Living Together. Carole Mortimer

wasn’t going to say that.’ He looked at her with dark brooding eyes. ‘Don’t you “fancy” me, Helen? Answer truthfully,’ he added warningly.

      ‘You’re very attractive.’ She did as he said. ‘Very handsome, very assured, very—–’

      ‘Are you attracted to me?’

      She bit her lip, frowning her despair, knowing she would arouse his anger with her answer. ‘No,’ she admitted huskily, unable to look at him.

      Leon drew a ragged breath. ‘Do you practise being cruel or does it come naturally?’ he asked in a strained voice.

      ‘I’m sorry,’ she replied jerkily, ‘but I thought you wanted honesty.’

      ‘Like I was with you?’ he rasped.

      ‘If you like,’ she nodded. ‘You were honest about wanting me, I’m being just as honest when I say I don’t feel the same way. I’m sorry if it wasn’t the answer you wanted.’

      ‘Hell, Helen, you aren’t sorry at all,’ he snapped angrily. ‘You’re enjoying this, enjoying seeing how much you can hurt me. Well, I’m not hurt, I’m bloody furious! I came here—–’

      ‘Because you want an affair with me,’ she finished disgustedly. ‘But I can’t help it if I don’t want you. You can’t force these feelings.’

      ‘The trouble with you is that you don’t have any feelings.’

      Helen turned her back on him. ‘I’m glad I don’t. I—–’ She broke off as he spun her round, cringing from the determination she could see in his face. ‘Don’t kiss me! Please, don’t kiss me!’ she cried her anguish.

      He flung her away from him. ‘I don’t want to kiss you,’ the words were wrung from him. ‘I could shake you until your teeth rattle, but I don’t want to kiss you! You might as well have died with your husband for all the feeling there is in you,’ he added cruelly.

      ‘I wish I had,’ she choked. ‘I wish to God I had!’

      She heard the door slam as he left, then slowly turned to face an empty room. She crumpled down on to the carpeted floor, sobbing hysterically. She might claim to have no feelings, but Leon Masters was making her live again, dragging her forcibly out of her living hell, and it was much more painful than the limbo in which she had existed the last two years.

      ’More coffee?’ Jenny asked her over breakfast on Monday morning, a breakfast that for Helen had consisted only of coffee.

      ‘No, thanks,’ she replied absently. ‘I—I have to be going in a minute. I don’t want to be late to work.’

      ‘Just once wouldn’t hurt. You look as if another cup of coffee wouldn’t come amiss.’

      Helen grimaced. ‘I could probably do with a whole potful,’ she stood up, ‘but I have to finish getting ready.’

      ‘I really didn’t know he was coming here,’ Jenny said in a rush. ‘At least, not until we’d already got under way and I realised he wasn’t on board.’

      Helen took great interest in combing her wavy shoulder-length hair. ‘It’s quite all right, Jenny. He didn’t stay long.’

      ‘Long enough to upset you all over again. You were only just starting to get over the previous Saturday. You were like a ghost when I got in.’

      ‘I was fine,’ Helen lied. ‘And I don’t think Mr Masters will be bothering me again. A chase is fine, but an out-and-out battle is too much like hard work,’ she said lightly. ‘And with me it would be a battle.’

      ‘Maybe he just isn’t the one for you.’ Jenny bit thoughtfully into her toast. ‘He is a bit overpowering, and maybe a little too old and experienced. But you do need someone in your life, Helen, someone you can care about.’

      ‘Why?’

      ‘Because—well, because everyone needs love.’

      ’I don’t. At least, not that type of love. And I don’t believe that what Leon Masters wanted from me had anything to do with love—of any kind. He only came here to tell me that he wanted me—wanted me, Jenny, nothing else.’

      ‘Well … it’s a start.’

      Helen shook her head. ‘Not for me.’

      Jenny sighed; ‘No, I suppose not.’

      Helen frowned. ‘Aren’t you going to get ready for work?’ Her cousin was still in her dressing-gown and it was already a quarter to nine.

      Jenny grinned. ‘Brent’s given me the day off for being a good girl.’

      ‘Oh yes?’ Helen queried suggestively.

      ‘Now, now,’ Jenny chided, ‘I told you there’s nothing like that between Brent and me.’

      Helen shrugged. ‘Things could have changed.’

      ‘Well, they haven’t. He gave me today off because I worked late Friday evening. Anyway, he’s away for the day.’

      ‘How the other half live,’ Helen said teasingly. ‘Well, this working girl is off to another hard day at the office.’

      Jenny grinned. ‘My heart bleeds for you!’

      Helen laughed. ‘I’ll bet! Say, perhaps you should marry Brent and then you could take days off all the time.’

      ‘Chance would be a fine thing,’ Jenny said ruefully.

      ‘Jen?’ Helen probed gently.

      ‘Just joking,’ she gave a bright smile. ‘You’re going to be late,’ she reminded her.

      ‘Jen, about Brent—–’

      ‘We’re just good friends, as the saying goes. And likely to remain that way.’

      ‘But you would like to change the arrangement?’

      Jenny bit her lip. ‘I’m not sure. Probably not. Let’s forget it.’

      ’But—–’

      ‘I said forget it, Helen. Sorry,’ Jenny mumbled. ‘Touchy subject.’

      ‘If you ever feel like talking about it you know I’m always here,’ she told her cousin.

      ‘I know,’ Jenny smiled. ‘You’ll be out of a job if you don’t leave.’

      ‘Goodness, yes! See you later.’

      Helen almost ran from the underground to the travel agency, but she was still late in, an unusual occurrence for her. Mr Walters gave her a disapproving look as she got in at nine-fifteen, looking no less annoyed even after she had apologised.

      She quietly got on with her work, her thoughts drifting to the events of the weekend. It had been an uneventful time once Leon Masters had left, but that hadn’t stopped her thinking about him, of the things he had said to her. No matter how she denied it the things he had said to her had affected her, flattered her in a way. Leon Masters was an important man, a celebrity, and yet he was attracted to her.

      ‘That’s the wrong file for that, Mrs West.’ Mr Walters was at her elbow as she filed a letter in the wrong envelope. ‘Are you feeling quite well?’

      ‘Oh, oh yes.’ She took the letter out of the file. ‘I’m perfectly well, thank you.’

      ‘Then concentrate, Mrs West,’ he frowned. ‘There would have been utter confusion when we came to look for that confirmation.’

      ‘Yes, Mr Walters.’ She stifled a smile as Sally winked at her across the office.

      The only male among six females, Mr Walters tended to be rather stand-offish and domineering, although he probably needed to be. It couldn’t be easy controlling so many females in one