Her One and Only (25 page)

‘I remember how much she loved the one I found for my sister Laura,’ Guy agreed, ‘and when Didi said that this one had come in I thought of Katie and her new apartment straightaway. When does she actually move in, by the way? I know that Seb has terminated the lease on his rented property and that he intends to start living in his apartment on his return from this conference he’s gone to.’

‘Katie said that she’d like to move in as soon as she can and, of course, now that she and Seb are seeing one another I imagine she’ll want to move in when he does.’

‘Katie and Seb?’ Guy whistled soundlessly. ‘I hadn’t
realised
...’ he began and then shook his head.

‘Neither had I,’ Jenny admitted. ‘But Katie confided in Louise and Louise mentioned it to me without realising that Katie hadn’t said anything yet herself.’

‘A Cooke and a Crighton...that will cause something of a stir. Ben isn’t going to like it. How is he, by the way...?’

‘Not too good, I’m afraid,’ Jenny told him worriedly. ‘Maddy says he’s becoming increasingly distressed about David’s absence—we don’t use the word “disappearance” around Ben, we never have done, it upsets him so much. You know how much he’s always thought of David. He was always the favoured son.’

‘Mmm... If you ask me, that was probably the root of
David’s problem. It wasn’t just that Ben had such high expectations of him, it was that he gave David the belief that he had the right to expect the world to place him on the same pedestal his father had done. Well, personally, I can’t see how he could ever come back.’

‘It wouldn’t be easy,’ Jenny admitted, ‘for any of us. But I can’t help wishing for Ben’s sake if nothing else that he would at least get in touch with us... In truth, Guy, I’m afraid that if David leaves it too much longer it could well be too late,’ she told him sombrely. ‘The doctors say there’s no valid reason why Ben shouldn’t have made a much better recovery from his last operation than he has. In theory he’s got every reason to have done so. Just on the basis of the dedicated nursing Maddy’s given him, and we had all hoped that having Max based in Chester and living permanently at Queensmead would help—you know that after David, Max has always been his favourite.’

‘But Max isn’t the person he originally was any longer, is he? Max is much more Jon’s son now than he’s David’s nephew.’

‘Yes. As Max himself would be the first to say, what he went through in Jamaica was very much a “Saul on the road to Damascus” conversion for him.’ The seriousness left Jenny’s eyes and she laughed, explaining to Guy, ‘Little Leo must have heard his father using that particular phrase himself because he asked Max what his Uncle Saul was doing on the road to Damascus.’

When they had both finished laughing, Guy went over and patted the desk they had been admiring and told Jenny in amusement, ‘Perhaps I should keep this and present it to Katie as a wedding present.

‘Seb’s a good man,’ he told her reassuringly. ‘Very highly principled, which will suit Katie.’

Having confirmed to Jenny that he would keep the desk for her daughter, Guy went home to tell his wife that they might shortly expect to be celebrating another wedding in the family.

‘Seb and Katie. Oh, that’s wonderful,’ Chrissie enthused. ‘Charlotte will be thrilled. She’s really taken to Katie,’ she added, reiterating Louise’s comment to her mother earlier.

Meanwhile, totally unaware of the future being mapped out for them, the two supposed lovers were both independently going about their daily business.

Katie had a busy day filled with appointments all morning and an appearance at court in the afternoon, while Seb was on his way to attend a large conference on the moral implications resulting from the giant strides forward the scientific world was currently making in the field of genetics.

Seb’s last telephone call before he had left had been to the interior designer, giving her the go-ahead on the designs she had submitted to him. He would be gone less than a week but she had assured him that, given her contacts, enough of the work would be completed to enable him to move into the apartment on his return.

The conference was being held in Florida. Not an ideal venue so far as Seb was concerned, not with the long flight involved. Closing his eyes he settled back in his seat, preparing to go to sleep using a relaxation technique he had perfected over the years, but for once neither his mind nor his body were prepared to respond to the commands he was giving them. Instead, behind his closed eyelids, an image formed of the last person he wanted to think about.

Infuriatingly, instead of achieving his normal Zen-like state of pre-sleep calm, Katie Crighton’s features kept forming themselves in a series of intimate pictures, the most disconcerting of which set Katie’s eyes and hair and mouth in the tousled-haired solemn-expressioned face of a small boy child.

‘Oh, no. Oh, no way, no way at all.’

Seb wasn’t aware that he had muttered his denial out aloud until he saw the curious look the man in the adjacent seat was giving him.

Scientifically he knew it was totally impossible for anyone to ‘see’ into the future—true, they
could
make accurate assumptions based on the hard evidence of given facts—and it was perhaps predictable that the gypsy woman should have assumed that he and Katie were a couple and therefore, that she should at some stage bear his child, but there had been something, not so much about her predictions, but about the woman herself, that had touched an almost primeval chord inside him.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. All right, why not acknowledge it—
admit
it to himself, he
did
want Katie. Sexually she pressed buttons he had forgotten he had long ago, if in fact he had ever known.

