The Millionaire's Christmas Wife Read online

  As Miriam gazed at him the old feeling that had been with her almost from the first time they’d met and which had never completely gone away, not even after they were married, returned in a flood. How could a man who looked like Jay did, a man who had everything—wit, personality, wealth and a body to die for—want her? One of her friends, in the aftermath of the separation, had voiced what Miriam knew lots of people were thinking. She hadn’t meant to be anything other than helpful but her words had confirmed more than anything else how folk saw her and Jay. Angela had taken her hand and said softly, ‘Miriam, look at it this way: Jay’s…extraordinary, and if he comes home to you each night, does it really matter if he strays now and again? A man like him, well, you’ve got to expect it, haven’t you? And he did marry you.’

  Meaning, what else could you ask for? Miriam thought now. An ordinary, unremarkable girl bagging the sort of guy who only comes along once in a blue moon, she ought to be down on her knees thanking God he’d looked her way.

  ‘Well?’ Jay’s voice was lazy and relaxed but the amber eyes were piercingly intent. ‘Decision time. On the one hand we date for a little while and see how things sort out, on the other I make your life…uncomfortable.’

  ‘You’d do that?’ she asked, white-faced.

  ‘In these circumstances? Yes, I would,’ he replied without a shred of remorse.

  ‘How can you say you love me and behave like that?’

  ‘It’s because I love you I’d behave like that, Miriam.’

  ‘I don’t see love the way you do obviously.’

  ‘Considering this is from the woman who clearly kept more from me than she told me and who didn’t care enough for me to stay and talk things out, not to mention trust me, forgive me if I’m not too perturbed by that,’ he murmured, one eyebrow slanting mockingly.

  Miriam glared at him. How dared he criticise her and act holier-than-thou? Out of marks of ten for sheer nerve, Jay scored twenty. ‘If you’re that concerned about us, why didn’t you make more effort to see me months ago?’ she said from the heart, regretting it the moment the words were out.

  ‘Because it wasn’t working, me trying to put things right,’ he answered immediately, his cool tone belying the glitter of anger in his eyes her words had caused. ‘You weren’t prepared to listen and I was blowed if I was going to keep on banging my head against a brick wall.’

  ‘So what’s changed?’ she said icily.

  Before she could stop him he had leant forward and taken her small, slender hand in his, lacing her fingers through his and holding them tight. ‘I realised one person in this relationship has to start behaving like a grown-up, and it sure as hell isn’t going to be you, my love,’ he said softly. ‘That and the fact that you want me.’

  She wanted to tell him that she most certainly did not want him. That he was the last man on earth she wanted, in fact. That she’d rather walk through London stark naked than have anything to do with him in the future. She wanted to, but her mouth failed to form the words. All she could manage was a somewhat feeble, ‘Huh.’

  ‘When you look at me you look at me with hungry eyes, Miriam. You remember what it was like, don’t you…?’ He let the words trickle like warm honey over her taut nerves. ‘The things we did, the way I made you feel. I was your first lover and I did more than have sex with you, I loved you, but you only opened your body to me. Your mind, that inner self, you gave me no access to. I gave you your first taste of sexual ecstasy, your first climax, but I fooled myself when I thought I had you. I shan’t make that mistake again.’

  He turned her hand over in his, bending his head and caressing the wildly beating pulse in her wrist with his warm lips.

  Miriam shivered, she couldn’t help it. His touch had always invoked a tumult of feeling in every nerve and sinew and she was as helpless before it now as she had been in the very beginning.

  He raised his head, the tawny gaze watching the effect he had on her. ‘You see?’ he said softly. ‘You can’t escape the truth—you’re part of me. We’re husband and wife.’

  ‘Not any more.’ She wanted to snatch her hand away but was aware she couldn’t cause a scene. ‘Only on paper.’

  ‘What we have doesn’t begin or end with a piece of paper. You’re mine, Miriam. You’ll always be mine, but I realise now it’s not enough that you’re my wife. I want to know you inside out; how you think and feel and why you’re like you are. I haven’t even begun to touch the inner core, have I? That private self that trusts and believes in the beloved.’

