of declaring her love on her mother's disapproving ears. Anger burned in her heart at the disdainful expression on Mrs Phillips' face, intensifying at the thought that she had once accepted her mother's opinion as true but she knew so much better now. 'Saul is my friend, Mother, and this is my house. If you can't bring yourself to be polite to him then I suggest you leave now.' 'Kara!' Mrs Phillips face had whitened at her daughter's tone. 'You -' 'I mean it,' Kara said firmly. 'For your own sake, don't ask me to choose between you because I don't think you'd like my decision.'
In the silence that followed her ultimatum, Kara sensed a slight movement in the hall at her back. Kevin probably, coming to see what was holding up the meal and tactfully withdrawing when he realised he had blundered into an argument. 'You sound very sure,' Mrs Phillips said at last, the cold certainty erased from her voice. 'I am,' Kara told her simply. 'Is this meal ever going to be ready?' Kevin's plaintive call interrupted the conversation. 'I'm starving!' 'Just coming.' Kara picked up the tray with the avocado dishes on it. 'I meant what I said,' she added to her mother on the way out. 'Saul is very special to, me. Don't force me to choose between you.' It was only as she set the dishes out on the table and heard Kevin's heavy footsteps descending the stairs that Kara realised that he had been upstairs all this time. So it couldn't have been her brother who had come into the hall only moments earlier—and that left only one person who it could possibly have been, which was not a realisation that made for a peaceful mind. *** 'Are you still with Sinclair Garages, Mr Diamond?' Surprisingly it was Mrs Phillips who asked the question, making her first direct conversation with Saul, and with a pang of apprehension Kara recognised the tone, the deceptively innocent opening. Her mother had started the second round, this was the beginning of the series of probing questions that Kevin had laughingly termed the 'third degree'.
'Yes, I am,' Saul's response came politely. 'I've worked there for thirteen years now.' 'Thirteen years is a long time. Have you never thought of going anywhere else?' 'I've had offers, but I preferred to stay where I was.' 'But of course it's a much larger concern now than it was—I believe it's almost trebled in size? I assume it can offer you much better prospects than ever before?' 'That's true,' Saul said quietly. 'But it's not why I stayed. Bob Sinclair gave me a start when jobs were hard to come by so my loyalty has always been given to his firm, no matter how successful or otherwise it was.' Across the table Kara's and Kevin's eyes met in a moment of sharing, recalling memories of so many similar situations with other friends, and to her surprise Kara saw that her brother was grinning widely as if he got some secret enjoyment out of what was happening, and he lowered one eyelid in a slow and deliberate wink of triumph. Puzzled, she frowned, her eyes asking a silent question, but Kevin only grinned even more and, nodding, directed her attention back to the interplay between Saul and her mother. Other friends, in the past, had become flustered or aggressive under the deliberate interrogation, but Saul did neither. Kara listened to his deep voice forming courteous answers to the questions asked of him, often directing queries of his own back at Mrs Phillips without hesitation or antagonism. He was unfailingly polite but never made any concessions. If he disagreed he said so, giving clear, concise reasons for his point of view. Kara noticed that on more than one occasion he carefully defused the situation, letting the heat out of the conversation when it threatened to
become an argument by changing the topic and setting off on a new tack. It was like a subtle game of verbal chess between two equally matched opponents, Kara thought, as very very slowly she sensed some of the restraint and tension seeping away. Only someone as well attuned to her mother's moods as a daughter would have seen the tiny glimmer of something approaching respect in Mrs Phillips' eyes but Kara caught it and allowed herself a secret smile at the thought that the force of Saul's personality and the clarity of his mind had begun to win her over. 'I hate to say I told you so—but I did,' Kevin declared, coming into the kitchen with a pile of dirty plates which he deposited on the worktop next to the tray that Kara was setting with coffee-cups and saucers. 'And I was right, wasn't I?' 'You did tell me,' Kara said softly, a wave of guilt sweeping through her. Of all her family, Kevin was the only one who had seen Saul clearly from the first. He had made no comment when she had told him of her involvement with the man he had defended all those years ago, offered no word of reproach for her behaviour then, much as she deserved it. Instead he had said, quite simply and sincerely, 'I'm glad for you, Karrie—and if you're worrying about Mother, don't. Saul can handle her, in fact from what I heard he rather got the better of her the last time.' 'But I should have seen it for myself, Kev—and not just this time, I should have seen it eight years ago too.' 'You were just a kid,' Kevin said tolerantly. 'And Mother's a very forceful lady when she's made up her mind about something—no, hang on.' He put a hand over Kara's as she was about to pick up the tray. 'Give them a minute or two, they won't eat each other alive if
we're not there to act as umpire—and I want to talk to you. It's not every day my kid sister falls in love.' Wide and bright with shock, Kara's eyes flew to Kevin's face. 'Is it so obvious?' 'To someone who's known you for twenty-four years, yes.' Kevin grinned. 'And I'm glad it's Saul you've fallen for, not that wimp Elliott you were seeing before. Saul's got a lot going for him, but be warned, Karrie, you'll have to run pretty fast to keep up with him. He hasn't stood still since he left school and I doubt if he's any intention of slowing down now.' Saul? Kara's lips formed the words but no sound came out. Kevin's words implied a high-flyer, someone who was going places—but Saul had never admitted to a desire to do anything other than continue working for his stepmother. Kevin hadn't noticed her incredulous response, he was laughing, his eyes bright with some secret joke. 'You've got to hand it to him, Karrie, he knows just the way to manage Mother. I thought he might tell her when she started asking questions about the garage— but of course that would only have reinforced her snobbish assumptions.' Tell her what? Kara almost wanted to scream but, oblivious to her bewilderment, Kevin seemed to think she knew already and was sharing the joke. 'It would have changed her attitude all right, but not the way Saul wanted it changing. I can see what he's doing, he'll wait, win her round, slowly, to the man she thinks he is and then he'll let her find out that he owns Sinclair Garages.'
