The Millionaire's Christmas Wife. HELEN BROOKS

and it was irrevocable.

      Switching on the light, she reached for a book on the table next to the sofa bed. She read a couple of pages without taking a word in; all she could focus on was the memory of Belinda’s sugary-sweet voice on that morning ten months ago.

      She was so sorry, Belinda had murmured, that Miriam had had to find out about the affair the way she had, but she must believe it was over now. She wasn’t returning to work at Carter Enterprises—she had left Jay’s employ—so there was no chance temptation could rear its head again.

      Miriam had listened, sickened, as the soft voice had gone on. With the benefit of hindsight she realised she should have put the phone down as soon as Belinda had spoken, but she had been like a rabbit immobilised and horribly fascinated in the glare of the headlights of the car that was going to destroy it.

      She just wanted to explain, Belinda had gone on, that she didn’t make a habit of sleeping with married men but, as Miriam had probably realised by now, Jay was irresistible when he wanted something. She’d fallen madly in love with him even though she had known deep down that for him it was only a physical thing and that he was the sort of man who would always take advantage of the attraction he held for women. But she did wish Miriam well…

      She had put the phone down at this point but it had been too late. Belinda’s words had burnt themselves like a branding iron into her mind. She had known then that her marriage was over.

      Of course, Jay had denied everything when she’d told him what Belinda had said later that day when he had called her to ask when she was returning home. Belinda was a woman scorned, he’d insisted. When he had told her there was no way they could work together again after what had happened she had become abusive, threatening all sorts of repercussions. This was her revenge for his rejection of her. It was perfectly obvious, wasn’t it? Transparent, even.

      The conversation had rapidly developed into a fullscale row with things said on both sides that would have been better unsaid. In the end she had told him she was going to see about getting somewhere else to live in the morning; she wouldn’t be returning to the apartment. Ever. There had been a long pause and then his voice had been quiet, almost conversational, when he had said, ‘You must do as you see fit, Miriam. Whatever I thought we had, I was mistaken. You’ve never loved me, not if you’re prepared to bail out the first time we hit a problem.’

      It had been the final straw. ‘A problem?’ she’d screamed down the phone. ‘A problem is leaving the top off the toothpaste every morning or forgetting a birthday or not cleaning the bath properly after you’ve used it. This isn’t a problem, Jay. This is a third person in our marriage and it’s one too many for me.’

      ‘You don’t trust me. You’re prepared to take Belinda’s word against mine. Damn it, you want to believe her.’

      Maybe the harsh note of anger and resentment in his voice should have warned her. ‘If that’s the way you want to look at it,’ she’d replied, feeling as though she was dying inside.

      ‘Then perhaps some time apart is best. When you’re prepared to at least listen to what I have to say, contact me.’ And he’d put the phone down. Just like that.

      Miriam slung the book to one side. Sliding out of bed, she fixed herself another mug of hot chocolate and took a couple of aspirin for the headache, switching the TV on and watching an old comedy programme while she drank.

      It was nearly an hour later before she settled down in bed again and this time, with the help of the aspirin and not least because she was emotionally exhausted, she fell straight to sleep.

      CHAPTER TWO

      ‘ARE you sure you’re doing the right thing? I could come with you if you like; your ex wouldn’t frighten me.’

      Miriam smiled at Clara. ‘You haven’t met Jay.’

      ‘I don’t have to meet him to know that.’ Clara grinned. The day before she had dyed her hair a bright fuchsia red, leaving a halo of purple round her face. The effect was extraordinary. ‘I haven’t come across one of the male species yet who frightens me. It’s usually the other way round if anything.’

      ‘Thanks, but it’s better I get this over and done with as quickly as possible and without antagonising him before a word’s said.’

      Clara nodded. ‘As long as you’re up to it.’

      Up to it? Never in a hundred years. ‘Course I am,’ Miriam said brightly.

      ‘You ought to make it clear you’re going to take him for every penny you can get,’ the normally unmaterialistic Clara said darkly. ‘The rat.’

      ‘I don’t want his money,’ said Miriam simply. ‘I just want out with the minimum of fuss.’ She still felt too bruised, too sore to engage in a fight over who had what. Besides, she had brought nothing into the marriage; all the wealth was Jay’s and he could keep it.

      Clara surveyed her under kohl-blackened lids. ‘He’s an idiot to have lost you.’

      ‘He doesn’t think so.’

      ‘You look great tonight anyway.’ Now Clara was bracing. ‘You’ll knock him dead.’

      She wished. Miriam turned and looked at herself in the mirror. Clara had come round as soon as she had got in from work, announcing she intended to keep her company until zero hour, as she’d put it.

      Miriam had appreciated the thought, but in truth she’d rather have got ready in peace so she could go over—for the umpteenth time—the question-and-answer scenarios she’d played endlessly in her head since Tuesday. She felt so incredibly nervous, and now she was wondering if the plum jersey wool dress with a deep V-neck was dressy enough for dinner with Jay. She supposed it depended on where he was taking her, but Jay invariably favoured the more upmarket places.

      She surveyed her reflection. Her black stiletto court shoes and ridiculously expensive designer jacket, which she had bought especially for tonight, gave the outfit that exclusive edge though, she comforted herself after another sweeping glance. They should do; they’d practically emptied her bank account.

      ‘You’ll be absolutely fine.’ Clara had obviously read her thoughts. ‘You will, Miriam. Really. Look, you’re over him; that’s what you have to keep telling yourself. You’re the one in control now. OK?’

      She could tell herself that all she wanted, but she knew the truth. Swallowing hard, Miriam muttered, ‘What’s the time?’ just as the buzzer in the bedsit sounded. ‘It’s him.’ Pure panic set in as she stared at Clara. ‘I can’t do this.’

      ‘Of course you can.’

      ‘I’m not like you.’

      ‘That’s true, you’re not. No one’s like me. At least, I hope not or else the effort I put in to being an original is totally wasted.’ Clara gave another of her Cheshirecat grins. ‘Do you want me to answer?’

      ‘No, I’ll do it.’ Taking a deep breath, Miriam pressed the button. ‘Hello?’

      ‘Miriam? It’s Jay.’

      Miriam’s stomach did a somersault. ‘I’ll be right down.’ There was no way she was going to give him the satisfaction of seeing how she lived now. The house she had rented with her friends when she’d met him hadn’t exactly been the Ritz, but they’d had a lovely shared sitting room and kitchen-diner and each of their bedrooms had been a double. Not that she was ashamed of her bedsit, she told herself silently, but she wasn’t going to give him any chance of crowing about her reduced circumstances.

      ‘You’ll be fine,’ Clara said again after some moments when Miriam still hadn’t moved. ‘Here, take your bag.’ She handed it to her, adding, ‘Come on,’ as she opened the bedsit door. ‘I want to see him.’

      ‘You can’t.’ Miriam stared at her in horror.

      ‘I can. I’m going