  Finally she managed to retrieve her hand and with some distance between them she found she could think again. ‘We’re in the position we’re in because you had an affair with your secretary,’ she said flatly.

  Jay expelled a quiet breath. ‘No I didn’t,’ he said very quietly, ‘but that’s nothing to do with the position we’re in. Sooner or later we would have been here; it was just a fact waiting to happen. At some point you would have convinced yourself I was like your father because you weren’t prepared to let yourself believe anything else. If you did it might make you vulnerable.’

  ‘That’s rubbish.’ She lifted her chin in angry defiance, prepared to fight tooth and nail for what she saw as her integrity.

  ‘I don’t think so. And everything you’ve said tonight confirms it. It would have been the most natural thing in the world for you to tell me you didn’t want to live in the apartment, so why didn’t you? I’ll tell you why. Because you didn’t want to risk displeasing me. You told me your mother lived like that with your father, falling in with everything he wanted in order to keep his love.’

  ‘That’s not why I didn’t tell you.’

  He refused to accept her self-denial. ‘Think about it, Miriam. Tonight, when you’re alone. Think about what I’ve said because sooner or later you’ve got to start facing your gremlins.’

  He glanced over her shoulder as she glared at him, his voice suddenly casual as he murmured, ‘Here’s our main course. Smile, Miriam. You don’t want to frighten the nice waiter, now, do you?’

  She waited until the waiter had left again before she said, ‘Anyone else in your position would do the decent thing.’

  ‘Really?’ Jay smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. ‘And what’s that?’

  ‘Make the divorce as painless as possible.’

  ‘Not even an option,’ he said cheerfully. ‘My meal’s great by the way. How’s yours?’

  ‘Jay—’

  ‘Eat your dinner.’ Suddenly all amusement was gone and the tender note to his voice was nearly her undoing. ‘We’re not going to talk about this any more tonight, we’re going to enjoy ourselves. Perhaps even dance in a while, OK?’

  Not OK. So not OK. ‘I don’t think—’

  ‘Good. I don’t want you to think. Just to feel.’

  If he interrupted her a third time he’d feel her foot making contact with his shin bone. Miriam became aware the couple at the next table were looking at them with thinly veiled curiosity. They were not near enough to have heard the content of their conversation but she didn’t doubt her body language had said quite enough for them to get the message all was not well. Taking a long silent breath, she glanced down at her plate. The beef looked wonderful and perhaps because she’d hardly eaten anything the last couple of days, worrying about tonight, she suddenly found her mouth was watering. Picking up her knife and fork, she began to eat.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  ‘SO YOU’RE telling me that, after all the talk about wanting you back and living together and everything, he didn’t even ask for a goodnight kiss?’

  Clara was sitting cross-legged on Miriam’s sofa eating a croissant, the crumbs of which were scattering in an arc about her. Miriam had long since got used to her friend’s aversion for sitting at a table; in Clara’s bedsit meals were either eaten balanced precariously on two long-legged stools at the tiny breakfast bar, or sitting hippy-fashion on one of several massive floor cushions. She had also got used to her friend’s
tactlessness. Nodding now, she said flatly, ‘After all that was said he was probably glad to see the back of me. Anyway, I wouldn’t have kissed him if he’d wanted me to, you know that.’

  Clara didn’t comment on this questionable statement. Instead she licked her fingers one by one and then said in a wise-owl tone, ‘He’s playing it cool.’

  If he was playing it cool it was arctic-cold, Miriam thought miserably. After their initial talk at dinner Jay had suddenly switched to suave and amusing dinner-companion mode, steering the conversation away from anything personal when she had attempted to get down to the nitty-gritty of their separation and refusing to be drawn when she’d sensed what he was doing. He had been witty and charming and polite, as though it were the first time they’d dated, and when he’d seen her home in the taxi he’d made no attempt to kiss her or even hold her hand. And it had driven her mad; she’d tossed and turned all night wondering why he’d changed his mind about wanting her.

