Paradise Found (3 page)

All in all, anything on a grand scale had seemed pointless to her. But when she hinted at this, Nerissa had practically gone into a state of shock, saying that it wasn't fair to deprive her of the glory of a full-scale wedding. She had looked down her nose, as if there was something improper in Zoe's wish to slide quietly through the big day. And anyway, Nerissa had protested, even if Zoe only had a
modest
handful of guests she wished to invite, her own large circle of friends would make the numbers up.

‘Yes, I'm glad you talked me into it, Mrs. Talbot.'

‘I knew you would be. Mothers always know best,' Nerissa came back, not seeming to notice the hollowness of Zoe's tone. ‘And now, dear, I'll let you get your beauty sleep. Can't have you looking less than radiant.'

Nerissa rang off then. Sighing, Zoe prepared for bed, knowing full well that she wasn't going to be able to sleep. Tony's dislike of Matt had been obvious all along. Nerissa, while not gushing over her brother, had always been careful to cover up. She had been less attentive just now and had let her true feelings show through. And then there were her own feelings about Matt . . .

Purposefully, she tried to turn her thoughts to other matters, but the effort proved futile. Nerissa had taken most of the wedding arrangements off her hands, including sending out the invitations. At first Zoe had been a little resentful of that. It was her wedding and it seemed as though she wasn't having a hand in it. Tony had pointed out to her that because she didn't have any daughters of her own, it had always been his mother's deep regret that she would never get to arrange a wedding. ‘She would have had to stand aside if your mother had been alive, but in the circumstances it's a
pity
to deprive her, and quite frankly, darling, I think it's a little selfish of you to want to do so,' Tony had recriminated. Zoe had conceded that she supposed it was, and she had given in, if not very happily. It occurred to her now that while an invitation had been sent to Matt, it had been done so merely to observe protocol. A handsome gift had been expected, apparently, but not his presence!

A small, wry smile curved Zoe's mouth. Matt had always been unpredictable. The smile disappeared with her next thought. It had been unpredictable the way he had walked out on her five years earlier.

She had known that he must have been dating other girls at the same time as he was seeing her. He had too much sensuality in his makeup to be satisfied with what he was getting out of their relationship. There was a look about him—she had seen it again that night and remembered it vividly from before—that she had always viewed with wary fascination. A look which said he would have a voracious sexual appetite. So there would have been other women to provide what was lacking in his relationship with her. Perverse creature that she was, even though she hadn't been ready for a full sexual relationship and was glad when he turned off the heat and seemed satisfied with the way things were, she had been jealous of those suspected other women. Yet, in other ways, it had been good. They had
got
on well together. Occasionally he took an avuncular attitude, but she had thought that was a deliberate cooling process on his part should his thoughts, or desires, get too steamy, and so she had been grateful for it. Most of their time together had been too fantastic for words. Words weren't always needed. They read each other's thoughts so well that sentences often trailed off unfinished. That was why she hadn't been able to believe it, and why it had hit her so hard, when he dropped her without explanation. Even if he didn't want to see her again to tell her that it was over, he could have written, or phoned. He'd had a big cross-Continent haulage job that he said would keep him away for at least a week. He saw her the night before he left, taking her for a meal. He always took her to the best spots, but that night he really outdid himself.

It had been the last thing in elegance. She remembered sitting on a pink velvet Regency chair, and even though queening it was certainly not her style, she had felt rather regal as she sipped vintage champagne and, because she couldn't understand French, watched Matt cope with the menu. She had imbibed just a bit too freely, and she'd felt strangely exhilarated and dangerously reckless.

