Roberta Leigh - Love in Store Read online

  Each time the telephone rang she expected it to be a message from his lawyers, but it was five o'clock before they called to say the documents would be ready for her signature the following afternoon. She longed to ask the voice at the other end of the line if Zachary would be there, too, but with a great effort she held back the question.

  However the following day she dressed for her appointment with great care. After his disparaging remarks about her appearance she intended to look her best, and knew that her beige linen suit was a perfect foil for her coloring, making her look as cool and delicious as a coffee ice. She looked at herself a long time in the mirror, wishing her slender curves were more voluptuous and that her soft hair was dark and wavy. She knew she was being ridiculous and that in her own way she was equal in looks to Marie. Yet this did little for her peace of mind, for it was the Curvaceous brunette whom Zachary preferred.

  Like a mirage he rose in front of her: dark and virile and wide of shoulder, making him appear taller than he was. What comfort a girl would find against that broad, strong chest and what happiness in those firm but tender arms.

  Quickly she looked away from her reflection, afraid that the sight of her haunted eyes would only add to her sadness, though she was in complete control of herself when she entered the offices of Zachary's lawyers.

  The first words from the senior partner told her that Zachary would not be coming. "But all the documents are ready for your signature, Miss Byers," he went on, and led her across to a chair beside his desk.

  She sat down and stared at the red-ribboned parchment sheets before her. "Where do I sign?"

  "Don't you wish to read them?"

  "Is my entire holding being made over to Zachary Farrell?" she asked.

  "He is buying them from you at market price."

  She let out her breath in a deep sigh, then picked up a pen and quickly signed her name on all the documents. "Is that all?" she asked.

  "Yes."

  "Good." She went to the door, stopping as he called her name.

  "You have forgotten your check from Mr. Farrell."

  The lawyer handed her a sealed envelope and she slipped it into her bag, gave him another perfunctory smile and left the office.

  She was aware that the lawyer thought her extremely abrupt, but she had found it impossible to make casual conversation with him when all she wanted to do was to burst into tears. Sooner or later she would forget Zachary. It was knowing that he was so close that was making it hard for her. Once she was in Ireland, she would start to see him in perspective.

  The journey back to Sloane Street was slow, with traffic thick as clotted cream. The taxi meter ticked on unmercifully and, looking at the fare, she suddenly realized it didn't matter. Despite her misery she now had a great deal of money. She frowned at the knowledge. What would she do with it? It was a question that was not difficult to answer, for in her present frame of mind she knew she would never be able to spend it. She would leave it in the bank. She might even go and talk to another lawyer and see if there was a way of giving it back to Zachary. When his temper had cooled he might be willing to accept its return.

  She took the envelope from her bag and opened it. There was a thick sheet of writing paper inside, but no check—only a letter written in Zachary's hand.

  "I cannot accept the shares," he began abruptly, "and certainly not at the price you wanted me to pay, for they are worth considerably more. If you still wish me to have them at a later stage, I suggest we talk about it. In the meantime, my lawyer has instructions to destroy the documents you signed and for the share certificates to remain in your name. I do not believe—and never did—that you would sell you shares to the highest bidder. If you had been that sort of a person, you would have fallen in with Larry's plans. However you are still free to do so, if you wish. You see I am putting myself in your hands, which shows that I have greater trust in you, than you have in me."

  Numbly she reread the letter, not fully comprehending it. How could Zachary trust her the way he had said? Didn't he know that by giving her back her shares she could put him in a most difficult position at Farrell's? She wondered what Larry would say if he knew of Zachary's behavior and vowed he would never find out from her.

  She was still uncertain what to do when she had paid the taxi and went up to her apartment. Despite everything she had done to be rid of all responsibility, she was now back where she had started. Yet she was determined not to have any part in running the store. She would have someone stand in for her and hope that eventually Zachary would buy her out. Dejectedly she paced the floor. What did he hope to gain by refusing her offer and what was he trying to prove by saying he trusted her? It could only be his way of sneering at her for not having trusted him.

  Abruptly she sat down. How would she feel if she discovered that she had misjudged him? The thought was too bitter to contemplate and she shied away from it, knowing full well that before the evening was out she would have to ask Zachary to explain the reasons behind his action.

  Refusing to give herself more time to brood, she dialed his home. The bell rang several times before she heard his voice. As always its deepness set her pulse tingling and she tried not to visualize him at the other end of the line, standing dark and aloof amidst the quietness of his cream- colored living room.

  "I got your letter," she said in a trembling voice. "I think you are being ridiculous."

  "I'm sorry. But it was the only way I could prove that I have trust in you."

  "Why do you want to prove that?"

  "Because it's also the only way of telling you that I didn't make love to you in order to get you to favor me instead of Larry."

  "Why did you do it then?" She thought of Marie and was goaded into temper. "Was I a stand-in for your girl friend?"

  There was a long silence. "Good-by, Samantha," he said at last. "I don't think we have anything more to say."

  "You're right," she said shakily and put down the receiver.

