‘I just needed some air. Are you leaving?’

‘It’s been a long evening. I don’t want your father overdoing things.’

‘I suspect he’s made of sterner stuff than you give him credit for,’ Louise said, with a smile she dredged up from the soles of her designer shoes.

‘Any sign of Max?’ her father asked, glancing at the phone in her hand.

She snapped it shut. ‘No.’ Then she shivered despite the warmth of her coat. ‘To be honest I’m about done here.’

Done with Max. Done with Bella Lucia. Done with the icy damp of a London winter.

‘Do you want a lift home?’

‘It’ll take you out of your way.’

‘No problem.’ He ushered her into the back seat next to her mother, then, having given the driver her address, climbed in next to her.

Neither of them mentioned Max again. Instead as they headed towards Kensington her mother chatted brightly about a holiday they were planning, doing their best to distract her so that she didn’t have to do more than drop in the occasional “umm”. Pretty much all her aching throat could manage.

‘Louise?’ Her mother took her hand, stopped her before she left the car. ‘Are you going to be all right?’

‘Fine,’ she said, pulling herself together, pasting on a smile, hugging them both, fiercely. ‘Fine. I’ll call you tomorrow.’

The red light on her answering machine was winking at her as she let herself in. She switched it on and it informed her that she had ‘one new message’.

‘Lou? It’s Cal. I’ll be in London tomorrow-’ She switched it off. He might be, but she wouldn’t.

‘Have you seen Louise?’

He knew he was in trouble.

It had taken hours to get rid of Gina. She’d had him driving round in circles, taking out her anger, her disappointment, on him. He would have appealed to her better nature, assuming that she had one, but he doubted that a plea to smooth his own path to married bliss would have moved her to pity.

He’d gritted his teeth, telling himself that Louise would have heard what had happened, understand why he had been held up. That he hadn’t stood her up for Bella Lucia.

The party seemed to be in its final stages. Slow music, couples wrapped in each other’s arms. His father was sitting in the bar, a glass of malt in his hand. Wife number four, Bev, was vainly trying to get him to leave.

‘Lost her, have you? Careless that. But you’re a Valentine. We’re made that way.’

‘She’s gone, Max,’ Bev told him. ‘I put my head out of the door for some fresh air and saw her leaving with John and Ivy.’

‘Uh-oh. You are in serious trouble,’ his father said, pointing at him with the glass, which was clearly not his first.

‘More serious than you know.’

‘You were supposed to make a speech, too. Or had you forgotten that? Thanks for all the hard work. Great year. Expansion…’

And the rest. The extra bit about Louise Valentine making him the happiest man alive.

He’d got that wrong, too.

Again.

If he hadn’t bottled out of the gala, tonight wouldn’t have been such a huge, make-or-break deal.

He hadn’t been putting nearly enough effort into making her the happiest woman…

It was very late when he pulled up in front of Louise’s apartment, but he couldn’t let her go to sleep believing that he’d let her down. He had to explain. And when he looked up he could see that there were lights on. Despite his relief that she was still awake, he suspected that was not a good sign. It was the same intuition that warned him not to use the key she’d given him, but ring the bell.

‘Yes?’

‘I need to talk to you, Louise. To explain.’

He’d anticipated resistance, but she buzzed him up without comment. She was still wearing her evening clothes. A dark red figure skimming dress that was slit to the thigh.

‘You look lovely,’ he said, moving to kiss her.

‘Thank you,’ she said, turning away before he could touch her.

He’d expected a rocket. Missiles. Fire.

Her cold politeness was much, much worse. He prayed that she was simply thinking of her neighbours…

‘Look, I’m sorry I didn’t get to the party before you left.’ She waited, her back to him, very still. ‘I had to take a guest to the hospital. Charles Prideaux, the actor.’

‘Really? I hope he gave you his autograph.’

‘Surely someone told you?’

‘No one knew where you were.’ She spun round to face him. ‘Forget me for a moment, Max. That we had a date. That you were going to turn up with the ring and we were going to announce our engagement. You let down your staff, too.’

‘Lou…’ He hadn’t anticipated this kind of reaction. Louise, calm, was a whole new experience and he didn’t know how to get through to her. ‘I had to take the man’s girlfriend home. Before his wife arrived. She was difficult.’

‘That was not your problem, Max.’

‘Yes, dammit, it was. She was going to stay and make a scene. Confront his wife.’

‘And you thought it was your duty to protect the man from the fallout of his infidelity?’

‘Protect his wife.’

‘Of course. My mistake.’

‘You do understand, then?’

‘Yes, Max. I understand.’

She didn’t sound as if she did. If she’d understood, she’d have put her arms around him and held him and made the whole hideous episode go away.

Louise looked at him, confused, a little angry, and thought her heart might just break.

When she’d heard the car draw up outside, had looked out and seen it was Max, her first thought had been to ignore him. She’d used the deadlock on the door so he couldn’t get in. Then he’d rung the doorbell, taking her by surprise, and she’d known that wouldn’t do.

She owed herself more than that. She needed to face him. Put an end to this once and for all. She’d buzzed him up and then slipped out of her wrap and back into her dress. Stepped into shoes that brought her nearly to his height. Full body armour.

She’d wanted him to see that after tonight there was nothing he could do or say that could provoke her into anger, or reduce her to tears. But even then, some little part of her heart had hoped that he’d find a way to touch her. Bring her back to life.

But she couldn’t allow it.

