Into Temptation Page 11

‘You’re a good-looking girl, Ms Dorey. A word of warning: watch yourself. I know men, and I know Jack Ward. He likes a pretty girl. He’ll eat you for breakfast. You’re just one in a long line. For your own sake, don’t fall for him. Like I said, he’s the lowest of the low. A snake.’ She slung her Louis Vuitton handbag over her shoulder and straightened. ‘Well it was nice to meet you.’ She flashed a cool smile. ‘Don’t forget to give Jack my message, now, will you? There’s a good girl.’ She turned on her heel and walked out of the door.

  Amber sat down, and found she was shaking.

  ‘Oh yes, that’s definitely the one! It suits you so well it might have been made especially for you.’ The dress shop assistant stood back admiringly as Amber inspected herself in the mirror, twisting around so she could see herself from all angles. The dress did look good on her, it was no lie. A sleeveless, bias-cut, café-au-lait sheath, it skimmed down over her body, clinging softly in all the right places.

  She didn’t know why she was trying it on, and she certainly didn’t know why she was shortly about to hand over the several hundred pounds that it cost to buy – money she could ill afford given her current, soon-to-be-jobless situation. Except that, despite everything, she still wanted him to be bowled over by her, to think her beautiful. To want her… She had given up trying to analyse her feelings where Jack Ward was concerned.

  ‘I’ll take it,’ she told the woman. ‘Would you mind cutting off the labels? I’ll be wearing it tonight and I’m leaving straight away.’

  Amber went to change. Tonight, for the first time in almost a week, she would see Jack Ward again. How would it be? How would it be to see that dark profile again, feel those dark, weighing eyes on her? Would her heart momentarily cease pumping, her lungs suddenly stop sucking in breath?

  Yes, she knew, even though she wished it were otherwise, yes. That was the effect he had on her.

  If it had been difficult to concentrate before Nell Fitzpatrick’s visit, now it had become almost impossible. If she’d needed any more proof that Jack was a womaniser and bastard of the worst kind, she had it now – courtesy of his ex-wife. Meeting her had been a major shock to the system. That he’d had a wife at all had been a surprise, but the fact he’d been married to someone like Nell was truly astonishing: pushy, overly made-up, somehow, despite all the expensive jewellery and clothes – cheap. She wouldn’t have thought her his type in a million years.

  But then, she thought now, doing up her work clothes, she knew very little about him – who he was underneath that cool exterior, what exactly made him tick. Nell had simply confirmed her worst fears. Not only did he have a girlfriend in London whom he’d happily cheated on, he had an ex-wife who had to chase him for alimony – an ex-wife who held him in the lowest possible esteem and accused him of eating pretty girls for breakfast. Doubtless he must have had many affairs during their marriage for her to be so bitter. Affairs with girls just like her, in all probability…

  Amber emerged and paid for the dress, then drove herself up to the airport and checked in for the short hop to Jersey.

  Several hours later she stood before the full-length mirror in her room at Jersey’s Grouville hotel, the beautiful iridescent fabric of her new dress gleaming softly in the evening light that spilled in from the large bay window. She’d applied her make-up just like Jess had shown her, and piled her hair simply and loosely around her shoulders. She fastened the pair of topaz earrings that her father had given her for her eighteenth birthday, then leant down to fasten the elegant champagne-coloured satin sandals she’d bought to go with the dress.

  It was almost a quarter to eight, and she was ready. She took a deep breath and opened the door, went down to the foyer bar, where pre-dinner drinks were to be served, automatically scanning the room for Jack’s impressive frame – standing several inches taller than most other men he was always easy to spot. But although the room was already buzzing with people, she saw with a sharp prick of disappointment that he wasn’t among them.

  ‘Amber!’ She turned to see Janet Marquand bearing down on her, proffering a glass of champagne. ‘You look absolutely wonderful my dear! Even more gorgeous than you did that night at Le Grand Creux, if that’s possible. Where did you disappear to that night, by the way?’

  ‘Disappear…?’ Amber was momentarily flummoxed. ‘Oh, I… I um, I wasn’t feeling too good. Too much unaccustomed alcohol; you know how it is.’

  Janet grinned. ‘Gillian on reception said she was sure she caught a glimpse of you leaving with a man. A tall, dark man.’