  Only then did she take out his letter again and reread it, seeing how her accusations must have hurt him for him to have done this most extraordinary thing. No wonder his lawyer had looked at her strangely when he had given her the envelope. He had probably thought his client was mad: going to the pretense of having him prepare documents which—once she had signed them—he had instructions to tear up.

  She unzipped her dress and went into the bedroom. She longed to curl up on her bed and pull the blankets over her head but she resisted the temptation. She would have a bath first. The hot water might ease the tension that was making her nerves taut and her temples ache. As the water ran she switched on the radio, then soaking in the steamy depths, she concentrated on the banal words of the latest pop song.

  Pink-skinned, she finally emerged from the bath and, wrapped in a long, fleecy robe, padded into the kitchen to try to quell the queasy pangs in her stomach. She opened the refrigerator and stared at a jar of butter and a box of croissants. It wasn't much but it was better than nothing. She was about to take them out when she saw a half-bottle of champagne on the bottom shelf.

  That was a much better idea. It would at least stop her feeling sorry for herself.

  Gingerly she unwrapped the gold foil. There was a loud pop and the cork flew into the air. Champagne foamed over the edge of the bottle and she quickly tipped it into a glass. Holding the glass and the half empty bottle in her hand, she headed toward the living room.

  She was crossing the hall when there was a tapping on the door. She looked at it apprehensively, remembering all the dangers that could befall girls who lived alone in a big city.

  "Who is—who's there?" she called loudly.

  "Zachary."

  She backed away from the door, almost as if she could see through it.

  "Open up," he said. "I don't intend to talk to you through a panel of wood."

  "I don't want to talk to you."

  His knuckles rapped on the door again and she moved across and opened it. Instantly he steppe
d through, as if afraid she would slam it on him.

  He seemed much taller, until she recollected she was not wearing any shoes. Nor was she wearing any clothes beneath her robe. Nervously she went to tighten the belt. The bottle of champagne slipped and she grasped it. Sensing her dilemma, Zachary stepped forward and tightened the belt for her, then he eyed her from the top of her damp head to the pink toes peeping beneath the white toweling.

  "Expecting someone?"

  "Not you," she said promptly.

  "Pity."

  She moved back a step and took a gulp of champagne. "What do you want? I haven't got time to stand here talking to you." There was no doubting the amusement in his face and she knew he was laughing at her. "I suppose you think it was funny having me sign those documents and then making arrangements for them to be torn up?"

  "It was the only possible thing I could do in the circumstances." He walked into the sitting room. "If you have another glass," he said conversationally, "you could offer me some champagne. That's something I am willing to take from you."

  "Help yourself," she said shortly, and held out the bottle.

  He took it and the tips of his fingers touched hers. She let go of the bottle. It slipped and with an exclamation he bent and caught it.

  "You're, very nervous, Samantha."

  "How do you expect me to feel? You are the last person in the world I want to see."

  "I'm afraid you are stuck with me for the next few minutes. I have come to say something and I don't intend to leave until I've said it."

  "Then be quick about it. I have a date."

  "With whom?"

  "That's none of your business."

  "Well at least I can keep you company until he arrives."

  She thought wildly. "He isn't arriving. I—I'm meeting him in the West End."

  "Then I'll take you there."

  "Peter wouldn't like that," she said, glad she had suddenly remembered him. "He's very jealous."

  "Peter?" For the first time Zachary looked perturbed.

  "Peter Jackson, the photographer," she explained. "I'm sure you have heard of him."

  "Isn't he the man your friend was hoping to marry?"

  "That was in the past," Samantha said, marveling at his memory. "He's my boy friend now."

  "Stop it, Samantha," Zachary said in such a loud voice that she jumped like a startled doe.

  "S-stop what?"

  "Stop pretending that you have another date. I don't believe you."

  "Really? Did you imagine I would moon over you for the next six months?"

  "I would like to think you would moon over me for far longer than that." He set down his glass and, reaching across, did the same with hers. Then he put both hands on her arms. "Come here, Samantha."

  She ignored him and he pulled her roughly forward. The sash of her robe loosened and the toweling parted. He caught his breath sharply, then with trembling fingers pulled the robe closely around her.

  "I love you, Samantha," he said, and held her against his chest. She struggled within his hold but he would not let her go. "Be careful," he warned, "your sash is still on the floor."

  Instantly she became motionless. "You're a beast to take advantage of me like this."

  "Considering I rewrapped you in your fluffy robe, I can hardly be accused of taking advantage of you!"

  "Well at least let me go to my room and put on something else."

  "And run the risk of having you lock the door on me?"

  Since this was exactly what she had intended to do, she gave him full marks for deducing it. "Please Zachary," she whispered, "say what you have to say and then go."

  "I love you," he repeated. "I took you out because I wanted to be with you."

  "Marie is your mistress."

  "Only until I fell in love with you."

  "At first sight, no doubt," Samantha said sarcastically.

  "No," he said, "I won't lie about that. At our first meeting I could cheerfully have strangled you." He paused, and his hands moved down her back and came to rest on her waist. "I think it was when you knocked that dummy over in the dress department and its head landed at my feet.