Sex for him, while a pleasurable experience, had never driven him, never obsessed him, never
possessed
him as it did some men. Because his awareness of how people viewed Cooke men and their supposedly uncontrollable sexuality had subconsciously made him determined that he would not just rise above the low expectations people had of his family academically, but also determined to rise above the taint of their notorious sexual profligacy.

It was because of that that he had insisted on corralling his youthfully sexual desire for Sandra within the acceptable,
respectable
confines of marriage. Time and experience might have shown him the foolishness of that, but he had never again allowed his sexual desire to get out of control or indeed to have any real input into his life.

Since he had passed thirty he had come to consider himself as a man who had the maturity and the ability to treat the sexual side of his nature as less important to him and with less value to his life than the cerebral satisfaction it gave him to distance himself from any power it might have threatened to have over him.

Now, irritatingly, ridiculously, here he was at thirty-eight discovering that, far from being a thoroughly tamed and unimportant facet of his nature, it had become an out of control hydra-headed monster that sprouted ten new heads for every one he destroyed. Right now, for instance, he had gone from visualising Katie to remembering how it had felt to kiss her; how soft and warm her skin had felt, her breast...how betrayingly her nipple had pulsed and her breathing quickened...how betrayingly, too, she had flushed and looked away, unable to meet his eyes when the gypsy had spouted all that rubbish about them being a couple. Oh, yes, she was as physically and intimately aware of
him
as
he
was of her, although he doubted that she had gone as far as entertaining,
envisaging
, the kind of sexual fantasies about him that were plaguing him about her.

Charlotte had been conceived by accident, the result of a missed birth control pill, her conception something neither he nor Sandra had recognised until several weeks later. But if he was to father a child
now
, he would want to
know
it,
sense
it,
feel
it, share with Katie the knowledge that the heat of their passion had ignited the spark that was life.

What the
hell
was he doing...thinking? Catching the passing stewardess’s eye, Seb ordered the drink he had refused earlier. He must be suffering from some kind of altitude sickness. Either that or that damned gypsy had put some kind of spell on him. Disbelievingly he closed his eyes. Now he knew he was
really
losing it. Spells, predictions...these were things that belonged to the superstitious, the Middle Ages, to a time when people had still believed that the world was flat. He was a scientist, for heaven’s sake.

CHAPTER SEVEN

‘I
T
’
S
BEGINNING
TO
look like home already.’

Whirling round Katie hugged her mother gratefully.

Jenny had just spent the best part of the afternoon hanging the curtains she and Maddy had made for Katie’s sitting room.

‘This damask really looks wonderful,’ Jenny murmured, adding feelingly, ‘Mind you, it was murder to sew... I’ve been trying to persuade your father that we ought to give the drawing room a face-lift and this fabric would be perfect.’

‘Mmm...it even looks as though it could be antique,’ Katie enthused. ‘And I love this soft gold colour.’

‘Mmm... Maddy has a very good eye. It goes perfectly with your carpet.’

The carpet which had been fitted throughout the apartment was like the curtain fabric, a bargain tracked down by Maddy. Originally ordered by another customer and dyed to her specification, the order had been cancelled when the customer had decided at the last minute that she wanted a different colour.

Her expensive mistake had been Katie’s lucky bargain. The soft, pale gold plain wool might not have been to everyone’s taste, nor particularly practical, but as both Maddy and Jenny had reassured her she was hardly likely to have much dirt trodden into it living in a top floor apartment.

It had been at Maddy’s suggestion that Katie had been persuaded to spend what she had considered to be a very large sum of money on a wallpaper border to go beneath the room’s elegant coving. The border, formal swags of gold on a cream background, was, Katie had to admit, perfect with the carpet and curtains and she had liked Maddy’s suggestion, too, that she might stencil rope tassels on either side of the chimney.

However, rather than employ a decorator, she had decided to paste them up herself. An old sofa, again unearthed by Maddy from the attics at Queensmead, was currently being re-upholstered and the bits of furniture which her parents had donated were already in place, along with the double bed she had bought.

‘I’ve hung the old curtains from the guest bedroom at home in your bedroom for now. They’ll do until you find a fabric you like. Come and have a look at them.’

As Katie followed her mother into her bedroom Jenny looked at the bed and remarked dryly, ‘Wouldn’t a king-sized one have been better? I know your father always complained that our old double was too small and Seb’s a good inch or so taller than him.’

Speechlessly Katie stared at her mother, the colour draining from her face.

‘Louise told me,’ Jenny said gently.

‘Louise
told
you,’ Katie croaked in shock. ‘Louise told you about...’

‘...about you and Seb. Yes,’ her mother confirmed.