  ‘Really?’ Amber responded, sipping at her champagne and trying to keep the note of consternation out of her voice. ‘It must simply have been a co-incidence.’

  The older woman’s eyes twinkled. ‘Well I hope it was a very enjoyable co-incidence. You deserve some fun pet.’

  The long case clock on the wall beside them struck the quarter hour.

  ‘Only a quarter of an hour until dinner and still no sign of him,’ said Janet, sighing. ‘At this rate he’s not going to make it.’

  ‘Who won’t make it?’

  ‘Jack Ward. Apparently he phoned earlier to say his flight from New York was delayed and he’s going to be much later than expected. He’s meant to be getting the evening flight from London, but the fog’s started to come in: look, you can already see from the window. I doubt he’ll be able to get here. A fine thing, not to be present at your own welcome party eh? Still, while the cat’s away…’ She took a big gulp of champagne. ‘Cheers! I always approve of a good party. Especially those where all the drinks are free. This new boss of ours has got the right idea.’

  Amber’s heart seemed to drop down through her body like a stone, then on down through the floor. No Jack…

  Janet’s voice cut through her reverie. ‘Earth to Amber, are you receiving me…?’

  ‘Sorry, what were you saying?’

  ‘Oh, just talking about the party. I’m glad to see the new boss isn’t skimping on keeping his staff happy. What’s he like? To work for, I mean.’

  ‘Oh… um, fine. Yes, absolutely fine.’ Janet’s reaction told her that Jack must be keeping the news of her resignation to himself. If Janet knew, she certainly wouldn’t hesitate to bring it up. Amber hadn’t told anyone at the company her news.

  The other woman’s eyes gleamed anew. ‘Just fine? Must be hard keeping your mind on your work with him around the place. He’s quite a distraction!’

  Amber laughed lightly. ‘Well I try to manage the best I can. Janet, would you please excuse me for a moment? I’ve just seen someone I urgently need to speak to.’

  ‘Of course. Catch up with you later eh?’

  Amber went back out and found the side door, which opened, onto the hotel’s gardens. She walked outside, gratefully breathing in the cool evening air. Yes, there was the fog, just like Janet had said, rolling in over the harbour, Gorey Castle, the old medieval fort built at the harbour-mouth to keep out the French poking up through the silver fingers of mist like something from a fairytale.

  Fog, she thought bitterly, disbelievingly – and tonight of all nights. It was the bane of Channel Islanders’ lives: when fog rolled in it meant the islands were utterly cut off by air; no one could fly in or out – and no post or newspapers from the UK could be delivered.

  She sat down on a bench and stared out miserably across the little Jersey town – so much like Guernsey’s St Peter Port, with its granite buildings and little winding streets, but flat, not clinging to a hillside like St Peter Port. Beyond lay Gorey Harbour, barely visible in the mist, its fishing boats just spots of dulling colour bobbing up and down in the rising tide.

  Then suddenly from several feet away she heard a man’s voice. An unmistakable, male voice that she recognised instantly, and which involuntarily tipped her insides upside down.

  ‘Amber! Amber! I thought it was you.’

  Chapter Nine

  Rory!

  Amber watched, her mind suddenly paralysed with shock, as her ex-fia
ncé made his way across the grass towards her, his slim frame clad in the expensive dark grey suit she’d bought for him the previous Christmas.

  Rory. There he was, exactly the same as the last time she’d seen him – that sandy blond hair, those guileless grey eyes, that wide, boyish smile. What on earth was he doing here?

  Suddenly she was back in their rented flat, walking into the bedroom and into that terrible scene, locking appalled eyes with his guilty ones over the shoulder of the black-haired woman jiggling up and down in ecstasy on top of him. Anger, disbelief, betrayal – all those feelings she’d thought she’d dealt with once and for all – ignited suddenly and fiercely once again down in the pit of her stomach.

  ‘Wow!’ he said, as he reached her, slowly shaking his head, looking her up and down. ‘You look – you look stunning. What a transformation!’

  ‘Rory,’ she said, standing up, struggling valiantly with herself to keep her voice level, free of the overwhelming hostility for him that she felt. She must deal with him as coolly as possible. ‘Well, this is a surprise.’

