Emma Darcy - The Master Player

Was she considering the self-serving promises her husband was holding out to her? Tony Lipton would have played the victim to the hilt, begging forgiveness, pleading for another chance to make a go of their marriage-cancel out his affair with Laura, cancel out her affair with Max, make a fresh start, have a family together…

‘Max, you’re wearing out my carpet.’

The dry comment jolted him into realising he was prowling around Angus’s office like a fiercely frustrated tiger, wanting to lash out at the situation, yet hemmed in by bars he couldn’t simply knock aside. Chloe was no longer living on his property, not so readily accessible, especially if she didn’t choose to be. And she was still married to Tony Lipton, who was undoubtedly trying to capitilise on Laura Farrell’s deceit.

He came to a halt in front of Angus’s desk, who leaned back in his chair and held up his hands in mock fear of being shot down where he sat. ‘Whoa! I’m not the target. I’m the negotiator, remember? Just point me in the direction you want to take…’

‘She’s mine!’ The words snapped out in an explosive burst of feeling. His hand sliced the air as violently as a slashing sword. ‘I don’t want that worm of a husband wriggling back into her life!’

Angus shrugged, looking askance at Max as though his behaviour was distinctly weird. ‘Why would she take him back?’ he queried in a tone of calm reasoning.

Max snarled back at him. ‘Because the P.A.’s pregnancy has been proved fraudulent. Because Tony Lipton knows how to twist that to his advantage-an infidelity trade-off-plus all the forever promises of love, having a family.’ He threw up his hands. ‘That pregnancy was the breaking point because Chloe wanted a baby.’

‘Then give her one, Max. Give her one.’

As though it was the simplest thing in the world!

Max rolled his eyes.

Angus proceeded to argue his strategy, the grey eyes glinting absolute certainty behind the frameless spectacles. ‘If Chloe wants children, sooner or later you’re going to lose her if you’re not prepared to give her any. Basic instinct in most women. Given that you want to keep her, there’s only one sure-fire win position for you to take, Max. Otherwise, you’d best start resigning yourself to letting her go.’

He couldn’t bear the thought of letting her go. It would be totally intolerable to watch her walk away from him to share her life with someone else.

Angus wriggled his fingers in a weighing-up gesture. ‘You’ve never had a problem attracting beautiful women. I happen to think that Chloe Rollins has something very special, but…it’s your life, Max. Your choice.’

Angus was right.

There was only one sure-fire way to win.

The only question was…would Chloe want to join him in the longest run that two people could ever take on together?

CHLOE sat on the garden bench in the small backyard, feeding Luther pieces of ham as he frolicked around her feet. It was good to be outside in the open air, good to have the uncomplicated company of her darling little dog. She didn’t feel like eating lunch herself yet. The meeting with Tony had left her with a sense of deep distaste. She didn’t want to talk about it, either.

Her mobile telephone lay beside her on the bench, along with the mug of coffee she’d brought out to drink. Max would be expecting a call from her. She’d promised to let him know the outcome of the meeting. Dirty business, she thought, the whole thing so horribly grubby she didn’t want to rehash it.

Especially the sex in the bathroom bit. Had Max ever had a similar experience while he was in one of his past relationships? Had he knocked it back or let it happen, enjoying the thrill of unplanned pleasure? How much had a woman ever really meant to him, beyond the sexual satisfaction he both took and gave?

She barely registered the distant ringing of the doorbell but Luther went streaking inside to bark at the caller behind the front door. Chloe didn’t move, reluctant to see or talk to anyone. It rang a few more times. Luther kept barking. Chloe reasoned that both Gerry Anderson and Max had her mobile telephone number. They could call her to check if she was in or not. No-one else had the right to bother her.

Whoever was at the door eventually went away. Luther returned, looking triumphantly pleased with himself for having driven off what was obviously an unwelcome visitor. He trotted over to her to be petted and she smiled at him, leaning down to pick him up and set him on her lap, where he curled up contentedly as she patted him.

‘I’m glad I’ve got you, Luther,’ she murmured-the something real Max had given her as a substitute for a baby.

A thoughtful gift.

A caring gift.

But also a stop-gap gift because Max had no intention of giving her a baby.

She realised now why he had commented on her relatively young age-only twenty-seven, not old enough to be desperate about the biological clock. He obviously hadn’t wanted to feel guilty about holding up her need for motherhood. Parenthood was not in Max’s plans. Lust was a temporary thing in his life, not to be encumbered with any lasting commitment. He’d acted with integrity, but also with self-interest. Which was fair enough, Chloe told herself. It wasn’t his fault that she wanted so much more from him.

Luther stirred, his head lifting, ears pricking up, a low growl rumbling in his throat as he stared at the back fence, which closed off the property from a narrow alley between the rows of terrace houses. The gate allowing access to the alley started rattling. Luther leapt off her lap and raced down the yard, barking his head off.

Chloe was stirred to action herself. The gate was bolted so no-one could gain easy entry, but someone intent on burgling might scale the two-metre fence. Since the front doorbell hadn’t been answered, the assumption might well have been made that no-one was home. Breaking in from the backyard was nowhere near as public as from the street along Centennial Park.

She picked up the mobile phone and quickly followed Luther down to the fence. ‘I’m calling the police if you don’t quit shoving at my gate,’ she yelled out. ‘Just go away or I’ll hit triple zero right now!’

‘Chloe!’ It sounded like a cry of relief. ‘It’s me…your mother. I was worried about you. Let me in, for God’s sake!’