Tonight he’d not only stood her up, but he’d stood up Bella Lucia to save some sham of marriage. Still trying, in his head, to protect his mother from his father’s infidelity. To save himself from the fallout.

And he had no idea what he’d done. He thought he could brush it aside, that all he had to do was turn up, explain and everything would be all right.

‘Is that it?’ she asked.

‘You want me to go?’

He sounded surprised.

‘You’ve apologised, explained. What else did you have in mind?’

‘Don’t be like this, Louise. It was a genuine emergency.’

‘You should have called an ambulance.’

‘Believe me, I wish I had.’ Then, ‘I have the ring…’He reached into his ticket pocket, produced a perfect diamond solitaire.

‘So it’s true. You did find time to visit Garrard’s?’ She took the ring from him before he did anything as hideous as taking her hand and placing it on her finger.

He frowned. ‘How did you know that?’

‘One of the photographers outside the restaurant said you’d been seen there.’ She moved it so that the diamond flashed fire, burning her with its brilliance. ‘Be prepared to read about it in the Courier’s Diary column tomorrow.’

She took one last look at it, then handed it back.

‘You don’t like it?’

‘It’s quite lovely, Max.’ But too late. ‘Unfortunately if you married me you’d be committing bigamy. You’re already married to Bella Lucia.’

‘That’s ridiculous!’

‘Is it? Really?’ She considered trying to explain. That she wasn’t turning him down just for herself, but for him, too. That forcing him to put her first was hurting him as much as always coming a poor second was hurting her. They were bad for each other. But it was too late. She was too tired. And he wouldn’t believe her anyway. Better to keep it simple…‘You did understand what I said on the last occasion you stood me up? You do recall asking for one last chance?’

‘Yes, but…’

‘But?’ She shook her head. ‘Don’t bother to answer that, Max. There is no “us”.’

‘If you’d been there…’he said, a little desperately. Then, angry at being backed into a corner, ‘I don’t know what you expect-’

‘I expect nothing from a man who would put business before life.’ Her throat was beginning to ache. The words were becoming harder. ‘Of a man who is incapable of doing anything else.’

It was why she hadn’t leapt in with an eager ‘yes’ the instant he’d asked her to marry him, she understood that now. Some inner sense of self-preservation had come to her rescue. The small, still voice of common sense telling her that, no matter what he said, he could never change. That she would always be waiting for him to turn up. To a party, their marriage, the rest of their lives.

If she’d made a promise to him nothing short of an act of God would have stopped her from delivering on it, but there was no point in telling him that. All that remained now was pride. The need to walk away with her head high.

‘What we had was great while it lasted, Max, but if we’re honest it was just sex. Steamy, memorable sex, but nothing more than the gratification of old desires.’ The casually dismissive words seemed to be coming from someone else. ‘Curiosity satisfied, ghosts laid,’ she said. ‘Now, we can both move on.’

‘No! I don’t want to move on. I love you!’

‘Need, desire…’

Love was something else. Something more. It was because she loved him that she couldn’t stay with him. Knowing that each time he let her down he’d feel more guilt…

Another minute, she begged, enough strength for just one more minute…

She hadn’t needed a ring, or even for him to say the words. The words meant nothing. ‘I love you’ was in what you did, the way you treated someone.

This was how James must have felt, she realised. Maybe she deserved this numbing blow to her heart that, for the moment, left her beyond feeling. She should be grateful for that reprieve, however short. The pain would come soon enough, but it was a familiar heartache. She’d lived with it before. Through all the years when he was out of reach. She could live with it again. For the moment all she asked was the strength to finish it without falling apart and she crossed to the door, opened it, a silent invitation to leave.

For a long moment Max didn’t move. He just looked at her with the bewildered expression of a child who’d been shouted at and didn’t know why.

He just didn’t get it. Never would…

‘Please…’ she said.

It sounded too much like a plea, too weak and in two strides he was beside her. For a moment she thought he was going to seize her, kiss her as he had before when she’d been on the point of walking away. But this time he just stood there, looking at her as if he was imprinting her image on his brain. Or maybe that was her, taking one last look…

‘I’ll see you tomorrow?’ he asked, finally. ‘At six-thirty?’

Business as usual? Was he serious?

It was too much…

‘You will be there?’ he pressed when she didn’t answer.

She shook her head, but he didn’t take it as a refusal, only as an admission that she didn’t know.

‘You’re exhausted,’ he said. ‘We’ll talk about this tomorrow.’ And then he walked through the door she was not so much holding open as clinging to, down the stairs, out of her apartment. Out of her life.

It was all she could do not to call him back but she hung onto her sanity just long enough to hear the street door close. To close and lock her own front door.

It was only when she heard his car start, pull away from the kerb, that all the bottled up emotion shattered and she picked up her answering machine and hurled it at the wall, where it broke in a dozen pieces, along with her heart.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

MAX left because she’d given him no other option. Louise had somehow managed to blank herself off from him, put herself some place far beyond the flare-up of temper that would have worked for him. He could have used her passion to break her down, bring her into his arms, but she’d put up a wall of ice to keep him out.

That in her own living room at close to two o’clock in the morning, she’d been wearing high heels, a dress he knew she’d have discarded for the comfort of her wrap the minute she’d got home, told him that it was deliberate. That she was playing a part.

The fact that she was still awake, clearly hadn’t even thought about bed, bothered him more. She hadn’t removed her make-up, and her hair was pinned up in that sexy way that suggested all it would take was one pin to bring it all tumbling down in his hands.