  ‘It is rather, isn’t it?’ His eyes were taking a leisurely and unabashed tour of her body. ‘I can’t get over how good you look,’ he said, voice low with surprise. ‘You’ve done something different with your hair, haven’t you? And your glasses have gone. You look completely different to when we, when we um…’ He ran an agitated hand through his hair – the same hair, she thought now with a pang, that she had once run her fingers through – and cleared his throat. ‘What are you doing in Jersey, Amber?’

  ‘I’m here for a company dinner. De Garis Hotels has been taken over. You might have seen it in the paper.’

  ‘By Ward Hotels. Yes, I did read that.’ His mouth quirked. ‘I’m surprised you’re still working there, knowing how you feel about your family’s history with them.’

  Amber bristled. Naturally she had entrusted Rory with a great deal of her most personal information, including the story of her father and Adam Ward. How she wished, now, that she hadn’t.

  ‘I’m working out my notice,’ she said.

  He grinned, grey eyes lingering appreciatively over her body. ‘That figures. You always were the sort to make a stand. I know how much store you set by your principles.’

  ‘And what’s wrong with principles?’ she countered icily, her sang-froid returning. ‘It seems to me that you could do with a few yourself.’

  ‘Ouch,’ he said, his face screwing up. ‘But I deserve that, I know. Listen Amber, I…’

  ‘Roooooo-rrrry!’ A woman’s disembodied voice floated across from somewhere around the corner.

  ‘Oh Christ,’ he growled, ‘that’s Emily.’

  ‘Ah, Emily!’ Amber repeated ironically, enjoying her former fiancé’s obvious discomfiture. ‘So that’s her name, is it? I never did get to know what it was. After all, we were never formally introduced, were we?’

  ‘Listen Amber, there’s something…’

  She wrapped her arms around herself; the fast-moving fog was turning the evening air chilly. ‘I have to get back,’ she said, swiftly cutting through whatever it was he had been about to say. She turned to go. But before she could move away, Emily appeared from around the corner, her voluptuous body shoe-horned into an extremely low-cut black cocktail dress, the long black curls that Amber recognised so well bouncing down her bare back as she walked. She felt a sick thump of recognition.

  ‘Rory, there you are!’ said Emily in a petulant whine. ‘Why didn’t you answer when I called? I’ve been… Oh!’ Her black eyes immediately narrowed as she registered Amber’s presence – and checked out her rival’s new look. She threaded her arm proprietarily through Rory’s, displeasure and dislike radiating from her in waves. ‘We have to get back darling,’ she said, honeyed voice edged with acid. ‘Our parents are waiting.’

  ‘It’s okay, I was just leaving,’ said Amber, turning.

  ‘Did Rory tell you our news?’ Emily called after her, boldly. ‘We’re engaged, as of last week. Look!’ She thrust out a hand, which Amber saw sported a small ruby surrounded by diamonds. ‘We’ve come over to Jersey to celebrate,’ she added triumphantly, turning to her new fiancé. ‘Haven’t we Rory?’

  ‘Yeah,’ he responded after a second’s pause, staring uneasily at the ground.

  ‘Well congratulations,’ Amber smiled. ‘That’s wonderful. I hope you’ll both be very happy together. Now if you’ll excuse me.’ She made her way back across the grass. So, Rory and his jezebel were engaged. The man she’d once loved and trusted above all others – the man she’d given her virginity to, whom she’d thought she’d spend the rest of her life with – was now engaged to be married to the woman he’d cheated on her with.

  She waited for the pain to come, to slide swiftly and resolutely between her ribs like a cold blade. But, she noted with considerable surprise, it didn’t come. She was angry and hurt. But there was no kick of real, raw pain.

  She stopped. How could that be possible? Rory had meant everything to her, and he had hurt her so badly. Maybe it was some kind of delayed shock. Maybe the pain would come later, when she least expected it…

  She went to the function room, where the assembled party was now gathering for dinner. She saw from the name card that she had been due to sit next to Jack, but someone from Ward Hotels’ head office, Jack’s chief finance officer, installed himself next to her instead.

  The evening passed off in a haze of excellent wine, good food – and unrelenting business talk: of Ward Hotels’ massive turnover, its lofty business projections and ambitious future merger and acquisition plans. Jack Ward, it was clear, presided over a very powerful empire indeed – even more powerful than she had first thought.