  You looked like a little girl whose doll had broken. I knew then that I wasn't going to get you out of my mind."

  "You never gave any indication of it."

  Her voice was muffled because he was holding her so close that her face was pressed against his chest. His jacket was undone and she felt the silkiness of his shirt and was surprised that it was slightly damp. This, more than anything else, was indicative of the emotions he was trying so hard to hide. But there were many emotions that a man could feel for a woman, and most of them had nothing to do with love.

  "Please, Zachary, let me go. I can't talk to you unless I can see you." The quietness of her voice seemed to satisfy him that she was prepared to be sensible, and he released her.

  "Well, Samantha, will you let me finish what I started?"

  "What did you start?"

  "What I hoped was going to be a life-time love affair with you. I love you and I want to marry you."

  "As well as have Marie for a girl friend? I know she only went -to America because you asked her to go."

  His astonished look changed to one of comprehension, and with it his whole demeanor altered. His eyes darkened with anger and the well-shaped mouth grew thin and tight. "When did she tell you that?"

  "The day you were in Paris."

  "How could you have believed her?" he asked quietly. "I thought I had made it so plain the way I felt about you."

  "Because you kissed me? You never said anything."

  "I didn't think words were necessary. Besides, I was afraid you might think I was being nice to you because of those damned shares of yours. Of course Marie was clever enough to know what was in my mind."

  "How did you plan to overcome my suspicions?"

  "I was hoping to buy Larry's shares—or at least enough of them to give me the control I needed—without involving you. Unfortunately Larry was only willing to sell his entire holding and I couldn't afford the price."

  "Then why have you given my shares back to me?" she demanded. "That means you still don't have control."

  "Because it's the only way I can show you that I trust you. I meant what I said in that letter, Samantha. I know you will never do anything to harm Farrell's or me—which is more than I can say of my cousin." There was an unusual note of bitterness in Zachary's voice. "I know he's anxious to put this invention of his to the test, but he has no need to set such a high price on his shares."

  "Larry doesn't have the same loyalties as you."

  Samantha said. "He also inferred that Marie stayed in America because you had asked her to do so."

  "Poor Larry, he really was prepared to do anything to get things his own way."

  "What do you think he will do now? The man who wants to buy him out will only do so if he can have my shares too."

  "Larry won't be stuck for long," Zachary said dryly. "He'll either be prepared to deal with me or put his engineering project into cold storage. Anyway, whatever he does is unimportant as long as I have you."

  Once again Zachary drew her close. This time she did not resist him but lay in the haven of his arms with a deep content.

  "Even when I thought I hated you," she whispered, "I could never have done anything to hurt you."

  "I knew that, my darling." His voice was deeper than she had ever heard it. "I only have myself to blame for you misunderstanding me. I should have told you I was trying to negotiate with Larry, but I hated talking business to you. I didn't want to involve you in all the trouble I was having."

  "I'm sure the two of us can get him to behave decently."

  "I don't care what he does," Zachary said fiercely. "All I'm concerned with is you." He looked into her upturned face and recognized the question lurking in the depths of her eyes. "Still worried about Marie?"

  "Only because she is so recent. You did rush to meet her at the airport."<
br />
  "You could call that a guilty conscience. You see I had made it clear I wanted to end my friendship with her. That's why she went to the States. She kept telephoning me while she was there, begging me to meet her at the airport. I thought that was as good a time as any to make it quite clear that everything was over between us."

  "No wonder she had a go at me the following day!"

  "You poor darling," Zachary said tenderly, and then gave her a shake, "but more fool you for believing her." He went to kiss her but she turn her head sharply. "What is it?" he asked.

  She hesitated, trying to think of a diplomatic way of putting her final doubts into words, but it was impossible to be diplomatic in these circumstances and bluntly she said, "You can't have made your feelings all that clear to Marie. I saw her on Friday coming out of Farrell's with half the Dress Department."

  Zachary looked stupefied, then he gave a wry grin. "That's exactly the sort of thing Marie would do. Don't you see why she went on a shopping splurge? She knew that once I had a chance to attend to my personal things I would close her account. Being Marie, she thought she would replenish her wardrobe first." Again he shook with laughter.

  "You won't find it so funny when you get the bill."

  "I'll charge it up to experience." He nuzzled his face into the side of Samantha's neck and breathed in the scent of her. "Don't let's waste time talking about unimportant people when all I want to do is to talk about you and our future. How long will you keep me waiting?"

  "For what?" she asked provocatively.

  "For marriage and your beautiful body!"

  "I like the order in which you put it!" She rubbed her lips down the side of his cheek. "If only you had said this to me weeks ago I would have saved myself such a lot of unhappiness."

  "Me, too," he said grimly. "But Larry kept telling me how suspicious you were of me…"

  "You mean he did a Marie on you?"

  "I'm afraid so. We were both rather stupid, but from now on that's all in the past." He sought her lips and at the same time his hands moved down her robe to press her body hard against his. "It might be a good idea if you did put some clothes on," he said. "Otherwise you could prove too much of a temptation to me."