With a harsh choking sound in her throat Kara flung herself away from Kevin, swinging round to stare blankly at the opposite wall, her mouth clamped tightly shut on the cry of shock and pain that had almost escaped her. She couldn't believe it, didn't want to believe it because it meant Saul had been deceiving her. But there was evidence she couldn't deny—Saul's easy friendship with Terry Anderson, the accountant for the chain of garages— Sheila's accountant, she had believed—that strange, questioning look that had passed between Frank Diamond and his son when Saul had spoken of Sheila's involvement in the running of the garages, and last and most revealing of all, the white diamond emblazoned on the van that had been parked in Wendover Crescent on the day she had first met Saul. He had been working on Terry Anderson's car that day, on his accountant's car, not Sheila's. 'Karrie?' Kevin voice was concerned. With a supreme effort Kara turned back to him, every muscle in her face rigidly controlled. 'I'm all right,' she managed shakily. 'I just caught my hand on the percolator.' 'You still look a bit green,' Kevin agreed unflatteringly. 'Perhaps I'd better have a look at it.' There's no need.' Kara pushed her unmarked hand deep into her pocket. 'You take the coffee through into the living-room and I'll run some cold water on it. That's supposed to be the best thing for bums.' She did move to the sink and turn on the tap when Kevin had gone, but only so that the sound of running water would give credence to her story of an injured hand. With her fingers grasping the edge of
the sink until her knuckles showed white she stared at the cascading water with unseeing eyes. Saul had deceived her, lied to her, deliberately hiding from her the fact that he was not just the mechanic he claimed to be, and the burning pain of that deception seared at her heart in a way that all the water in the world could not ease. It was like sitting behind a sheet of plate glass, able to see everything in the room before her and yet not being part of it. Kara sat in her chair, limp as a puppet that has had its strings cut. Every now and then she lifted her cup mechanically to her lips but could never manage the act of swallowing any coffee. Was it only two days since she had had Saul's arms around her, felt his lips on hers? It seemed as if an eternity had passed since they had made love here in this very room—Kara almost choked on her coffee at the thought. She ached with longing for Saul's touch, needing that mindless oblivion of passion that would heal the aching void where her heart would be, but almost immediately knew she was only deceiving herself. That passion had been built on trust, Saul's lies had destroyed that too and it was as if that love and longing had been for another man entirely. When she looked across at Saul her mind blurred like a film going out of focus. With bitter irony she acknowledged that, without those few minutes' conversation with Kevin, she would now be feeling completely different. The evening had gone better than she had ever dreamed, her mother had even unbent so far as to address Saul by his name instead of the strictly formal 'Mr Diamond' she had stuck to rigidly through the first half of the meal. But the' easier atmosphere only brought home to her how much she had been deceived. Looking at Saul, she saw not the wild untamed pirate but an assured and confident man who looked like Saul and yet was a stranger.
Kara was grateful that Saul's attention was monopolised by Kevin, both of them deep in a discussion on motor-bikes. She didn't know how she would react if he spoke to her again. When she had finally gathered the strength to reenter the livingroom, Saul had come to her side as she poured coffee with a fierce determination not to show how much she was shaking. 'Kevin tells me you hurt your hand,' he said quietly. 'Are you okay?' 'I'm fine.' The whirling haze in her head distorted the words in her ears, making them sound like the mechanical tones a computer might utter. 'It hurt like hell for a moment but -' She broke off abruptly, knowing she wasn't talking of the imaginary injury to her hand. Blinded by tears she refused to shed she thrust a cup at him. 'Give that to Mother,' she muttered thickly. But the cup was ignored as those observant brown eyes rested on the unmarked skin of the hand that held it. 'What is it?' Saul asked sharply, his voice pitched so that it didn't carry across the room to where Kevin and her mother sat. 'Blondie, what's wrong?' 'Nothing!' Kara hissed at him in desperation. 'I'm all right! Don't fuss!' Miserably she watched the concern fade from his eyes, saw the muscles of his face tighten. Then he had taken the cup and turned away, slipping back into the social mood of the evening without any apparent effort, and whenever their eyes had met after that his expression had been as enigmatic as some secret code to which no
one had given her the key, his dark gaze filled with a brooding thoughtfulness that set her nerves jangling with uncertainty that bordered on fear. But now at last her mother and Kevin were making preparations to leave and Kara went through the motions of collecting coats, saying farewells like an automaton, refusing to let herself think of the time when Kevin's car drove away and she and. Saul would be alone. Earlier, her mind had leapt ahead to this moment, imagining that Saul would let the car get perhaps a hundred yards down the street before he turned and pulled her into his arms. With a shiver of anticipation she had dreamed of putting into words the love she had hugged to herself like a delicious secret for the past twentyfour hours. I love you, Saul. The words tasted dry and stale now, the joy of them soured by the taint of Saul's deceit. It was as she moved to close the door after waving goodbye that Saul's hand came out to stop her and she heard his gruffly muttered, 'I need a walk.' 'Now?' Kara questioned incredulously but she was talking to thin air. Already Saul had set off down the road, his long strides covering the ground so swiftly that she had to break into a run to catch him up. But it wasn't just the forced increase of pace that set Kara's heart thumping unevenly. The hard, unapproachable set to Saul's face, the way his hands were pushed deep into his trouser pockets, the uncompromisingly aggressive hunch to his shoulders, all were expressive evidence of the way his mood had changed from the affable social ease he had displayed earlier to something darker and much more dangerous.
'Saul—wait!' Kara called breathlessly as she tried to match her pace to his. 'What is it? What's wrong?' He didn't answer, keeping his face stubbornly turned straight ahead without even a glance in her direction and, realising now that he had made no suggestion that she even accompany him, Kara slowed abruptly, feeling a touch of ice enclose her heart. She felt physically cold too, chilled through in the light but penetrating drizzle that had started to fall, though Saul appeared quite indifferent to the rain in spite of the fact that he wore no jacket over his short- sleeved shirt. Jerkily she hurried forward again, the movement warming her slightly though nothing could ease the shivering sense of dread that froze her blood. At the end of the road Saul stopped suddenly, his head thrown back, his face illuminated harshly by the yellow glow of a street lamp. As Kara reached him she saw him close his eyes briefly as he expelled his breath in a ragged, uneven sigh. 'God!' he muttered hoarsely, his words clearly intended for no one but himself. 'I can't keep up this pretence any longer.' Which was so shocking that it had her taking a step backwards, her eyes searching Saul's face for some clue to the thoughts behind that cryptic comment, hoping against hope to find something other than the one thing she dreaded hearing from Saul himself. He looked tired, she realised, his face tightly drawn in the lurid light of the lamp—but there was more to it than that. He had an aura of remoteness about him, an overpowering sense of isolation that made Kara suddenly realise that being just inches apart could sometimes be more devastating than being at the opposite ends of the earth.
'Pretence?' she questioned hesitantly even though she knew she hadn't been meant to hear. 'What pretence? Do you mean tonight— with my mother?' Who was just as much deceived as I was, she wanted to cry but swallowed the words down with an effort. 'Not your mother,' Saul said curtly. And not Kevin, which left only Kara herself—and the truth she didn't want to know. 'I—I don't understand.' She floundered over the words as if they were formed in thick, sticky treacle in her mouth. 'No, you don't understand.' Saul's voice was very low, filled with a dark bitterness that tore at Kara's heart. 'How can you understand? Hell and damnation, Kara, you don't even know me!' 'No, I don't, do I?' Kevin's words rang in Kara's head, pounding in her brain. 'You're damn right I don't know you—but whose fault is that? You won't let me know you!' That stopped him dead, his head going back sharply as if she had slapped him hard as he drew in his breath with a hiss. Her tiny, ineffectual little arrow had struck home more sharply than she had realised. 'Did you mean what you said to your mother?' Saul asked suddenly, stunning her with the swift change of subject. Caught off balance, she lost her precarious grip on her self-control. 'So it was you! You had no right to spy on me like that! My private life is my own affair—you don't own me!'