When he took her in his arms after driving her home she thought about the passionate Continental women he would encounter during the following week. Feminine eyes
always
followed him with explicit invitation, even when she was with him, so she could use her imagination about what happened when she wasn't there. He could be driving a truck, which he frequently did, because he was the kind of boss who liked to get out on the road and keep close contact with his men, but he would always stand separate from the crowd. All the angry warmth of her thoughts went into her response. She had always had difficulty in keeping herself in check, and it was bliss to let go and shift the onus onto him. He had kissed her in every way imaginable—and in other ways she hadn't imagined. She remembered the musky smell of him, a combination of shaving cologne and the increase of his body heat as her new warmth was discovered and explored. His tongue had traced her mouth, tasting her and testing her responses to kisses of greater depth and intensity. His hands had removed themselves from each side of her face to unbutton the bodice of her dress. She remembered the frustration of all those tiny buttons, so many of them, and then the skin of her breasts tingled as she remembered the gentle but sure touch of his fingers, the sweetness of his lips, the bolder foray of his hands sliding over her hips. He hadn't tried to make love fully to her, . . . but if he had?

It was a question she had asked herself many times since. He had seemed as shaken as
she
was when he left her, and she had expected him to get in touch with her when he came back. The week passed, then a second, and still no word from him. Eventually the strain was too much. Thinking that something had happened to him—he'd met with an accident, or he was ill—she had phoned his home number but got no reply. So then she phoned his work number. An icy-voiced female had answered; it had been the kind of voice that went with boring tweeds and no-nonsense lace-up shoes, or perhaps Zoe was prejudiced because she didn't like the things the formidable lady said. She had insisted on knowing Zoe's name before giving any information out. And then she had said, very clearly and with cutting explicitness, ‘I'm sorry, Miss Fortune, but I am instructed to say that Mr. Hunter is not available.'

Why . . . why? It had made no more sense then than it did now. If Matt didn't want her, why had he come back to torment her? Why hadn't he been decent and stayed out of the picture and let her get married to Tony with a reasonably peaceful mind?

What was she going to do now? Give up Tony, even if she could bring herself to call off the wedding at this late hour? Tony had never been anything but sweet and kind and affectionate toward her. Could she hurt him? As for his mother! . . . She swallowed. In her mind's eye she could see Nerissa throwing up
her
arms in despair. ‘How could you do this to us, Zoe?'

Did she want to give Tony up? Several relationships had started up after Matt had left her high and dry, but until Tony she had never met anyone she would have considered marrying. Irrespective of whether she had accepted Tony for the right or the wrong reasons, it was right for her to get married. She needed someone permanently there, needed a shared future.

Even if she could forgive Matt for the cruel way he had dropped her, she would never be able to trust him again. Matt had always been a loner, self-sufficient and uninterested in settling down with one person. Thinking that he might have changed—that he might have done some soul-searching and decided that he wasn't the solid fortress he imagined, that when it came down to basics he was a flesh and blood man, like every other, who needed someone—was a sure way to heartbreak.

CHAPTER TWO

It was morning. The dawn that crept into her room was as gray as her thoughts. Nothing had been resolved in her mind. It was her wedding day. She glanced across at her wedding dress. It seemed to stare back at her in recrimination,
because
she still hadn't any idea whether she would put it on or not.

She knew she had to see Tony, tell him everything, and ask him if he still wanted to go through with the wedding. After the way she had deceived him by not admitting that she knew Matt, he might not want to marry her. But if, after hearing her confession, he did, then it seemed to her that the best thing would be to let the marriage take place.

She wasn't fooling herself for one moment that Tony was of the same caliber as Matt. Tony would always need loving understanding and helpful support. But she thought they could make a go of it and enjoy a happy life together. It wouldn't be as idyllically happy as life with Matt could have been. But it was like comparing a modest diamond with a bright, shining star. One was within her reach, the other was not. Would she deny herself a normal life for a dream?

She got up, showered, and dressed. Mrs. Talbot had suggested, tentatively and hopefully, that as she would feel lost on her own in her huge rambling house, perhaps the newlyweds would care to share it with her. For once Zoe hadn't been susceptible to Tony's argument on the value of taking up his mother's kind offer. Kind to whom? She had put her foot down firmly, and now they had an apartment of their own to go to. It did not have an elevator, but the innumerable steps
that
had to be climbed to reach it and the fact that it lacked the plush comfort of Tony's home didn't matter. What counted was that it would be
their
home.

