What a fool!
Play with him and you’re playing in the big league, someone had warned her once. Well, she’d played, and got burned—not once but twice.
You utter fool!
Could she go on living with a man like that? Did she want to?
It was then she saw it, and she stopped dead, her brain burning with a combination of horror and excitement at the sudden idea which popped unexpectedly into her head.
It was only a tiny place, its windows cluttered with posters advertising the services it sold. But it was the instantly recognisable logo of one of Britain’s biggest airline companies that had caught her attention.
With the sun beating down on her uncovered head, she lifted a hand to shade her eyes. Her fingers were trembling. She wasn’t surprised. The idea was so incredible that she could barely believe she was actually considering it!
Yet it was tempting—so very tempting—tempting enough to send her feet uncertainly into the shop...
* * *
Hot, tired, and ready for a nice cool shower followed by a long rest, Jemma stepped back on to the yacht, hoping Leon was not around to waylay her. Two crewmen watched her come aboard, but other than that she managed to slip quietly back to her own room, the coolness of the air-conditioning a relief after the fierce heat outside.
Walking over to her dressing-table, she dropped down wearily on the stool. She was clutching an envelope in her hand, and she gazed dully at it.
This was it. Her means of escape. Her heart shook, making her sigh heavily.
The price they’d quoted her was in drachmas, yet, even as she’d dug out her roll of notes and begun carefully counting them out, she hadn’t really believed she would have enough. She had been wrong. Leon’s idea of a few pounds turned out to be the equivalent of a few hundred pounds. Enough—more than enough to buy her a seat on a plane home to England.
It had been so easy—so damned simple that she had to believe it was fate that had sent her into the shop.
Saturday. The day after tomorrow. The envelope held her ticket to freedom. The day after tomorrow she would be flying home and away from Leon. She did not know what she was going to do when she got there, what she was going to live on or even where she was going to stay, but suddenly she knew it was the right thing to do. The only thing to do. She just couldn’t stay with a man who could use her so carelessly. It hurt too much.
A sudden knock at the door had her jerking upright, and she spun around, eyes wide, face pale, heart palpitating so badly that she actually felt dizzy with it.
Leon. It had to be Leon. Only he would dare knock in that peremptory way.
‘Jemma.’ Not a question but a quietly issued command. It was him, and on a sudden spurt of panic she opened her dressing-table drawer and pushed the envelope in it, what was left of her money following it before she turned back to stare at the door.
‘Jemma!’ His voice was not so quiet this time, and the knock was sharp with impatience. Pulling herself together, she schooled her face into a cool mask and went to open the door.
He looked just the same as always, she noted bitterly. A little tired maybe, but no sign of guilt spoiling his handsome face, no hint of remorse. She stared coldly at him, hating the wretched ache she felt stir inside her, and turned back into the room. He followed, closing the door behind him.
‘Where have you been?’ he asked quietly enough.
Still she bristled. ‘Out,’ she said, moving jerkily to close the dressing table drawer when she saw she had left it open. ‘Why?’ she challenged, fingers curling around the smooth cedarwood as she turned back to face him. ‘Do you have a problem with that?’
His eyes had narrowed on her hands, making her heart thump agitatedly in her breast. Did he know what she’d done? Could he have found out?
‘No,’ he answered. ‘But it would have been—kinder if you had warned someone about what you intended to do.’
‘Like you do, you mean?’ Her chin came up, her meaning excruciatingly clear.
Still, he ignored it. ‘The doctor said you should rest. Yet you’ve been gone for hours. Didn’t it occur to you I may be worried?’
‘For whom?’ she goaded. ‘Me or the child?’
‘Both,’ he said. Then, with a hint of impatience at last, ‘Listen, I did not come here to argue with you, Jemma. I am not a fool; I am quite aware that you consider me beneath your contempt at the moment. But, despite what you prefer to think or believe, I am concerned for your health. I have to attend a meeting this afternoon,’ he went on grimly. ‘But I would rather go to it without worrying whether your desire to punish me could make you foolish enough to go out again and thoroughly exhaust yourself.’
‘Then go to your meeting.’ She shrugged indifferently. ‘Despite what you seem to think, I care for this baby’s health too. I shall not be leaving the yacht again today.’
‘Good,’ he murmured. ‘And thank you. Your reassurance eases my mind.’