Walking over to Katie she put her arms around her and hugged her tenderly.

‘I’m so pleased for you, darling. I didn’t want to say anything but...well, I know these last couple of years haven’t been very happy ones for you. Of course, your grandfather isn’t exactly thrilled, not with Seb being a Cooke, but then I’m sure that Seb will be more than a match for Ben. You’ve both been summoned to present yourselves to him at his party, needless to say.’

Katie had to sit down. Why?
Why
hadn’t she cautioned Louise not to say anything?
Why
hadn’t she realised what would happen if she didn’t? This was dreadful. Awful. Worse than the very worst possible nightmare she could ever have conjured up. Worse than Louise discovering that you love Gareth? an inner voice demanded grittily. No, not worse than that. With this, the only person who would be hurt would be her. What on earth was she
going
to do? Thank
goodness
Seb was safely out of the way, out of the country. Somehow she was going to have to find the courage to tell her mother that Louise had got it wrong—and before Seb came back.

Taking a deep breath she closed her eyes and then said shakily, ‘Mum...’

But it was too late; her mother was already speaking. ‘When I told Guy, he wasn’t sure whether or not he ought to keep the desk for a wedding present, but...’

‘Guy knows...’ Katie interrupted her hollowly.

Her mother nodded her head.

‘Mmm... Apparently Chrissie wasn’t all that surprised...’

Silently Katie looked at her mother, totally unable to find the words to express the enormity of the situation she was in.

Guy knew!

Chrissie knew!

Everyone
, it seemed, knew that she had told her twin that she and Seb were in love. Lovers, in fact, to judge from her mother’s unexpectedly frank comment about her double bed earlier...

Everyone... Everyone
except
Seb. A feeling of sick panic filled her. What was she going to do? Even if she told her mother the truth now, it was far too late to stop what was going on getting to Seb’s ears. Even if she admitted, retracted, everything, he was bound to hear something. Heaven alone knew how many people were already involved.

She could plead with her own family for silence and, yes, even with Guy and Chrissie, but they were in almost daily contact with Guy’s family. Guy’s family, like Seb’s, were Cookes.

Katie could almost see news of their supposed relationship spreading and gathering momentum as it did so, so that she could easily envisage some distant Cooke connection working at the airport who might greet Seb with the news of his impending marriage to her on his arrival back in the country.

She was beginning, Katie decided, to feel extremely ill, and she could well understand what had prompted Victorian women to go into a decline. If only there had been some convenient convent, preferably one belonging to a silent order, for her to disappear into.

‘Heavens, is that the time? I
must
go,’ her mother was saying. ‘Your father will be wondering where on earth I am.’

Weakly Katie got up and accompanied her mother to the door. Once she had gone, Katie walked into her immaculate, hand-painted, newly finished kitchen. She had never been much of a drinker but right now she was badly in need of something restorative and courage-boosting. The only alcohol she had though was the moving-in gift of half a dozen bottles of good wine from her father.

This was all the fault of that woman. If
she
hadn’t made that prediction... Reluctantly Katie forced herself to acknowledge that she was being unfair. The blame lay fairly and squarely on her own shoulders, firstly for having involved Seb and secondly for not correcting Louise. Now her own weaknesses were being held over her head like a veritable sword of Damocles, waiting, not so much to fall but to be brought down on her unprotected neck by the full weight of Seb’s fury.

In the meantime she might as well occupy herself unpacking and putting away her possessions.

Several hours later she was just closing the last of the drawers in her bedroom, the scent of the lavender bags she had placed among her things making her smile ruefully.

The lavender was from her mother’s garden and just to smell it evoked memories of hers and Louise’s childhood.

If there could be a silver lining to the leaden weight of the cloud threatening her then it had to be the closing of the rift which had sprung up between her and Louise.

Seeing Gareth had hurt as it always did, but oddly this time, the hurt had been less intense, more a soft ache rather than a sharp agony, her daydreams of him as her lover somehow dulled and put out of focus by the far stronger acid-sharp bite of the sensual passion she had felt for Seb.

But that had just been sex and she loved Gareth... Loved...past tense... Katie started to frown.

* * *

T
HE
CONFERENCE
HAD
been very demanding, they always were, but normally Seb found such concentration challenging and adrenalin-releasing, a recharge. This time, concentrating on the speeches had been hard work and yet, conversely, he somehow hadn’t been able to give them his full attention, his thoughts constantly performing clever tricks to take him where he didn’t want to go.

Katie Crighton!

By now she would no doubt have moved into her apartment where she would be his closet neighbour, where they would be living as intimately as though...

Abruptly Seb put a clamp on his thoughts. His mood, already affected detrimentally by what he considered to be his own weakness, hadn’t been improved by the long flight nor the delay waiting for his luggage at Manchester.

