Covet (36 page)

Ian laughed as she rolled her eyes in disgust, knowing that Rebecca was one of the most independent, self-sufficient women he’d ever known, and that she disdained the very thought of having to rely on a man to look out for her.

“Very well,” he relented. “Especially since I can see your guard dog on the other side of the doors. Thank you for your company this evening, Rebecca. It’s always a pleasure.”

“You, too, Ian. And I’ll see you weekend after next, correct? For the next meeting of the Lonely Hearts Club,” she joked. He had agreed to escort her to a charity event that Golden Gate Bank, of which Rebecca was the president, was sponsoring.

He grinned as he bent to give her a brief peck on the cheek. “I’ll look forward to it. What are your plans for the weekend?”

Her smile faded. “You won’t like them, I’m sure.”

Ian sighed. “Flying halfway across the country to spend a few hours with him, are you?”

Rebecca had the good graces to look penitent. “Yes,” she admitted reluctantly. “Though only as far as Arizona. Rand is speaking at a conference there, and staying overnight. And since he’s coming alone – well, it’s an opportunity to spend a night with him.”

He shook his head. “I won’t comment on something I don’t really understand, Rebecca. Especially since you’re a grown woman, even older than I am, and you don’t need advice from me on how to run your life. I’m guessing you receive plenty of that from your sisters and best friend.”

She gave a half-smile. “I think by now they’ve all given up on me, Ian. They know nothing and nobody is going to stop me from going to him whenever it’s possible. So, no. Nothing you do or don’t say is going to make a bit of difference. But thank you for caring.”

“I’m always available if you ever want to talk about it.”

Rebecca shook her dark head. “Talking doesn’t do a bit of good, believe me.” She paused with her hand on the door before gazing up at him quizzically. “I’m curious, though. If you were in my situation with – well, let’s just call her your mystery woman since you’ve never actually told me her name – what would you have done?”

Ian frowned. “Frankly, I would never have allowed a situation like this to develop in the first place. I would never have been willing to share her with another man, or to carry on a forbidden affair with her. I’m too selfish, for one thing, and too proud.”

She sighed. “And too moral as well. I’d better go up before you start becoming a good influence on me and I cancel my flight to Phoenix. I’ll be in touch, Ian.”

He watched as she entered the lobby and greeted the night doorman with a bright smile. The older, white-haired man seemed extremely fond of the pretty, personable Rebecca and made quite a show of escorting her towards the elevators. Assured that she was in good hands, Ian slid back inside the Town Car for the drive home.

Ironically, well before he had ever met Rebecca, he had briefly considered purchasing a condo in this very building. When he had first moved to San Francisco, the realtor he’d engaged had shown him a wide variety of properties, from condos and townhomes to single family houses of varying sizes. But the idea of living in what he deemed an oversized apartment hadn’t appealed to him in the least, perhaps because he’d spent so much time staying in company hotels over the years. The owners suites at each hotel were extremely large, often with two master suites, a living room, formal dining room, office, and full kitchen. The suite at the San Francisco hotel, for example, was more than twice the size of Rebecca’s condo. In London, he’d lived in a spacious, three story townhouse, but had wanted something quite different here in San Francisco.

The red brick, Georgian style mansion that was now his home had called to him from the moment he’d stepped inside. It was a huge place, much, much bigger than he needed, but none of that had mattered to Ian. The place had simply felt like home to him, reminiscent in some ways of his parents’ residence in Kent. And despite its size and grandeur, the house had felt warm and welcoming to him, with character and charm in every room.

He largely ignored how lonely the big house was, including this evening as he let himself in the front door. In his mind, he envisioned a residence filled with happy voices and laughter, imagined how the emptiness would quickly disappear with the presence of a wife and several young children running about the place. Despite his formal, rather austere mannerisms, Ian had always wanted a family of his own, at least a couple of children, and a partner he could share his life with. He thought about Rebecca’s comment earlier this evening – that it certainly wasn’t too late for him to still have that family he quietly longed for.

What Rebecca didn’t know was that unless that family was with Tessa, the hope of ever having it was as unrealistic as shooting the moon.

Tessa sighed as she gazed out the front doors of the office building, and resolutely belted her insubstantial raincoat a little tighter about her waist. It was raining a whole lot harder than it had been at lunch time, when she’d dashed out for a quick fifteen minute break. The wind was howling fiercely as well, which meant using her cheap umbrella would be pretty much useless. But there was really no hope for it, she told herself in resignation. The longer she continued to seek shelter here in the warm, well-lit lobby the higher the chance she’d miss the next bus and be forced to wait outside in the elements that much longer.

It had been a lousy day all around, she realized as she braced herself to face the pounding rain and blustery wind. A lousy
month
if she was being completely honest. She’d seen very little of Peter for the past few months, his assignments in the Far East seeming to take up more and more of his time these days. They had spent Thanksgiving together, having been invited to dinner at the home of one of his co-workers, and then Peter had flown out two days later for a nearly month-long trip to Japan and Taiwan.

She had skipped the office holiday party since he’d been away, and she hadn’t wanted to go alone. Tessa had never particularly enjoyed Christmas growing up, mostly because the holidays had always seemed to bring out the worst in Gillian. She knew that her mother’s own upbringing had been an especially unhappy one, and had always assumed that Gillian associated times like Thanksgiving and Christmas with some of her worst childhood memories.