Something changed in Saul's face like a door banging closed, shutting her out, and when he spoke each word came out cold and hard as if formed in ice. 'Not spying, milady.' Kara flinched at the sound of the cynical name. 'I overheard the conversation by accident and I -' He bit off what he had been about to say, lifting an impatient hand to push a straying curl back from his forehead. 'Kara, this relationship is a big mistake -' 'A mistake!' Kara echoed hollowly. 'But you said -' 'I know damn well what I said!' Saul snarled. 'An affair that lasted as long as we were both getting what we wanted from it.' 'No commitment, no strings,' Kara whispered. Had he guessed then? Had she given herself away by the things she had said to her mother so that now he wanted to end their relationship because it was not the light-hearted, purely sexual affair he had thought it would be? 'That's what we agreed.' There was an odd note in Saul's voice. 'And you're not getting -' Kara couldn't finish the sentence. 'No, I'm not.' Saul's eyes were as hard and unyielding as his voice. 'No!' It was a cry of pain and shock. 'Saul, please -' A savage expletive broke in on her words, silencing her as Saul launched a violent kick at the ground, sending specks of gravel ricocheting across the road and make Kara shrink away in fear. The dark fire that burned in Saul's eyes destroyed what was left of her pride. 'Don't do this to me, Saul,' she begged. 'Don't you know I don't care who you are or what you are— because—because I love you.'
It almost killed her to say the words like this, in pain and desperation, not in the quiet warmth she had dreamed of. Saul's hands closed on her arms in a fierce bruising grip, dragging her round to face him. 'Who do you love?' he demanded. 'I told you, you don't even know me so how the hell can you tell me you love me?' And that was like a blow in her face, stunning her so that she could only stand and stare. She had wanted to tell him she loved him, that he was all she'd ever wanted, all she'd ever needed—but the man who had made her feel like that was someone else, another Saul. 'Kara -' Saul said but the effort it cost him simply to speak her name tore into her like a white-hot knife so that she launched into an explosion of anger to cover the anguish inside. 'Leave me alone! You said you weren't getting what you wanted, well neither am I!' She wasn't getting the truth, wasn't getting the Saul she thought she had known. 'So it's better we end it right here and now -' 'If that's what you want—goodbye, Kara.' She hadn't expected it to come like that, steely cold and sharp as a surgeon's knife, and like the man who has a leg amputated and yet can still feel his toes, she couldn't believe the blow had actually fallen. She reached out a hand to grasp Saul's arm, to hold him, touch him one last time, but her fingers closed over empty air. Saul was already well away from her, each stride increasing the distance between them as he marched back up the road, leaving her staring hopelessly after him. Despondently she forced herself to follow him, the sudden weakness in her legs making her
progress slow and difficult, knowing she hadn't a hope of catching him up. She was still some yards from her gate when she heard the roar of a car's engine and moments later the MG swept past her, driven at a furious speed, and disappeared into the night.
CHAPTER ELEVEN KARA heaved a sigh of relief as she sank down on to the nearest chair and kicked off her shoes. Really, they were just a little too tight and they had been pinching her unmercifully all night. In fact the whole evening had been a trial from start to finish. Normally she enjoyed publicity activities such as the children's evening she had just attended, but tonight it had been an effort to concentrate, her thoughts constantly drifting to more personal concerns, and it had been with a sense of release that she had seen the crawling hands of the clock finally point to eight o'clock and had been able to call a halt to the proceedings. Even when everyone had gone it had taken over an hour to clear up and leave the shop ready for normal business the next day so that now, with aching feet and an equally painful head, all she wanted to do was to sink into bed. Yawning, Kara stretched tiredly. The movement rumpled her green linen suit but she regarded the creases in the fine fabric with indifference, finding it hard to have the energy even to care. Her face clouded as she recalled how strange it had felt to put on the smartly tailored outfit earlier that evening and pin up her hair in the style Saul had so disliked. Saul. A small choking cry escaped her at the sound of his name inside her head, and she twisted in her seat, reaching for the telephone pad on which she had written the number of the Fleet Road branch of Sinclair Garages. The day she had put it there seemed a lifetime or more ago. Kara stared at it for a long moment, biting her lip hard as she struggled against the temptation to pick up the phone. When she had written the number on the pad she had told herself that she would respect Saul's need for privacy. The
number would only be used in an emergency, she had vowed— and this wasn't any such thing. Or was it? Surely it could be termed an emergency to know that you were slowly dying inside and the only person who could help you could be reached simply by picking up the receiver and dialling a number. It had been nearly a week since she had seen Saul, six days and not a word from him. Realising that her hand had curled around the receiver, Kara snatched it back hastily. No! she told herself. No! No! No! She couldn't go crawling after him like some weak-willed idiot. He had told her it was over, had shown her by his silence that he wanted nothing more to do with her, and besides, she added rational argument to the emotional one, it was very late, she doubted if he would still be at work now, even allowing for overtime. If she wanted to speak to him it would have to be during work hours. If she wanted to speak to him! Kara almost laughed her bitterness aloud. She wanted nothing in the world more than to speak to Saul again but he had cut himself off from her completely. If she hadn't hesitated, if she had spoken the words 'I love you' aloud in the moment she had first known them to be true, would things have been any different? But how could it have been any different? Those dreams and hopes were just blind delusions. She could have said she loved Saul a hundred times and it would have changed nothing because she would have been saying them to a man who didn't exist, a man created from her own needs, built on the lies Saul had told her. And if he had told her the truth, what then? Could she ever have come to love the real Saul, the one he had so carefully hidden from her? She had had no time to find out how she might feel about him.