Guy, who had offered to pick him up from the airport, saw him coming out of the Arrivals hall. He went to meet him, exclaiming, ‘Cheer up. Mind you, I suppose you’d much rather have had Katie picking you up than me.’

Stopping abruptly—so abruptly that the man behind him almost walked into him—Seb demanded sharply, ‘Katie! What?’

‘Mmm... The pair of you have created
quite
a stir
I
can tell you. A Cooke marrying a Crighton... Chrissie’s got Crighton blood, too, of course, but she isn’t a “Crighton Crighton”. I’d have loved to have seen old Ben’s face when they gave him the news. Jenny says he’s demanding that the pair of you put in an appearance at his party.’

Quickly Seb assimilated what Guy was saying and then demanded ominously, ‘Are you telling me that the whole town...?’

‘...knows that you and Katie are an item? Yes, I’m afraid so,’ Guy agreed ruefully. ‘That’s what comes of being a member of such a large extended family. I wouldn’t even think of trying to deny it if I were you,’ Guy counselled him with a grin. ‘The females of the family are already planning a mass exodus to Chester to hunt for wedding outfits.

‘Pity the pair of you had agreed to buy your apartments before you declared your feelings for one another. It could be hard work for Katie with a baby carriage up and down those stairs, especially if our gypsy relative has got it wrong and her “one” turns out to be “two”,’ Guy told him with a wicked grin, adding mock-sagely, ‘After all
someone
has to be the first to provide the Crightons with the next generation’s pair of twins.’

‘Twins.’ Seb frowned.

‘Yes, twins, you know, two babies who are identical to one another,’ Guy told him helpfully, tongue in cheek. ‘Twins like your Katie and Louise. According to Jenny it was Louise who wheedled it out of Katie about the two of you.

‘Mind you,
I
can’t say too much,’ Guy confessed. ‘Chrissie and I fell in love virtually at first glance. Have you told Charlotte yet?’

‘Er...no...she’s away on a field trip at the moment,’ Seb told him. Just what was going on...what the
hell
was Katie playing at? Was this some sort of crazy scheme she had dreamed up to punish him for kissing her, touching her...making it public that they were supposed to be a couple and then equally publicly dropping him? She was a Crighton after all, a member of a family who, historically, considered themselves to be a cut above everyone else, and
he
was a Cooke, a member of a family who equally historically had been considered to be the lowest of the low.

An hour later, when Guy dropped him off outside the house he was renting, it was late evening. Unlocking the door Seb picked up the pile of mail off the mat.

He felt tired and irritated and in need of a shower, but more than any of that...

Taking the stairs two at a time he opened his bedroom door and quickly stripped off his clothes.

Florida had been hot and humid and he’d remained pretty much in the air-conditioned hotels, but the colour of his skin had still darkened slightly. He was naturally olive-skinned like Guy, and as he stood under the shower and soaped his body, the muscles in his arms and back stood out beneath his flesh.

While he towelled himself dry he replayed the messages on his answer machine. There was one from the interior designer telling him that the apartment was finished and ready for him to move into, as they had agreed.

Seb frowned as he reached out and switched off the machine. By rights what he ought to do if he had any sense was make himself a light supper and then go straight to bed. He was jet-lagged and in no mood to behave calmly or logically, so why, he asked himself sardonically half an hour later, if he knew that, why was he right now in his car heading for the apartment, knowing that Katie had moved into hers?

He had every right to demand an explanation, he justified to himself, and he fully intended to do so.

* * *

K
ATIE
HAD
HAD
a very difficult day. One of her clients had been so late for his appointment with her she had had to go without any lunch break or even a cup of coffee in order to catch up, and then in the afternoon when she arrived in court, she had discovered that some of the papers she needed were missing and consequently she had been faced with the embarrassment of asking the judge for a postponement and that had not gone down well.

Add to that the fact that her car exhaust had disintegrated on the drive home from Chester and Katie felt it was no wonder that all she wanted was some peace and quiet and an early night.

She was soaking in the bath trying to relax the tension out of her shoulders when she heard the faint shrill of her intercom.

Cursing under her breath she climbed out of the bath, grabbing a towel on her way as she padded damply towards the intercom, flicking the switch and saying tiredly, ‘Yes. Who is it?’

‘Seb Cooke.’

Seb! Seb was
back
. Panic squeezed the breath out of her lungs, rendering her incapable of making any kind of verbal response.

‘Katie.’ Seb’s voice was ominously charged with quiet fury.

‘I was just on my way to bed,’ she told him, not untruthfully, even while her conscience warned her that she was being a coward and that by far the most sensible and responsible thing to do was to see him and explain what had happened... Explain...! If only it was
that
easy.

She closed her eyes and then opened them again as she heard Seb saying softly, ‘On your way to bed. Well, how very appropriate...in view of our...relationship...’