  And how was that for inconsistency on her part? she asked herself as Clara helped herself to another croissant. Clara had arrived on her doorstep at eight o’clock positively agog to hear how the evening had gone, and she hadn’t had the heart to send her away, even though she’d only finally gone to sleep as dawn had broken.

  Miriam watched her friend tuck into the pastry and found herself envying Clara’s happy-go-lucky approach to life and love more than she’d ever done before. She wished with all her heart she had just a smidgen of Clara’s carefree, permissive attitude. With this in mind, and also to deflect any more humiliating disclosures, she said brightly, ‘How’s Dave?’

  ‘Who?’ said Clara, without any attempt at joking. ‘Oh, Dave.’

  ‘History?’ Miriam guessed, feeling a bit sorry for the hapless Dave. He had had a great taste in wine.

  Clara nodded. ‘I’ve actually decided to be celibate for a while,’ she said, reaching for her third croissant. ‘There’s a guy at work I’ve been talking to and he’s been celibate for over a year now. He reckons his work output has increased by a hundred per cent and he feels terrific. In tune with himself. You know?’

  Miriam didn’t. She’d never felt in tune with herself in the whole of her life. Which perhaps meant Jay had got a point. This was too disturbing to contemplate and she said brightly, ‘Another coffee?’

  ‘Love one.’ Clara fixed her with her great blue eyes, which were outlined in a murky, yellow gold that morning. It should have looked gross but on Clara it simply looked right. ‘So, are you seeing Jay again, then? Date-wise, I mean?’ she asked, uncurling herself off the sofa and wandering across to the window.

  Miriam made an indeterminate sound that could have meant anything and shrugged. ‘I don’t think so. There’s no point, is there?’ Not for the world would she admit, not even to Clara, that he had said goodnight and walked away without mentioning seeing her again.

  Not that she wanted him to, she hastened to assure herself. Of course not. She would have to say no and things would get awkward again and the whole uncomfortable cycle would start once more. Far better they parted civilly, having shared a nice meal. It was just that she didn’t appreciate him blowing hot and cold the way he had last night, one minute saying he wanted them to make a go of it and live together again, and the next dumping her on her doorstep without so much as a by-your-leave.

  Handing Clara her coffee, she said, ‘We’ll have to go shopping for ski clothes soon. We can’t leave it till the last minute.’

  With typical directness Clara ignored Miriam’s attempt to change the subject. ‘He’s got under your skin again, hasn’t he? I knew it was a bad idea, you going last night.’

  ‘He hasn’t.’ She’d spoken too quickly. After a charged silence in which Clara’s pierced eyebrows rose, Miriam repeated weakly, ‘He hasn’t. It was just a big unsettling, that’s all. We were—are—married, Clara.’

  ‘But you’re over him.’

  ‘Definitely.’

  ‘It wouldn’t worry you, then, that he’s just got out of a sex machine on wheels and is about to ring the doorbell?’

  ‘You’re joking!’ Miriam flew across to the window. Clara wasn’t joking. Miriam just had time to see Jay raise his hand before the intercom’s buzz sounded. ‘I can’t see him.’ She stared aghast at Clara. She was still in her pyjamas and she hadn’t even brushed her hair, she thought wildly.

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ll get rid of him.’ Clara marched over to the intercom and pressed the button. ‘Hello?’

  ‘Miriam?’ Deep and resonant, Jay’s voice cut into the room.

  ‘No, this is Clara, Miriam’s friend. She’s not here.’

  There was silence for a moment. ‘Why are you there if she isn’t?’ he asked suspiciously.

  ‘I like her bedsit better than mine. It’s tidier.’

  True, Miriam thought. Ridiculous answer, but true none the less.

  ‘Put Miriam on, would you?’ Jay’s voice had an edge to it.

  ‘Can’t, sorry. I told you, she’s not here,’ Clara lied merrily, clearly enjoying herself.

  ‘It’s eight-thirty on a Saturday morning. Where the hell is she if she’s not at home?’ Jay grated, losing patience.

  ‘Work?’ Clara suggested sweetly.

  ‘She doesn’t work on a Saturday.’

  ‘Shopping?’