She could understand now why Saul had acted as he had. She had fed him the idea in the first place with her automatic assumption that he was still just a mechanic working for Bob Sinclair. Her arrogant behaviour, so reminiscent of her sixteen-year-old self, must have angered him, provoking him into letting her believe just that, his hard pride refusing to let him explain. And so he had used her, his one aim being to get her into his bed, and once he had achieved that aim he had cast her off without a second thought. Kara frowned, something about that didn't ring true. She could have sworn that, until the night of her dinner party, Saul had had no intention of breaking off the relationship—or was that just more self-deception? She couldn't think straight, her head was pounding and she rubbed her temples to ease the ache. Perhaps it was the confined style in which she wore her hair that was causing the trouble. It was surprising how used she had grown to having her hair free so that the more formal style felt tight and uncomfortable. She had just removed the last pin from the gleaming coil when the doorbell rang. For a moment she was tempted not to answer it. The last thing she wanted was company tonight. But whoever it was would have seen that her light was on— the sound of a key being turned in the lock had her on her feet in a rush, her heart thumping painfully, because there was only one person who had the key to her home. Kara reached the hall in the same second that Saul pushed open the front door and stepped over the threshold. For a long, silent moment she simply stared, joy, disbelief, and anger warring in her for supremacy. In the end, rationally at least, anger, or simply a strong sense of self-preservation, won. Love him or not, he had stormed out of her life without a word of explanation, and now he was back again in just the same way. She owed it to herself to keep her distance.
'What the hell are you doing here?' she snapped, frankly amazed at her own schizophrenic ability to inject a cold disdain into her tone when her heart was soaring just at the sight of him. But as Saul moved forward into the light her mind froze and then did a swift double-take as she blinked in astonished incredulity. Saul—but not Saul—the familiar casual clothes replaced by a well cut grey suit worn with a darker grey shirt and—no, it wasn't possible, she was imagining things. Kara shook her head to clear her thoughts but when she looked again the suit and the tie were still there. If it hadn't been for the hard wood of the door-frame at her back she would have sworn she was dreaming. 'I know it's late,' Saul was saying, 'but I couldn't get away from work any earlier. Kara, I -' 'You're wearing a suit!' She couldn't help it, it just slipped out, clearly taking Saul as much by surprise as it did herself. He glanced down at his clothes almost as if he had been completely unaware of them before. 'I'm afraid I am.' There was a hint of amusement in his voice. 'You see, I didn't have time to change and -' Saul's grin was suddenly boyish, touched with self-derision, 'I rather hoped it would create a good impression.' In spite of herself Kara felt her lips curling upwards in response to the appeal of his expression, but even as they did so the rational part of her mind was tugging them down again and she clamped her mouth tight shut on the cry of pain that almost escaped as the full irony of his words hit home. This was the other side to Saul, the unknown part of him. He had wanted to create a good impression and perhaps, if she had never known the other Saul, he might just have done exactly that. But
now all she could see was a man who had Saul's face, Saul's eyes, but wasn't the man she knew at all. 'And why do you want to create a good impression?' she asked stiffly. 'Because I want you to listen to me. Kara, I've come to apologise. I lost my temper, I was angry with myself and I took it out on you. I've tried to keep away—I thought it was for the best—but I can't, so -' He lifted his hands in a gesture of resigned acceptance. 'I have something I want to show you,' he went on abruptly. 'Will you come with me?' 'Now?' It came out unevenly as she struggled with contradictory feelings. 'Saul, it's after ten!' 'It won't take long. Please.' It would have taken a harder heart than Kara possessed to resist that strangely hesitant, almost pleading note in his voice. She was moving back into the living-room to collect her shoes and bag before she had time to think if what she was doing was dangerous and foolish or not. It was a strange and difficult journey and although it lasted little more than twenty minutes to Kara it seemed to have gone on for ever, as if she had spent a lifetime driving through the dark streets, the lighted lamps and shuttered shops blurring into each other until she had no idea where she was. Saul talked at first, stilted social conversation, asking about Hattie's return to work and telling her that Frank and Sheila had set off for a holiday in Cornwall that morning, but his words seemed to bear no relation to his thoughts which, to judge from his frowning, preoccupied expression, were very private and distinctly troublesome ones.
At last they drew up in a narrow, dimly lit street where long rows of terraced houses lined the pavement, each one opening directly on to the street with no garden or even a yard to break the transition. Without a word Saul got out of the car, the slam of the door sounding hollowly in the silence, and Kara had no choice but to follow him as he set off down the shabby, run-down street. When he stopped it was so suddenly that she cannoned into him from behind, the force of the impact driving the breath from her body and making her take a stumbling step off the road and into the gutter. But even as she reeled uncertainly, her hand going out to grip Saul's arm to steady herself, Kara's mind was clear and working swiftly. She needed no word of explanation, the carefully schooled expression of shuttered indifference on Saul's face told her all she needed to know as she turned to look up at the narrow little house, its window frames rotting from years of neglect, the blue paint peeling from the battered front door. For a long moment she simply gazed in silence, then Saul's sudden movement, the deliberate removal of his arm from the grip she hadn't been aware of having maintained, jerked her back into an awareness of the dark, silent figure at her side. 'This is your home, isn't it? Your father's house— where you lived as a boy?' Saul's nod of agreement was brief to the point of curtness and he pushed his hands deep into his pockets, hunching his shoulders in a defensive and strangely vulnerable way that tugged at something in Kara's heart. Her mind was swinging from elation to doubt and back again with alarming speed. She couldn't be unaware of the importance of Saul's actions. He had lowered the barriers between them, letting her into that other world that he guarded so fiercely, and the quivering sense of joy that filled her told her just how
much that meant. But the closed, withdrawn expression, the lack of any emotion in the eyes that were just deeper pools in a darkly shadowed face, warned her that she was still a long way from fully understanding him. 'When did you leave here?' The question came vaguely. She was trying to imagine a younger Saul on his way in and out of that door, on his way to school perhaps, playing football with his friends in the street, or just hanging around at the corner like the bunch of youths who lingered under a lamp at the far end of the road. 'Seven years ago.' Saul's eyes, dark and searching, were fixed on her face, seeming to want to probe into her innermost thoughts. What did he expect of her? Kara wondered. Did he think that now he had confronted her with the reality of his background she would turn away in distaste, condemning the house, the street, and, by implication, him with one contemptuous glance? Perhaps if he had brought her here eight years before, she might have done just that. At sixteen she had been a different person. Kara shifted uneasily from one foot to another, supremely conscious of those watchful eyes. She felt she was being tested and that feeling froze her ability to react spontaneously. Just one short week ago she might have turned to him declaring that it didn't matter, none of it mattered, proclaiming her love loud and clear for all the world to hear—but she didn't even know if that love existed any more. 'What do you want me to say, Saul?' she asked and heard him sigh. 'I don't want you to say anything. I just want you to understand. This is me—part of me,' Saul amended hastily and, pulling his
hands from his pockets, he straightened his shoulders as if accepting something inevitable. 'But this isn't all I have to show you. We have another visit to make.' Mentally and physically Kara dug her heels in. This whole situation was taking on an unreal, nightmare-like quality. She wasn't going to be dragged from one end of town to another without knowing what was going on in Saul's mind. 'I'm not going anywhere unless you tell me what all this is about.' 'I want you to know me. I want you to understand.' 'But I do understand!' Or at least she understood the half of the truth Saul was prepared to show her. 'I can't help but understand, it's right here in front of me! You're working-class and proud of it and I'm just a stuck-up little snob, that's what you're trying to say!' 'Damn you, Kara, that's not it at all!' Saul's angry voice sliced through the air like a blade. 'This is only part of it—I want you to know the rest.' And then she knew. 'I don't want to know! I. don't want you to take me anywhere. I don't want to see where you really live -' The look in his eyes stopped her. 'Because you don't live in a tatty terrace house, do you?' she demanded shakily and Saul shook his head slowly. 'I have a place just up the road from my father's bungalow,' he told her flatly. 'Much more suitable for the owner off Sinclair Garages!' Kara flung the words at his sombre face.