  At around ten o’clock, after several speeches, a band began to play, and people got up to dance. Politely declining an invitation, she took a seat in the corner – and was quickly transported back to the last time she had danced, on the beach, with Jack, the soft warm sand between her toes, his strong arms encircling her waist, his body hard against hers, searching lips against her neck, both of them alive with the promise of what was to come…

  What an evening this was by comparison, she thought dejectedly, staring out at the other dancers – an impressionistic sea of happy faces. First the crushing discovery that Jack wasn’t there, and then the run-in with Rory and his new fiancée.

  She danced once or twice, her heart hardly in it. Then eventually she looked at her watch – and saw that it was half past eleven. She felt hot, tired, and thoroughly miserable. She went through the French windows onto the wide terrace beyond. It was much cool out there, and gratefully she sank onto a low stone wall, holding her glass against her burning forehead. In a few minutes she would go up to bed. This was a night that needed to end. As soon as possible.

  Then, all of a sudden, she heard the sound of footsteps hurrying up the terrace steps from the garden below.

  ‘Amber! Thank God you’re still here.’ Rory appeared in front of her, slightly out of breath from his quick ascent. ‘I thought you’d gone. I have to speak to you. Urgently.’

  Rory again! What was going on now? This was all getting distinctly odd… She put down her drink and stood up. ‘Actually I was just about to go in,’ she said. ‘I’m really tired.’

  His eyes once again seemed to drink her in, a soft smile forming on his lips. The band in the room next door started to play a slow song.

  ‘Don’t go. Dance with me Amber,’ he said, holding out a hand. ‘For old times’ sake. Please?’

  She looked at the outstretched hand, the familiar smiling face. All at once memories crowded into her mind – good memories. The night they had met, their first kiss, all the fun times they’d shared. Rory had always loved to dance, and she had always enjoyed dancing with him. He was a good dancer…

  As if in a trance, she took his hand, and he drew her towards him, tucking her in against his shoulder, under his chin – just as he’d always used to do.

  ‘Do you reme
mber when we used to dance like this?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes,’ she replied, feeling oddly mesmerised by the music, the familiar feel and smell of him. But, strangely, he didn’t seem to smell nearly so good as she remembered. All she could smell was alcohol and cigarettes.

  ‘We had some good times together, Amber, didn’t we? The meals we used to have out at the weekend, the cliff walks.’

  She nodded against his shoulder in reply. It was true; they had shared some good times.

  ‘Did I tell you how lovely you look tonight?’ he asked, after a while?

  ‘Yes, I believe you did.’

  ‘I never realised before just how beautiful you are. When I saw you tonight, standing on your own in the garden, I thought you were the most gorgeous thing I’d ever seen.’ He paused, and she felt him swallow. ‘I can’t believe I gave all that up.’

  Gave it up… Yes, she thought, a surge of cold reality suddenly suffusing into her tired, overheated brain. He had given it all up. Given her up – for Emily.

  She pulled away. ‘Where’s your fiancée?’

  ‘Emily? Oh, I don’t know. She’s stormed off somewhere. We had an argument.’

  Amber raised her eyebrows. ‘An argument? And there was I thinking you two were the perfect couple.’

  His face twisted. ‘Don’t be like that, Amber, please. If you must know, we were having an argument about you!’

  ‘About me?’

  ‘Yes. She saw the way I was looking at you earlier – the way I couldn’t help but look at you earlier.’ He gripped her arm. ‘Oh God Amber, I’m such an idiot. I should never have let you go!’

  She shook off his hand, the humiliation of his betrayal suddenly as sharp as when she’d first discovered it. ‘But I thought I wasn’t giving you enough love and attention,’ she rounded on him. ‘I thought I was too interested in my career!’

  He shook his head, pained eyes anxiously searching her face. ‘I was a fool to have said those things. None of it was true, I see that now!’ He trailed his fingers down her naked arm. ‘I gave up the best thing I ever had. Emily is a bitch. All she ever goes on about is money – and how I don’t make nearly enough of it. I made a mistake Amber. A huge mistake. I love you, and I want you to forgive me. Amber, I want you to take me back.’