  There was a pregnant pause. ‘Now, look here—’

  Pushing Clara aside, Miriam said quietly, ‘Hello, Jay. What can I do for you?’

  There was another pause, longer this time. Miriam could hear her heart beating, the blood thundering in her ears. She found she was holding her breath and forced herself to breathe out slowly, aware of Clara’s eyes on her.

  ‘I need to talk to you,’ he said with dangerous softness after some moments.

  With Clara waving her arms and mouthing ‘No!’, Miriam found her thought process had frozen. ‘Why?’ she murmured stupidly.

  ‘I’d prefer to discuss that face-to-face.’

  ‘I’m still in my pyjamas.’

  This time his voice had a smoky quality to it when he said, ‘I’ve seen you in pyjamas before. And without them.’

  Miriam was not about to go there. Especially with Clara’s eagle eyes on her. Refusing to blush, she said crisply, ‘Give me a couple of minutes to get changed and then come up,’ as she pressed the release for the door.

  ‘I knew it,’ Clara said with infuriating smugness. ‘He’s worked the old magic, hasn’t he?’

  Now colour did creep up into Miriam’s cheeks. ‘Clara, I have to change. You don’t mind cutting breakfast short?’

  ‘I do, but not because of the food. I don’t want your heart broken again.’

  There was real concern in Clara’s voice and spontaneously Miriam hugged her, nearly impaling her forehead on the spiky hair, which was lacquered as stiff as a board this morning. ‘I’ll be fine. Don’t worry. One thing I’m absolutely sure about is that Jay and I are finished. I couldn’t go back there, Clara. I know that. But if we can agree to do this in a relatively friendly fashion it’ll make things so much easier. Believe me, I know how it can be when the two parties are fighting and it isn’t pretty. I see it every day at work.’

  Clara looked at her. ‘You’re too nice for him,’ she said feelingly. ‘I’d want my pound of flesh if I were in your position.’ Tilting her head, she added, ‘Actually you’re probably too nice to be friends with me but I’m glad you are.’ Hugging Miriam back, she then made her way to the door. ‘I’ll talk to him for five minutes to give you time to titivate.’

  ‘No, Clara, don’t.’

  Her words fell on deaf ears. Clara had already shut the door behind her. Miriam groaned. Great. If she’d wanted the final straw in this little scenario Clara had just provided a cartload.

  Whisking off her pyjamas, she grabbed a vest top and combat trousers from her wardrobe—her usual Saturday cleaning-the-bedsit-and-messing-about clothes, and she was blowed if she was going to change the routine and dress up for Jay—and ran
a comb through her thick hair. She couldn’t resist glancing in the mirror. Without any make-up her freckles dominated her creamy skin and made her look about sixteen, and her slim figure and wide, guileless eyes completed the picture of naivety. She clicked her tongue in annoyance. She was as far removed from the elegant, sophisticated beauties who populated Jay’s world as the man in the moon, and about as seductive, she told herself irritably. She had nothing about her to entice a male and drive him crazy—she didn’t even have Clara’s individuality.

  She pushed back a strand of chestnut hair from one flushed cheek, searching her reflection for what had attracted Jay in the first place. After a few moments she admitted defeat. It was as big a mystery to her now as it had been when they’d met, she thought, turning away, but then stopping in her tracks.

  Jay had accused her last night of never trusting him, of biding time until he betrayed her as her father had betrayed her mother. Had she felt like that? She hadn’t thought she had. She had loved him beyond life.

  But love wasn’t trust. A separate part of her mind was playing devil’s advocate. You could love someone without trusting them—she only had to look at her mother with her father to know that was true. Shortly after her mother had got together with George, she’d confided to Miriam that this relationship was as different from the one she’d had with Miriam’s father as chalk from cheese. ‘Until I met George I’d never realised I hadn’t trusted your father from even before our marriage,’ Anne had murmured quietly. ‘Your father was so handsome and charismatic, I suppose. He drew people to him like moths to a flame, especially the women,’ she had added without any bitterness at all. ‘They threw themselves at him. He was just one of those men; it wasn’t his fault.’