Saul expelled his breath in a sigh and his shoulders slumped dejectedly. 'How long have you known?' 'Kevin told me—he thought I knew already.' It was impossible to keep the bitterness from her voice. 'You lied to me!' 'By omission only, Kara.' Saul's tone was weary. 'I just let you go on believing what you thought was true. I'm not proud of it, and I swear I never meant it to go on so long—I did try to tell you several times,' he added almost roughly. 'But you always stopped me one way or another.' 'When?' Kara cried but immediately realised she knew: the night they had made love, when she had broken in on him so precipitately; that lunchtime in the shop when she had been too preoccupied, too busy to listen; and again on the night on her mother's visit when he had declared his disgust for the pretence he was enmeshed in, the night when, by his own admission, he had been furious with himself, not with her. Shakily she amended her question. 'Why did you do it?' But really she knew the answer to that too and as she heard Saul's voice quietly confirming her own thoughts her anger seeped away, leaving just an empty ache inside. 'Kara, all I'd planned was just one date—after that I meant to snub you as you'd snubbed me all those years ago—but on that date I found I was actually getting to like you and—well, you know how I feel about you physically. So when I thought you'd used me I was furious. I just wanted to teach you a lesson by using you as well. I can't even excuse myself by saying it wasn't deliberate because it was—at first.' With a tiny part of her mind Kara registered the sound of a car approaching at speed, the roar of its engine echoing the thunder
that was pounding at her skull, but then Saul moved suddenly; coming out of the shadows and into the full glow of the street lamp and the sight of him, tall and dark and stylish in the elegant suit, brought home the reality of the situation in a way his words could never do. She gave a small, strangled cry as she fought a desperate battle to keep the tears from her eyes—and lost. 'Kara?' The concern in Saul's voice destroyed her. With a moan of despair she wrenched herself away from him, the hot tears burning her eyes, stumbling blindly without any sense of place or direction. She felt the edge of the pavement and the change from stone to the tarmac surface of the road but blundered on, needing only to get away from this man who was so changed from the Saul she had known. 'Kara, no!' She heard Saul's shout behind her, distorted by the roaring in her head that sounded so much louder now. 'Kara!' The new, raw note in that once dearly familiar voice brought her. up sharply, standing stock still in the middle of the road. Through a haze of tears she caught the flash of headlights, bright and painful and heading straight towards her. But her mind had ceased to function and she stood frozen to the spot, unable to take a step. 'Kara darling—move! Oh God -' From that moment of suspended time when everything seemed to stop developed a nightmare whirl of sensation. With a sense of horror Kara recognised the car's headlights for what they were and knew the need to run but the frantic message sent by her brain didn't reach her legs which were suddenly weak and useless
beneath her. She heard the sound of movement behind her, a blur of words, before a heavy blow landed on her back, flinging her far across the street to land awkwardly and painfully against the opposite kerb. There was a screech of brakes, a sickening thud, then nothing, just an appalling and very final silence. It was the banging of a car door' that brought her back to reality. Every move seeming to be made in slow motion. Kara got shakily to her feet and turned but her eyes wouldn't focus on the scene before her. She was vaguely aware of the dark shape of the car and a smaller, moving figure hurrying from it to bend over something that lay very still on the hard surface of the road. For long, dazed moments Kara simply stood, too numb with shock to understand. Then her mind jerked painfully back into action and suddenly she too was running, her heart screaming a refusal to believe what had happened. It couldn't be true! Dear God, please let it not be true! The shaken voice of the driver said something about calling an ambulance, lights came on, doors opened, there was the sound of hurrying feet, but Kara heard or saw none of them as she sank to her knees beside Saul's crumpled form. The dark curls, tangled and dusty now, had fallen forward over his face and she brushed them aside with infinite tenderness, her hand shaking only very slightly. His face was unmarked but so white and still that her heart stopped in fear. But then she felt the warmth of his skin and when her fingers rested on the pulse in his throat a sob of relief broke from her. Crouching over him protectively, she took one limp hand in both her own, holding it with the strength of desperation, willing him even in his unconscious state to know that she was there.
'Saul,' she whispered urgently, not caring that he couldn't hear her. 'Saul, you have to live. Do you hear me? You just have to!' Kara knelt at Saul's side through the endless minutes it took for the ambulance to reach them, releasing his hand only when they lifted him on to a stretcher, and all that time, and again through the nightmare journey to the hospital, the only thing she was conscious of was the sound of his voice in the second before he had pushed her clear. 'I love you,' he had said. 'Kara, I love you.' And the words echoed over and over in her head until they dissolved into a fury of misery at the fear that she might have heard them too late—for both of them.
CHAPTER TWELVE THE sun streamed through the huge windows in the hospital corridor, beating down on Kara's arms and shoulders above the camisole top of her lemon sundress, but she was oblivious to the intense heat, her attention focused on the heavy double doors that led into the ward. She scarcely noticed her surroundings either, they had become familiar to her in the four days since the accident. In spite of the heat, Kara shivered at the memory of the long, anxious hours she had spent in the waiting room, longing for news. In the end her vigil had been rewarded. A small dark nurse, neat in a crisp white uniform, had come to tell her that Saul had regained consciousness. And there had been other news too, the encouraging news that his injuries had been less serious than had been feared at first. X-rays had revealed several broken ribs, he had been badly bruised and suffering from mild concussion, but nothing more. A couple of days in hospital for rest and observation was all that he had needed, after that he would be allowed home.
The doors opened and, glancing up, Kara saw Saul coming towards her, dressed in the denim shirt and jeans she had handed over to the ward sister some ten minutes before. The shirt was partially unbuttoned at the front and she could see the swathe of bandage around his chest, very white in contrast to the bronzed skin of his face and neck. His movements were stiff and careful and there were still lines of pain etched around his nose and mouth, but at least he was on his feet and, with the memory of his terrifying stillness on the journey to the hospital still fresh in her mind, Kara felt a dizzying release from tension sweep through her as she moved forward.
