An Inconvenient Desire (14 page)

She’d gotten used to his short haircut, but she missed the curls and his laid-back attitude. He was so intense these days. She longed to ease the tension she often saw on his face. But his sparkling blue eyes were the same, and now they rested warmly on her.

He handed her a glass and put his arm back around her waist. “Olivia has been giving me her opinion of the exhibition,” Jennifer commented.

“And what was that?”

“Very diplomatic,” she replied with a laugh. “Quick, I see Miriam Walker heading this way. She loves modern art and will undoubtedly wax lyrical for hours on the deeper meaning of the purple splodge versus the pink one. It’s too late for me. Save yourselves,” Jennifer whispered urgently before turning toward the advancing Miriam.

“You are a brave woman,” Jonathan whispered back and steered Olivia toward the window. Within a few minutes several other couples joined them. She smiled pleasantly but allowed Jonathan to do most of the talking, not feeling she had anything useful to add. But at least they didn’t discuss banking. And belying her preconception that it was a cutthroat business full of sharks, everyone seemed very pleasant.

“Please excuse me, I’ll be back in a moment,” she pardoned herself after half an hour. She put her empty glass on a passing waiter’s tray and headed for the ladies’ room. She could feel Jonathan’s eyes on her back and put a bit more sway in her hips as she walked.

She was in a cubicle when the click of heels on the marble floor heralded the arrival of two women. As they stayed by the mirror, Olivia assumed they were just there to touch up their makeup. Her heart sank when she overheard their conversation.

“Did you see that woman with Jonathan Davis?” the first woman began.

“Who didn’t? I had to keep elbowing my husband in the ribs to stop his staring,” the second woman added. “I’d love to get my hands on her dress, but I don’t think it would look half as good on me.”

“Evidently he’s been introducing her as his girlfriend. I Googled her; she’s a model. Seems Jonathan stays true to type.”

“Another model? I’d have thought he’d have learned his lesson the first time.”

The first woman laughed. “Men’s memories are shorter than their dicks. At least she won’t be disappointed, for however long it lasts. He’s good-looking, has money, and is wonderful in bed.”

“Well, you of all people should know. I still can’t believe you let him get away. You lusted after him for years.”

“I tried my best. He was monk-like when he was married but after he divorced, I managed to get him in bed. But Jonathan doesn’t do commitment. At least not anymore,” the first woman revealed.

“Well, you’ve got Edward now,” the second woman tried to console her.

“Yes, Edward. Not as good-looking, or as rich, but at least he didn’t run for the hills when I tried to take things to the next level.”

Their voices faded, and the sound of their shoes on the floor disappeared. Olivia waited for a moment to be sure they were gone before exiting the stall. She stared at herself in the mirror while she washed her hands.

If this woman, from his own world, couldn’t get him to commit, what hope do I have? Great, I’ve done it again. Got so caught up in the fantasy of a real, loving family, I forgot who I am and what I need.

Her stomach lurched and she had to grab the wall for support. Her whole body rebelled at the idea of leaving Jonathan. There was no way she could tell him tonight without dissolving in a flood of tears. It was going to take some practice and a hell of a lot of tissues.

When she finally felt she could walk without throwing up, she rejoined Jonathan in the East Room. Thankfully he was alone for once.

“Is everything okay?” he asked as she approached.

“Yes, fine.” Olivia pasted one of her modeling smiles on her face. “I’m just exhausted from shopping all day with your sister and now standing all evening in these shoes. My feet hurt and I’ve got a headache coming on—do you mind if I leave?” She needed to get out of there before she came face to face with the women behind the voices.

Just then the photographer who had been making rounds, snapping photos of the guests, approached. Her model training kicked in and she posed next to Jonathan as if nothing were wrong.

As soon as the man moved away, Jonathan searched her face, concern in his eyes. “Let’s get your coat.” He put his arm around her waist and led her toward the door.

“You don’t need to come. I can get a taxi home,” she protested, but he didn’t release her.

“No way. If I don’t go with you, there will be such a mass exodus of men from this building, the media will think there’s a run on the bank,” he replied, deadpan. “Markets will collapse and the world economy will be thrown into another recession.”