Chloe was too stunned to reply. Her mother! Here! Who had told her this address? Laura Farrell had tracked it down so it probably wasn’t incredible that another determined person could and her mother was nothing if not determined.

‘Chloe!’ The demanding tone was back in force. ‘Let me in!’

‘No, I don’t think I will,’ she answered, bridling against her mother’s relentless will-power. ‘There’s no need to worry about me. I’m perfectly okay.’

‘I don’t believe it,’ her mother snapped. ‘You always hid when you were upset about things and that’s what you’re doing-hiding in there. I can help straighten everything out for you, Chloe. Just open the gate…’

‘I don’t want your help, Mother. Please go and leave me alone.’

‘I know all about the Laura Farrell fraud. I know what went on in your meeting with Tony this morning. He desperately wants you back, Chloe…’

‘Have you come as his ambassador?’

‘No, of course not! Though I’d have to say he’d be more devoted to you from now on than Max Hart ever will be, but it’s you that I care about. What’s best for you.’

‘I can work that out for myself, thank you.’

‘No, you can’t. You have no idea. You’re a babe in the woods in this business. Max Hart will exploit you for as long as you’re starry-eyed with him. You have to understand his interest in you won’t last, and if I’m not at your side to make sure there’s no fallout damage, you could sink without a trace. If you’re clued in you can use this affair with him as a stepping stone. You’ve got to learn how to use your head, baby! I can teach you, show you how to work the angles…’

Revulsion created waves of nausea through Chloe’s empty stomach. The strident voice went on, spelling out how she could use Max to advance her career, to extract as much as she could from him while the affair was still running hot, because it would end…

It would end…

‘Stop it!’ she screamed, unable to bear hearing any more.

‘Chloe, this is why you need me,’ her mother argued. ‘Let me in, baby, so we can talk it through. I’m your mother. I’ll always be here for you. You need me.’

‘No!’ Chloe clapped her hands over her ears. ‘I’m going inside now. Leave me be, Mother, or I will call the police.’

The voice kept trying to beat at her mind as she bolted away from the fence, almost tripping over Luther, who was scampering around her, distressed at her distress. It was a relief to reach the door into the kitchen, even more of a relief to close herself inside the house. She pelted up the stairs to her bedroom, stripped off her clothes, crawled into bed, buried her face in the pillow and dragged the bed-covers over her head, shutting out the rest of the world and everyone in it.

She didn’t care if it was hiding.

Sometimes hiding was the only way to fend off the unbearable.

Max waited for Chloe’s call all afternoon, growing more and more tense as the silence from her continued. It wasn’t in her nature to break a promise. Had the meeting with Tony stirred such deep mental and emotional turmoil that contacting him felt wrong to her? Whatever was going on, Max couldn’t shake the feeling that he was on the losing end of it.

By five o’clock he was determined on confronting the situation. He drove to her house. She didn’t answer the doorbell. Luther didn’t bark at it, either. It suggested she had gone out and taken the dog with her, possibly for a walk in the park. He crossed the street. It took him half an hour of criss-crossing Centennial Park to assure himself she wasn’t there. Totally frustrated at this point, Max whipped out his mobile phone and called her, only to be frustrated further by finding hers was switched off.

He returned to the house, rang the doorbell again. No answer. Chloe had given him a key for his convenience if she was occupied when he arrived at her door. This was not an expected visit and Max was reluctant to use it without her implicit permission. Invasion of privacy did not sit well with him, yet the possibility that something might be badly wrong inside could not be ignored. More accidents occurred in the home than anywhere else.

He unlocked the front door, opened it. As he stepped into the hallway, a low growl alerted him to Luther’s presence. He looked up. The dog stood at the top of the stairs, stiff-legged and bristling, ready to leap into attack until he recognised Max. Then he relaxed and trotted off in the direction of Chloe’s bedroom.

Was she asleep? At this hour of the day? Sick? Too ill to move?

Max closed and relocked the door, moved quickly and quietly to the staircase. Conscious of his heart beating much faster than normal, he mounted the stairs two at a time, anxious to check out the situation, do whatever was needed to be done.

She was in bed. Clothes were strewn carelessly around the floor as though getting them off had been her one thought. Only the top of her blonde silky hair was visible above the bed-covers. Her body was tightly curled up beneath them. Luther had nestled himself on the pillow next to hers, obviously intent on being as close as he could, waiting for her face to emerge as well as guarding against her being disturbed.

Max stood beside them for a while, listening to Chloe’s breathing. As far as he could tell it was normal. He resisted the urge to strip off his own clothes and join her in bed, not for sex, simply to hold her close and assure himself everything was still right between them. But he knew it wasn’t right. She had shut him out. Whether it was a deliberate act or an emotionally fraught one he had no idea. Either way he intended to fight the decision.

He pulled up a chair and sat beside the bed-man and dog both waiting for the most important person in their lives to stir, to respond to them again.

Chloe moved sluggishly towards consciousness. Her eyelids felt too heavy to lift. It was easier to leave them closed. She might slide back into oblivion again. The memory of crying herself to sleep made a blank nothingness more desirable than having her mind recall the reasons for her misery, starting up another tormenting treadmill of thoughts. Better to keep them blocked out.

She took a deep breath and wriggled into a different position, frowning as she realised there was other movement on the bed. Then a small wet tongue licked her forehead. Luther! Had she slept a long time, missing on giving him dinner? It was wrong to keep indulging herself if he was hungry. He’d been such a good guard dog.