Saul had seen her, and the welcoming smile that curled his lips froze her thoughts, driving her carefully prepared speech from her head and making her heart pound so fiercely that she felt sure he must hear its uneven rhythm. 'I'll take that,' she managed rather gruffly, reaching for the overnight bag carried by the nurse who had accompanied Saul. 'My car's just by the main door. Can you manage?' It was a slow journey, but at last they were both in the Fiat, Saul sitting very straight in the front seat. Kara shot him a worried glance as she slid into the driving-seat, frowning her concern as she saw the greyish tinge to his face under his tan. 'Not long now. Hold tight and we'll soon have you home.' Kara's voice faltered on the last word, losing its carefully assumed cheerfulness. She had been to Saul's home several times since the accident to collect the things he needed for his stay in hospital, and each time she turned in at the gate of the large, elegant house she felt as if her heart were being torn in two, wrenched by the pang of loss and longing for the Saul she thought she had known, the man she had loved. Her foot slipped on the clutch and the car jolted awkwardly, jarring Saul so that he gave a hiss of pain. 'I'm sorry!' Kara cried penitently. 'Are you all right?' 'Fine,' Saul assured her with obvious exaggeration, but Kara had seen the way his mouth was drawn tight, sharpening the lines of stress in his face, and she drove with infinite care after that, wincing in sympathy at every bump or jolt that could not be avoided. The journey seemed endless but at last it was over and Saul was safely in an armchair in the comfort of his own livingroom.
'Sheila rang,' Kara said as she placed the overnight bag on the table. 'She's still talking about cutting short her holiday and coming home to look after you.' 'I hope you changed her mind.' 'Oh, yes, I told her to stay put.' She was getting better at this, she reflected, in fact they were both growing more skilled in the light, trivial chatter that skimmed the surface, filling the silence and hiding what they were both really feeling. It hadn't been quite so easy on the day after the accident when, during Kara's first visit to the hospital, they had stumbled through a stilted conversation, carefully avoiding any mention of the events that had led up to that moment of blank horror before the car had struck. After a while they had been interrupted by the arrival of Saul's secretary, a briskly efficient woman in her mid-thirties who brought fruit, good wishes from the staff at the garage and a bundle of notes, queries and letters needing Saul's signature, just the sight of which had had Kara murmuring hasty excuses of another appointment, unable to face such concrete evidence of the other world to which Saul belonged. 'I told Sheila I'd be calling in every day anyway.' 'There's no need for that.' There was an unevenness about Saul's voice that worried her. 'I'll manage fine on my own.' 'You'll do no such thing.' Kara carefully avoided meeting Saul's eyes, not wanting to know how seriously he had meant his dismissal of her offer to help because she wasn't at all sure how she would react if she did. 'If I don't come Sheila will be up here
like a shot. It has to be one or other of us so you'd better make your mind up to that.' 'I don't seem to have much choice.' 'None at all.' The lightly confident tone was becoming difficult to maintain. 'I'll make lunch now. You could do with something to eat. Salad okay?' Saul nodded slowly; he seemed completely indifferent to the idea of food. 'Anything,' he said flatly but then his expression changed and, suddenly fearful that he might add something that would breach the, invisible line they had drawn between what could and what could not be mentioned, Kara rushed on hastily. 'I'll have it ready in a minute—you just relax.' She fled from the room before he could speak again. Like everything else in the house, the sleek, beautifully equipped kitchen spoke of money and status, things she had never connected with Saul before now, and staring round at it miserably Kara wondered if she would be able to keep her promise to Sheila. It had been the only way to prevent the older woman from carrying out her threat to cut short her holiday, but Saul's father and stepmother weren't due back for another three weeks—and neither of them knew anything of the events that had led up to the accident. With those events always in the forefront of her mind, Kara didn't know if she could cope with seeing Saul day after day while her feelings were in such turmoil. She couldn't come to terms with this new person that Saul had become. She had given her heart to a wild gipsy, the untamed pirate in disreputable clothes, and now in his place she found a self-assured, sophisticated businessman who lived in a beautiful house and employed large numbers of men in the string of garages
he owned. The man who had made her wonder if he even possessed a suit now turned out to have a wardrobe full of outfits of the finest cut and material. She had discovered them only that morning when, at Saul's request, she had called at the house to collect his clothes. Kara doubted if she would ever forget the moment when she had pushed back the sliding doors and stared in blank astonishment at the sight that met her eyes. She had wept then, the tears coursing down her cheeks, sobbing out her fears and uncertainties, the desolation of loss of the man she had believed Saul to be, whose destruction seemed symbolised by the row of elegant clothes. Having taken the day off work, Kara shared the lunch she had prepared with Saul, struggling through a difficult, awkward meal when neither of them ate or spoke very much. Saul had retreated into an abstracted, remote mood, one that Kara was disinclined to intrude on for the simple reason that she had no idea what to say. It was only when the plates had been cleared away that he spoke, clearly starting half way through a train of thought. 'I'd planned to bring you here, you know—after I'd taken you to the old house. I wanted to explain everything then, but fate decreed otherwise.' And if he had brought her here, if he had shown her the house and told her the truth, would he then, freely and without hesitation, have made the declaration of love that had been wrenched from him in that second of horror before the car struck? He had said nothing of that moment, by neither a word nor a look had he given any hint of the feelings he had been unable to hide on that night. And she had never asked, had never wanted to find out if she had heard right, because if Saul were to say that he loved her she didn't know how she would answer him. She was no longer even sure if
she wanted him to love her. The rough-edged gipsy had stolen her heart, Saul Diamond, owner and managing director of Sinclair Garages was a man she didn't know. So it was easier to convince herself that the words she thought she had heard were just a figment of her imagination, created by the trauma of seeing the car bearing down on her so rapidly. So now, because she was afraid the conversation was moving in a direction she couldn't handle, she directed it off down another path with a careful question. 'Did you move here when you left Elizabeth Street or did you live somewhere else in between?' The intentness of the sidelong glance Saul slanted in her direction seemed to indicate that he was well aware of her diversionary tactics but he answered her question easily enough though a hint of tired resignation touched his voice. 'I bought this place last year. I couldn't afford anything this size before that. For years, everything I made had to be ploughed back into the business. When I went to work for Bob there were only two garages and one of those was failing. We had to work every hour God sent to get them back on a solid footing. I didn't mind, it was a way of thanking Sheila for the help she was giving Dad and there was nothing much else in my life at the time. When the manager of the Fleet Road branch left Bob gave me the job even though I was so young—and he made me a partner in the business as a twenty-first-birthday present.' A flash of raw emotion showed in Saul's eyes, making Kara recall how his father had said that Frank and Sheila had regarded Saul as the son they had never had.