All the way home in the taxi, the women’s conversation repeated in her mind like one of those soundtracks played to torture terrorists:
Another model? Jonathan doesn’t do commitment.

No wonder their girlfriend/boyfriend experiment had so far netted her two kisses and his hand in hers or at her waist. Jonathan’s relationship next level was most people’s entry point. She couldn’t put her life on hold waiting for something that may never happen.

All she wanted now was to go to bed, climb under her duvet, and never surface. Jonathan held her hand but kept silent. Was it out of consideration for her supposed headache or was he realizing this relationship was doomed as well?

She needed to make sure she had a life to go to when this all fell apart.

Olivia scraped a stuck-on Cheerio off the table. What the hell was in these things? Industrial glue? In addition to breakfast cereal removal, she’d done more washing in the past few months than she had in years. Models had nothing on toddlers when it came to the frequency with which they changed their outfits. Then there were the sticky surfaces to clean and endless toys to put away. Who needed the gym when they spent their day chasing an almost-two-year-old around the house?

Her phone rang and she snatched it up, pleased at the prospect of some adult conversation. Heck, even a telemarketer might get five minutes of her time today. Excitement and guilt battled within her as she saw it was her agent calling. Was it wrong to want just a little bit of her own life even though she’d promised Jonathan three months?

“Darling, you are a genius. Pure brilliance. Take yourself off the market so no one has seen you for a while. Then appear in a vintage designer dress standing next to one of Britain’s most eligible bachelors, and get your photo in every newspaper, online celebrity magazine, and gossip site in Europe. I couldn’t have staged it better myself. My phone has been ringing off the hook all morning.”

Olivia turned down the volume on the phone. Her agent had a loud voice at the best of times, but when Maxine was animated, it was like a foghorn. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about the biggest break your career is ever likely to get. You have to come back on the market. Right now. I have bookings for you into next summer. I see Victoria’s Secret and
Sports Illustrated
in your future. Come to the studio tomorrow at two and bring that dress. We have to update your portfolio.
Ciao
, darling.”

“Maxine, wait. I can’t.” The pressure in her chest was so intense she dragged in two deep breaths before she could continue. It was the excitement, wasn’t it? “I can’t come tomorrow. Jonathan flew to Hong Kong this morning and I can’t leave Hannah.”

“This is your career we’re talking about, Olivia. I think you need to get your priorities straight. Find someone else to look after the kid. Do you want me to send Rachel over?”

Rachel was her agent’s receptionist who sometimes couldn’t find the phone. Olivia shuddered to think how she’d manage Hannah. “No. I … I just can’t at the moment, Maxine. I’ll give you a call next week.”

Her agent released an aggravated sigh. “All right, how about this? I send the photographer to you. I’ve got meetings with a huge client this weekend, and I must have these shots to show him.”

Hannah usually took a two-hour nap. If they were quick, this could work. She could even get a few professional pictures taken of Hannah as a gift to Jonathan and his family. “Okay. Tell him to come here at two. You have my new address?”

After confirming the details, Olivia put the phone down. If she believed in signs, the call from her agent read “Exit Here” in bold, capital letters.

Her phone rang again and Jonathan’s number came up. She didn’t trust her voice to work, so she let it go to voicemail. He usually called when he arrived at his destination, just a “got here safe” message. He’d ask after Hannah and her before dashing off to a meeting. He was quite considerate in that way.

She glanced over at Hannah, playing tea party with her dolls, and the pain in her chest returned. The little girl looked up, and the same cerulean blue eyes as her father smiled at her. Olivia felt like she’d just been stabbed in the heart.

How could she leave?

• • •

Jonathan was exhausted, frustrated, and annoyed as hell. He trudged through the pouring rain, soaked from head to foot. His umbrella had blown inside out and was completely useless in the wind. He could have waited forty-five minutes for a taxi but chose to walk the ten blocks from the Tube. A fifteen-minute walk, even in this deluge, seemed the better option to see Olivia and Hannah half an hour sooner.

He hadn’t spoken to Olivia in three days—since the night of the exhibition at the Tate. He’d left voice messages on her phone, which she’d responded to with texts saying everything was all right. Except he had a sinking feeling that it wasn’t.

