The Failed Marriage. Carole Mortimer

looking at him beneath lowered lashes.

      ‘Miss Proctor,’ he acknowledged curtly, and instantly left the locker-room.

      So much for getting him to notice her! Oh, he had noticed her, all right, and just as soon dismissed her, she thought indignantly. Well, Joshua Radcliffe was about to find out that she only became all the more determined when something was constantly denied her.

      But he seemed equally determined to ignore her, barely acknowledging her cheery greeting and hand-waves if they should ‘happen’ to meet. The day she stopped him to return the strap was the day he couldn’t just walk away from her.

      It was lunchtime, and the cafeteria was crowded as Joanna pushed her way through to the vacant seat next to Joshua, hardly able to believe her luck as she glanced round the room. He had almost finished his coffee and sandwich, but she hurried to the seat before he could leave.

      ‘May I?’ She looked down at him expectantly, knowing the light blue ski suit she wore showed off the slenderness of her figure and deepened the colour of her eyes.

      His shrug wasn’t encouraging. ‘I think it’s a question of sit where you can today.’

      Not very encouraging at all. And she was very conscious of the other couple sitting at the table as she put her fruit yoghurt and coffee on the table before disposing of the tray, smiling as she sat down next to Joshua Racliffe. ‘I’m glad I ran into you today,’ she told him breathlessly.

      Puzzlement flickered briefly in the dark grey eyes, one brow raised in query. ‘You are?’

      Her confidence wavered for a moment, although she quickly recovered. ‘Yes. I have a new strap for you.’ She had been walking about with the strap zipped in her pocket for days in the hope that she would be able to use just such an occasion to sit and talk to him.

      ‘New strap?’ he frowned.

      ‘Yes, I—–’ The man didn’t even remember her, there was not a flicker of recognition in the stormy depths of his eyes! She reached up a hand to release her hair from the restrictive hat, its honey blondeness cascading down her back. ‘I’m Joanna Proctor, we met in the locker-room the other day,’ she prompted as he still looked puzzled. Well, no one had ever accused her of being defeatist!

      ‘Ah yes, Miss Proctor.’ His words were obviously spoken out of politeness, still no recognition in his expression.

      She didn’t know what to say now, and was glad of the diversion of the other couple leaving to shield her dented ego. Luckily the lunchtime rush was over now, so she had Joshua to herself. But he appeared to be getting ready to leave too, picking up his gloves and ski-goggles.

      ‘I have a new strap for you here.’ She unzipped her pocket and handed it to him. ‘I bought it in town.’

      He made no effort to take it. ‘There was really no need—–’

      ‘Of course there was,’ she insisted softly. ‘You were kind enough to lend me one of yours, the least I can do is replace it with a new one.’

      He shrugged. ‘If you insist.’ He took the strap and pushed it carelessly into his pocket.

      ‘Oh, I do,’ she nodded eagerly. ‘Er—could I buy you another cup of coffee?’ she asked desperately as he seemed about to get up and leave.

      He froze in the action of standing, looking down at her slowly. ‘Are you in the habit of buying strange men coffee?’ His voice was icy.

      She laughed nervously, ‘No, I’m not in the habit of doing it,’ and here was a man who obviously didn’t appreciate the feminine prerogative of making the first move. Or did she mean moves—so far she seemed to have done all the chasing. And the man was making it very difficult for her to catch him. ‘And I wouldn’t call you strange,’ she added mischievously.

      The eyes flickered silver, although his expression remained stern. ‘How old are you?’ he rasped.

      ‘How old—–?’ She was taken aback by the question.

      ‘Yes,’ he bit out grimly. ‘How old?’

      Joanna tentatively touched the tip of her tongue to her lips. ‘Er—twenty,’ she lied, meeting his gaze unflinchingly.

      For a moment he said nothing, then his mouth twisted into a mocking smile. ‘And I suppose you’ve been tempting men since you were in your cradle?’ he mused.

      He was actually flirting with her! ‘Not exactly,’ she grinned.

      All humour left him, leaving his face more austere than usual. ‘That’s probably because you haven’t left it yet!’ And with this abrupt comment he left her.

      How could he do that to her, how could he flirt with her one second and treat her like a child the next! Well, it wasn’t fair, and she was far from beaten yet.

      He didn’t put in an appearance for the next three days. The first day she didn’t worry too much—after all, he didn’t have to spend all his time skiing. But by the third day she began to suspect that he had left Banff, and Canada, to go back to wherever he came from. She cursed herself for not taking better advantage of her chances, knowing she would never again meet a man as fascinating as Joshua Radcliffe.

      She moped about the cabin for the next two days, losing interest in the holiday that to many would be the highlight of a lifetime, no longer wishing to ski now that the possibility of seeing Joshua was gone. But finally it was her parents’ promptings that persuaded her to go back to Mount Norquay, utterly bored by Greg’s attempts to flirt with her, no longer interested in the ski-instructor when she had known the effect of a real man.

      And then she saw a familiar navy-blue-clad figure skiing easily down from the top of the mountain—she would recognise that lithe figure anywhere. Joshua hadn’t left after all! Suddenly the day took on a new glow, even Greg’s conversation seeming interesting, although she was relieved when he excused himself to take his next class. Joshua was still here, and this time she didn’t intend to let him disappear, possibly for good, without making some sort of impression on him.

      The tangled mess of arms, poles, legs, and skis wasn’t quite what she had in mind, but it achieved its objective!

      She had watched Joshua go up in the chair-lift once again and had tried to time her descent from one of the small slopes to coincide with the time he too reached the bottom. Unfortunately she spent so much time watching how well he skied that she forgot her own control, suddenly realising she was heading straight for him. It was too late to do more than close her eyes and hope there would be no broken bones.

      They met with a crunch of bodies, the force of it knocking all the breath from Joanna’s body, leaving her lying on the ground gasping, her legs and skis completely entangled with Joshua’s as he lay panting beside her.

      He straggled to sit up, brushing the powdered snow from his goggles, finally removing them altogether to look down at her. ‘Joanna!’ he bit out gruffly. ‘Are you all right?’ His eyes narrowed as she didn’t move.

      Her eyes flickered open and she felt slightly dazed, although the fact that he had remembered her name did a lot to help her feel better. ‘I—–’ She seemed to be having trouble talking, completely winded by the fall.

      He bent over her now, concern etched into his pale face. ‘Are you hurt?’ he repeated in a rasping voice.

      Was she hurt? She tentatively moved all her limbs, feeling not the slightest twinge, although she knew from experience that she would probably be bruised and aching tomorrow. But if she told Joshua she was all right now would he just get up and leave? She daren’t risk it.

      She grimaced. ‘My wrist hurts.’

      His gaze instantly moved down her body. ‘Which one?’

      Joanna held up her right arm. ‘This one.’

      ‘Hm,’ his mouth was tight. ‘Well, you haven’t broken it, or you wouldn’t