'When Bob died he left his share in the garages to Sheila of course and for a while I managed both of them but in the end she decided she wanted to sell her interest so I bought her out—the business was expanding by then and it's continued to grow ever since. I kept the original name though, for Sheila's sake. After all, it was Bob who started it.' But it had been Saul who had built it into the thriving concern it was now. Kevin had known all this, Kara thought miserably. All those years ago he had taken the time and trouble to get to know Saul properly, not dismissing him on the evidence of half-truths as she had. Something twisted deep inside her as she recognised that her love too had been built on those half-truths and admitted that there was an ironic sort of justice in the way she seemed to have come full circle, losing both her prejudices and her love on the way. The days that' followed were exhausting, difficult ones. Saul was not an easy patient, the life of a convalescent irked him, he fretted under its restrictions and his moods were unpredictable as a result, but it wasn't that or the lengthy drive to his house after long hours in the shop that drained Kara's strength and made her long for the day that Frank and Sheila would return. She was exhausted by her own erratic shifts of mood, the endless irresolvable conflict of feeling that left her emotionally battered as if by some violent mental whirlwind. Saul himself had done nothing to aggravate that conflict. Only once had he overstepped the invisible boundaries that lay between them, and that had been on the very first evening as she prepared to leave. 'There's something I have to know,' he had said and from the dark fires that burned in his eyes she had known that this was one
question she couldn't deflect with casual conversation. 'I hurt you badly and I feel guilty as hell about it. I thought I could use you as you used me and not give a damn, but then somewhere along the line my feelings changed—but the fact that I hadn't told you the truth was always there between us. It still is. I have to know if you can forgive me for the way I deceived you.' It was almost frightening the way she didn't have to hesitate. She had given him the answer he wanted, telling him it was past and forgotten, and she had meant it. She had forgiven him for the way he had deceived her, knowing in her own heart that she had been foolishly blind, needing the lesson he had taught her. It was past and forgotten, and it wasn't that that came between them, making her feel so strangely distant from him. Nor was it any change in Saul's appearance that held her back. Except on the night of the accident she had never seen Saul, in any of those smart suits. While he was confined to the house there was no need for him to dress more formally and he still favoured the casual shirts and jeans she was accustomed to seeing him in, but in a way that only made matters worse. Often she would glance up and see him sprawled on the settee or moving stiffly and painfully about the room and her mind slipped into the past so that for a second she could almost believe that the change in him had just been a dream, that he was still the man she had fallen in love with. But then some word or action or, more often, the shrill of the telephone would shatter the dream and a wave of desolation would sweep over her, leaving her feeling bereft and desperately lonely. The telephone rang non-stop, or so it seemed to Kara, and in a very short time she grew to hate the sound of it. Saul was supposed to be resting, allowing his ribs to heal, but even in the sanctuary of his home the demands of his business intruded and no matter how
much she argued or protested he was incapable of ignoring the insistent summons or leaving the receiver off the hook. On more than one occasion Kara had given into her feelings and fled from the room at the sound of the bell because nothing brought home to her more clearly the way her world had been turned upside down than to hear the crisp, confident way in which Saul answered questions or gave orders, the capable, efficient businessman revealed in every word he spoke, the new Saul who looked like the same man and yet was a stranger to her so that she was forced to wonder if her love had died or if in fact it had never existed. But then Saul would call her Blondie in the old, teasing way or smile his slow, lazy smile and her heart would turn over inside her, telling her that one thing hadn't changed at all. Because, whatever else had died, her physical desire for him was still as strong as ever. It was there in the electric tingle running up her arm if their hands accidentally touched; in the hungry way she watched him when he was occupied and was unaware of her scrutiny. But Saul had never touched her. In all those weeks he had never even attempted to kiss her, something that was both a great relief and a source of intense pain. Sometimes the frustration was so savage that Kara felt she would break apart with wanting him and was tempted to throw all caution to the winds and fling herself into his arms—but sanity and a strong sense of self-preservation always prevailed. Because that was a slippery path that lead straight to selfdestruction. Having once known the glory of love she could never again be satisfied with the purely physical passion they had shared before. If Saul were to touch her, kiss her just once, she would be
lost in that explosion of desire he could trigger so easily, and until she was sure of how she really felt she could not risk that. So it was with a sense of release that Kara set out for Saul's home on the third weekend of his convalescence. Tonight Sheila and Frank would be back from their holiday. They would take over the care of Saul—though really he was well on the mend—and she would be free. Free to do what? Because there was the real problem: she didn't know what she wanted any more. Saul's house was strangely silent when she let herself in, no male voice answering her call of greeting. But then a sound from outside drew her to the open kitchen door. Even before she saw the MG with its bonnet standing wide open she knew what she would find but she was unprepared for the devastating effect that just seeing Saul in the familiar faded and patched jeans and shrunken tee-shirt had on her. It was like taking a step back in time, recalling that first meeting, and rocking her sense of reality savagely. Saul was filthy, his hands and clothes smeared with oil, there was even a smudge of it on his cheek. He looked tired too and a little drawn but it wasn't that that had Kara's heart lurching inside her but the aching sweetness of the memories his appearance evoked. 'Should you be doing that?' Kara's private thoughts made the words come out breathlessly. 'Perhaps not, but I was going crazy stuck inside doing nothing.' Saul reached for a rag, wiping his grimy hands on it as he came towards the house, his movements still slightly stiff and careful. 'I'll go and get cleaned up now.'