And of course he’d gone to bed every night with the vision of her in the gold dress, eliminating any possibility of sleep.

Tomorrow they were to travel north for his sister’s wedding. Tonight was the only time he’d have alone with Olivia. They were halfway through their three-month trial and he needed to know what she felt about the future.

His heart lifted as he walked into his drive; the lights were on in the kitchen and the porch. He was home.

As he stepped into the hallway, hung his dripping coat on the stand, and kicked off his sodden shoes, he heard Hannah’s tinkle of laughter. Despite his exhaustion, he smiled. “Anyone missing a daddy?” he called out.

A delighted shriek preceded tiny feet that sounded like a herd of elephants on the hardwood floor. How such a little thing could make so much noise he had yet to figure out.

“Daddy! Daddy!” Hannah launched herself at him and he caught her mid-bound. She squeezed him tight and kissed his cold cheek, warming him from the inside. He returned the embrace and then took a deep breath, preparing for the bolt of desire that always shot through him whenever he saw Olivia. Turning his gaze from his daughter, he was shocked to find a young man in the kitchen doorway and not Olivia.

“Hello, Mr. Davis. I’m James Stephens, Sophia’s brother.”

His stomach fell to his knees, joined milliseconds later by his heart. “Olivia? Is she okay? Where is she?” Panic seized him.

“Daddy, ow,” Hannah protested. He looked down and realized he’d been squeezing her little leg. He rubbed it and gave her a kiss in apology.

“Olivia is fine,” James hurried to reassure him. “She got called into work and asked me to look after Hannah until you got back.”

Work? She worked for him, didn’t she? Not that he’d ever considered her an employee. The contract had simply been a way to appease his conscience that he wasn’t taking advantage of her generosity.

“I was just about to give Hannah her dinner. If you come into the kitchen, I’ll explain,” James continued.

Hannah wiggled in his arms and he put her down. A stab of jealousy ripped into him as Hannah slipped her hand into James’s and walked with him into the kitchen. Both females in his life had deserted him in one night.

“Would you mind starting at the beginning? I’m sorry, I don’t know anything about you.” Surely Olivia wouldn’t leave Hannah with just anybody.

James dished some pasta onto a plastic plate for Hannah and then helped her into her booster seat. “I’ve known Olivia for years. As I said, she and my sister are best friends. Then when Dad and I were visiting Sophia in Italy in the summer, we met Hannah. I think you were here in London.”

Jonathan nodded. He remembered now Olivia mentioning that some of Sophia’s family had come to visit. But that still didn’t explain James’s presence in his home.

“So, when Olivia called and asked if I could look after Hannah until you came home, I jumped at the chance to play with my little friend again.” He smiled at Hannah and then made a silly face, causing her to giggle.

“Well, thank you for taking such good care of my daughter. Would you mind hanging around for a few more minutes while I get out of these wet clothes and have a shower?”

“Sure, no problem. Actually, if you want to go watch Olivia, I don’t mind staying longer,” James offered.

“Watch her? Where is she?” Ignorance did not sit well with him.

“On the catwalk. She got a call to model at a charity fashion show.”

• • •

Olivia turned her key in the lock and let out a sigh of relief. She’d done a bit of catwalk work before. But she’d forgotten the absolute exhaustion of being pulled, prodded, and stuffed into one outrageous outfit after another in a timeframe only Superman could accomplish. Even after the show, it had taken another hour to take off the makeup and return her hair to its normal unmanageable state.

All she wanted was to see Jonathan, kiss Hannah, and fall into her bed. Well, that wasn’t all she wanted, but it was all she was going to allow herself.

The photo shoot with the photographer yesterday had gone amazingly well. He’d been delighted with the house, claiming it lent authenticity to the vintage nature of her gown. Hannah, too, had loved having her photo taken and the five or six shots Olivia had originally envisaged had turned into fifty. Hannah obviously had some of her mother in her after all.

A package of proofs had arrived this afternoon, but aside from a cursory look at a few of Hannah’s pictures, she’d left them in the snug to have a closer look at later. She hadn’t had time because just before four, a designer friend had called in a panic.