But when she and Peter had married and eventually moved into their own place, Tessa had resolved to start over and do her very best to make Christmas a happy time for the two of them. She’d bought inexpensive decorations, baked cookies, played holiday music, and even hung stockings – though they had never lived anywhere with a fireplace or mantle. On Christmas Day she had cooked an extra special meal, and she and Peter had exchanged small gifts with each other. It hadn’t been anything like the merry festivities she’d seen in movies and on TV shows, but it was a start towards normalcy for both of them.

Except that this year Peter had been gone for almost the entire month of December, returning a scant three days before Christmas, and Tessa had done all of the decorating, baking, and shopping by herself. And Peter hadn’t been in much of a mood to appreciate any of it, given that he’d returned home with a bad case of bronchitis and spent most of the day in bed.

He’d been home for barely ten days before flying out again, this time to Singapore and Indonesia, and Tessa didn’t expect him back for at least another week. The assignments that had initially lasted two to three weeks in duration had gradually lengthened into four to five weeks. And when he was gone he didn’t email her as often as before, so that sometimes almost an entire week would go by without any word from him.

But when he did eventually get in touch with her, he always sounded so excited about the places he’d seen and the people he’d met that Tessa hadn’t had the heart to complain about his lack of communication. He had warned her after all, she’d reminded herself sternly, about what it would be like, had given her the choice more than once about following him to San Francisco. So she kept her feelings to herself, and continued to offer Peter support and encouragement rather than whine like a spoiled child about being neglected.

She was practically soaked to the skin within a minute of exiting the building, her long hair clinging to her face and neck in wet, heavy strands. She shivered as the wind whipped through her raincoat, a lightweight beige garment that she’d bought at a thrift store after moving to San Francisco. It did precious little to keep her either warm or dry, but after a recent rent hike their budget really didn’t allow for her to buy anything nicer.

As she hurried to the bus stop, hoping that the bus would actually arrive on time tonight, she accidentally stepped into a puddle. Tessa truly felt like crying at that point, with a soaked shoe and stocking, and couldn’t remember a time in recent years when she had felt quite so miserable. She was wet and cold and exhausted after a particularly stressful day at work, and knowing that she’d be returning home to a lonely apartment only made matters worse.

Maybe Peter was right, she thought despondently. Maybe she should finally accept that their marriage was something of a joke, and that the only reason she hadn’t allowed him to pursue a divorce was because of her fears about being alone. A divorce would certainly mean that she’d be truly alone, but it would also present her with the opportunity to find someone else – someone who wouldn’t be on the other side of the world four weeks out of every six; someone who’d be a real partner to her, who could satisfy her sexually and eventually get her pregnant, giving her the child and family she’d always longed for.

But not just yet, she told herself. She wasn’t ready for that right now. She needed more time to prepare herself emotionally, to build up enough confidence to be on her own, take care of herself, make decisions. She’d made good progress, she realized, was coping reasonably well during Peter’s lengthy absences. It had been several months since she’d slumped into depression, and she had worked very hard to keep herself busy and remain positive. But if she was being completely honest with herself, Tessa admitted, there was still a lot more she had to do before she could feel confident about being on her own.

The bus was more than ten minutes late, and by that time she felt like a drowned rat, so cold and wet that she feared she’d never get warm again. As she waited to board the bus along with a couple of dozen other equally wet, tired riders, Tessa half-jokingly looked around for that nonexistent knight in shining armor to ride up on his white steed and rescue her. Or, in this particular case, drive up in his warm, comfy car and offer her a ride home.

She shook her head in disgust as it was her turn to board the jam-packed bus, wondering why she still bothered to believe in silly fairy tales. There were no knights, no princes, and nobody was ever going to come and rescue this particular damsel in distress, not even Peter. It was time, she realized wearily, to start saving herself.

“Good Lord, it’s rotten weather out there tonight, mate,” declared Ian as he slid gratefully inside the warm, dry interior of the Town Car.

From the front seat Simon nodded in agreement. “That it is, Mr. Gregson. An ideal night to sit in front of a roaring fire with a good book and a glass of Scotch.”

Ian grinned. “A man after my own heart, Simon. And not a bad idea. In fact, I’ll likely follow your advice as soon as I get home.”

It had been a long, particularly stressful day at the office, and he was grateful he’d had the foresight to hit the gym early this morning. Even someone as disciplined about his workouts as Ian would have been hard pressed to find the motivation to exercise right now, given the rather hellish day it had been.

At least, he thought grimly, he didn’t have to stand out in the pouring rain and howling wind like the couple of dozen people he saw gathered at the bus stop on the corner. He felt more than a little guilty that he was comfortably ensconced inside the Town Car, and that he didn’t even have to worry about driving home in rush hour traffic. Simon, fortunately, was probably the calmest, most competent driver Ian had ever met, and never seemed to mind driving in such conditions. He knew that his quiet, capable chauffeur had spent more than three decades serving in the British Army, and that for at least part of that time had driven tanks and other armored vehicles. Ian supposed that maneuvering a luxury automobile through San Francisco’s congested downtown streets was child’s play in comparison.

The car was stopped at a red light as he continued to gaze outside, watching as the heavy rain lashed the window noisily. As he glanced sympathetically at the sodden crowd waiting for their bus to arrive, he gave a start as he realized that one of the poor bedraggled souls was Tessa. A soaking wet, shivering, and visibly miserable Tessa.

He was instantly filled with fury that she could find herself in such a state, that her husband allowed her to travel home on public transportation in such appalling weather conditions. She should be taking a taxi home, or a ride service like Lyft or Uber, and not getting soaked to the skin waiting for an overcrowded bus. Angrily, he guessed that Tessa wouldn’t want to spend the money on a taxi or private car, and that her husband didn’t earn enough money to take proper care of a treasure like her.