'I'll make some coffee then,' Kara offered, suddenly needing something to do. Her eyes would keep straying to the lean strength of his body, reviving such bittersweet memories. They were just polite strangers, she thought despondently as Saul nodded his thanks, both of them making careful social conversation, no trace of the fire they had lit between them before. With the percolator filled and switched on, Kara wandered disconsolately into the living-room and sank down into a chair, her preoccupied frown mirroring her disturbed thoughts. If only she had someone she could talk to! Hattie was too busy with problems of adjusting to being back at work and her mother would never understand. To her, the discovery that Saul was not just the mechanic she had taken him to be would be a source of delight, improving Saul's standing in her eyes one hundred percent, if not more. Kara sighed then stiffened as her gaze fell on a photograph of Frank and Sheila prominently displayed on a bookshelf and something Saul's stepmother had said slipped into her mind like a light going on, illuminating formerly dark corners. 'A big house, expensive car, stylish clothes don't make anyone more or less than the person they are.' She had learned that lesson once when she had thought Saul had no position, no money—and now? Perhaps she had to learn it all over again. Suddenly the room before her seemed strangely changed. She was no longer aware of the elegant decor, the expensive furnishings, instead she saw the small personal touches, Saul's books, his records, a sweater tossed carelessly across a chair, the motor-bike magazine he had been absorbed in the night before. A faint sound drew her attention to where Saul stood in the doorway. He had changed into the brown cord trousers and oatmeal-coloured shirt he had worn on that first evening when he
had taken her to the Old Schoolhouse. The memory of how she had believed then that he did not even own a suit stabbed at her, making her turn her head away swiftly and she heard Saul sigh softly. 'You haven't forgiven me, have you?' he said flatly, twisting Kara's heart with the realisation that he had misread her action. 'There was nothing to forgive,' she said jerkily. 'I was an appalling little snob and -' The words died in her throat as she realised he had moved, coming disturbingly close. Hastily she got to her feet, feeling far too vulnerable sitting down. 'I have forgiven you, Saul,' she added more forcefully. He was too near now, his strong-boned face only inches away from her own. If she just raised her hand she could touch it. Frantically she snatched at a small distraction. 'You—you've still got oil on your face,' she said on a nervous laugh and unthinkingly reached out to wipe the dark smear from his face, her fingers coming away stained black at the tips. 'Now you've got yourself dirty.' Saul's voice was as expressionless as his face but there was a new tension in the muscles of his back and shoulders that communicated itself to Kara, tightening her nerves in response. 'Oh, well, what's a bit of dirt between friends,' she declared with a lightness that didn't even fool herself, then gave a cry of shock as the hand she had waved in an airy gesture was caught and held in a painful grip.
'Friends,' Saul said harshly. 'I thought we were rather more than that.' In the moment those hard fingers had closed over hers Kara's heart had seemed to stop but now it jerked back into frantic action, setting the blood pounding in her head like the roar of thunder. She stared at their hands linked together, Saul's dark and strong, hers white and frighteningly fragile, and her throat was suddenly painfully dry at the sensation of that rough, callused palm against her own, bringing memories of the delight that touch had aroused in the past. Hard and work-worn, that hand didn't belong to the civilised businessman, it was part of the Saul she loved. 'I thought so too—once,' she whispered sadly. 'And now?' There was nothing in that soft voice to frighten her but the sudden fluttering sensation in her stomach came very close to panic, making her snatch her hand away in confusion. 'I—don't know.' She wanted to turn away, wanted to look anywhere but into those deep eyes that were so dark they were almost black, but she couldn't move because now she recognised what that butterfly feeling had been. It wasn't panic but love stirring once more inside her, not dead, just asleep and now coming awake once more with the realisation that there was no 'other' Saul, only the man who stood before her. 'Take me as I am', somehow she always came back to those words. Saul hadn't changed, it was Kara herself who had temporarily lost her bearings, distracted, as she had been before, by outward appearances when she should have been concentrating on the man himself.
'Kara, what the hell are you doing here?' The sudden sharpening of Saul's tone had her taking a nervous step backwards. 'I told you I'd come—last night -' 'That isn't what I mean! For three weeks you've been coming to this house, but you haven't really been here. It's been like having a ghost haunt me. You drift in, chat about the most inconsequential rubbish, and drift out again. I've tried to give you time to adjust but I don't know how to reach you any more. You don't seem to want what we had, you don't, seem to want anything, but still you come back—so why?' She'd heard that note in his voice before, the emotion sounding clearly above the roar of an approaching car in a narrow, darkened street, and the memory made her lift her eyes to His, seeing the dark fires that blazed in their depths revealing everything he hadn't put into words. 'Perhaps I came looking for you.' Saul frowned his bewilderment. 'But I was here all the time.' 'I thought I was looking for another Saul.' Her voice was just a thin thread of sound but the way Saul's head went back told her he had heard it and with empathic understanding had seen through to the heart of what she had said. 'And did you find him?' he asked huskily. 'Like you said, he was here all the time.' Saul drew a long, unsteady breath, compressing his lips slightly at the effect on his injured ribs. 'And why was it so important to find me?'
And suddenly it was so very easy. It was just three words and all she had to do was say them. 'I love you.' 'Who do you love, Kara?' He'd asked her that question before and she hadn't been able to answer it but there was no hesitation now. 'You,' she said firmly and knew from his eyes that there was no need to elaborate, but she went on all the same. 'The mechanic, the businessman, the person. The man who lived in that terraced house, the man who lives here, the man in filthy jeans and the man who owns all those suits upstairs. The man who makes me laugh, makes me think—but most of all the man I made love with.' And now she had no doubts about the words she had heard on the night of the accident. Saul's face told her everything she needed to know but still she wanted to hear him say what was in his thoughts. 'Now you,' she said quietly, adding more urgently, 'say it again Saul—please.' 'You heard?' Saul's voice was hoarse and uneven. 'I thought you hadn't—or that if you had you didn't want to know, that that wasn't what you wanted from me. We'd agreed on an affair, nothing more, but I found I wanted much more than that.' 'So did I. That night when my mother came to dinner, I knew then that I loved you. I tried to tell you then.' 'Only I was so eaten up with guilt at the way I'd deceived you that I wouldn't even listen.' Saul's smile was rueful. 'I hated myself that
night. I realised I'd been every bit as prejudiced as I'd accused you of being. I wanted to start again but in a different way. I knew I had to begin by being honest with you. That's why I took you to the old house. I would have brought you here too but—God, Kara! When I saw that car -' His feelings were clear in his face, his eyes, his voice, but she needed him to say it, needed to hear the words spoken firmly and confidently, not dragged from him in a moment of despair. Saul recognised her need without any prompting. 'I love you, Kara,' he said softly. 'God, how I love you.' The most beautiful words in the world, Kara thought dreamily as she moved into his open arms. Words that crossed all distances, broke down all barriers, destroyed all prejudices. For the length of his kiss she forgot the physical world and everything in it but when she wound her arms tightly round his waist Saul's slight flinch had her taking a step back, a cry of dismay springing to her lips. 'Your ribs—I forgot—did I hurt you?' she asked anxiously. 'Nothing you could do could ever hurt me now,' Saul assured her. 'And I promise you I'll be fighting fit for our wedding night. You are going to marry me, aren't you?' 'Of course.' Kara's smile was teasing. 'After all, I need a good mechanic to look after my car.' 'You can forget that idea, milady.' There was no sting in the nickname now, the loving laughter in Saul's voice destroyed it completely. 'I've told you before, you're more than capable of learning that for yourself.' 'But only if you teach me,' Kara told him softly.
'We'll do it together,' Saul said firmly, drawing her back towards him, and as she lifted her face for his kiss Kara knew that this would be the pattern for the future. Their marriage would be a partnership of equals, their differences forgotten in the sharing that would last a lifetime.