But until the wedding Tony still lived with his mother. And as she would be there, Zoe chose a sedate, if still becoming, blouse and skirt, instead of the snug-fitting jeans which she wore like a comfortable second skin and which Mrs. Talbot abhorred. Sweet in many ways, she didn't move with the times. Current trends and codes of behavior sent her eyebrows skidding up to her elegant hairline.

Normally, beyond a dab of moisturizer and perhaps a light application of lip gloss, Zoe wouldn't have bothered about makeup for a hurried morning visit, but on inspecting her face and seeing the ravages caused by the turmoil of her thoughts, she decided to use blusher on her pale cheeks and eye shadow to shift the emphasis from the purple crescents beneath her eyes. They were the color of bright sapphires, as Matt had remembered when choosing the pendant for her, so she used a soft, shimmering blue-gray. The incredible length of her lashes needed no enhancing. Luckily they were a darker shade than her hair. Nerissa had wanted her to have her bright russet hair specially styled to take an elaborate headdress, but Zoe had stuck to her decision to leave it as it was, saying that she wouldn't feel like herself and therefore
wouldn't
be comfortable otherwise, and she had found a simple half-hoop of flowers that complemented its length and simple style. Now she brushed it out until the burning highlights danced like flames; she revelled in its healthy bounce as she checked her appearance all round. Even though the inner turmoil was still there, every brick of the outside was in place—if no one looked too closely at the dark shadows under her eyes.

Nerissa was already up when Zoe arrived, and she answered the door herself. Usually it was the maid who did that chore.

‘Zoe!' Nerissa's pale hazel eyes signaled her alarm. ‘What is it?'

‘It's nothing, honestly. At least, nothing to worry about,' Zoe said as Nerissa widened the door to let her enter. ‘I just have to see Tony.'

Nerissa Talbot was a tall woman, claiming three inches more than Zoe's five feet five. Even at that early hour she was immaculately turned out in a trim dress of multicolored checks and presented a fresh morning image. Her fine hair was beautifully coiffed for the wedding, but then, it always had that ‘just set' look. Her skin was fairer than either Matt's or Tony's, but she bore them a strong family resemblance, though her features were slightly softened by her femininity. She was considerably older than Matt; Zoe judged her to be in her late forties, possibly even fifty. Not in the whole of their acquaintance had Zoe
thought
of her as being a hard woman, until that moment.

A hint of color touched Nerissa's cheekbones as she said, ‘That's not possible, Zoe.'

‘I know you think it's unlucky for us to see one another before we get to church, and I wouldn't offend your principles if it wasn't important. Please, it will only take a moment or two, and then—'

‘It isn't that. The fact is'—Nerissa bit her lip and looked troubled, then sighed, realizing the futility of withholding information, although her admission came with extreme reluctance—‘you can't see Tony because he isn't here.'

‘Not here? Where is he then?'

‘I don't know. I wanted to prepare his breakfast myself, it being his last day. I've just taken his tray in. His bed hasn't been slept in.'

‘Have you any idea where he can be?'

‘Not now that you're here,' came the stilted reply.

‘You thought Tony had spent the night with me?' Zoe asked, more amused than offended.

‘Yes, I'm broad-minded enough to think that,' Nerissa retorted in the kind of stiff tone that said she really wasn't.

For the first time Zoe saw a flicker of something in her future mother-in-law's eyes that made her realize she might not be quite as much in favor of this marriage as she had led Zoe to believe.

‘I
suppose Matt and Tony got disgustingly drunk and the pair of them spent the night with another member of the stag party. Men!' Nerissa finished with a shudder.

‘Couldn't Matt have taken Tony home with him?' Zoe suggested.

‘My brother arranged to stay here overnight. More convenient for getting to the church.'