She bit down on her lower lip, said in a smothered sob, ‘I know, I’m sorry.’
Tom looked down at the floor, face tense, then walked past her into the sitting room. Pippa closed the front door and followed him. As she appeared he turned on her and grated, ‘Who is he?’
She was startled—hadn’t he recognised Randal? She had been certain he must have done, but of course Tom had only seen him briefly, in the dark, and he had been in shock, himself, after the accident.
‘Randal Harding,’ she prompted, but Tom’s face remained blank.
Then he said slowly, ‘I’ve heard that name before somewhere. Does he work at the office?’
She shook her head. ‘No. The car crash the other night, remember?’
Tom stared, eyes widening. ‘The car crash? My God, yes, you’re right—that was the name of the fellow whose car hit ours.’ He brushed his pale hair back, forehead creased, visibly thinking back. ‘But…I don’t understand… You didn’t even speak to him that night; you stayed in the car. Don’t tell me he came here today and talked his way in?’ His voice deepened. ‘Did he attack you? Is that what was happening just now? Was he trying to…? Pippa, what did he do to you?’
She shook her head, close to hysterical tears as it dawned on her that he was handing her the perfect alibi, making up a story for her to use. But she couldn’t lie to him or put all the blame on Randal, even though he might deserve it.
She had asked him to go away and leave her alone but he wouldn’t go. Briefly she was tempted to tell Tom what he clearly wanted to hear—that she was innocent, that Randal had been forcing her. But, no, she had to tell Tom the truth, however painful and embarrassing. She had lied to him by omission for the past four years, hiding a very important piece of her life from him. She had to tell the whole truth now.
‘No, Tom. I know him. I knew him before the accident. I worked for him before I came to work with you.’ She swallowed, very pale, holding herself rigid. ‘I…we…’ What should she tell him? How should she explain? She and Randal had not been lovers, but they might have been, if she hadn’t left.
Tom leapt to the obvious conclusion, face grim. She had always thought of him as boyish. That young, cheerful look had gone now. ‘He was your lover?’
‘No!’ She hesitated, making herself expound on the flat denial, because he had to understand how it had been. ‘Well…no, but…he might have been. That was why I left. He was married with a child. I couldn’t break that up, but I wasn’t prepared to be his mistress, so I resigned and left the firm. I haven’t seen him since.’
Tom ran a hand over his face, as if to expunge all trace of emotion from it before he spoke. When he did, he sounded almost calm, his voice flat, toneless. ‘Why didn’t you tell me the other night? You must have recognised him.’
‘Yes, of course, at once.’
It had been a blinding trauma, the instant when Randal had got out of his car and she’d seen those long legs, the windblown black hair, the strong, sardonic face. Time had rushed backwards at an alarming pace. She had felt like a girl again, trembling and breathless.
‘Then why didn’t you tell me you knew him?’
‘I couldn’t bear to. I didn’t know what to say. And I thought it wasn’t necessary. After all, nothing had really happened. We were attracted to each other, and might have become lovers, but I went away, so it didn’t happen. There was nothing to tell. And I didn’t think I’d ever see him again after that night.’
‘But today you did.’
‘Yes.’
She knew what he must be thinking—and she couldn’t blame him. She hadn’t set eyes on Randal for four years until the accident, and today they had ended up naked in bed together within hours. Tom was justified in being shocked. She was shocked herself. She had thought she knew herself pretty well, could predict how she would behave in any given situation. She had had to learn that there were depths of her nature she hadn’t had any idea about. But, after all, how well did anyone know themselves?
‘I really am sorry, Tom. I never guessed what would happen,’ she stammered, very flushed.
‘Are you saying he did force you?’
She wished she could say yes, but shook her head. ‘No, he didn’t use force—he’s devious and scheming, but never violent.’
Randal had had no need to use force. He had used her own feelings and desires against her and had a walk-over because she was too weak to defend herself. Whatever she might say to him, however fiercely she rejected him, Randal had some way of seeing past all that and realising his power over her.
Tom took a long, rough breath. ‘What exactly are you telling me, Pippa? That you’re in love with him?’
She bit her lip, staring back in helpless silence.
Tom slowly nodded. ‘And not with me. You’ve always said so and that’s the truth, isn’t it? You’ll never be in love with me.’
Pippa still couldn’t find the words to answer him. She could not lie, and yet how could she tell the honest to God truth without hurting him even more?
‘Well, say something!’ Tom shouted, his face white. ‘Surely you can say something! Aren’t I entitled to that, at least?’
Moistening her lip with the tip of her tongue, she took a deep breath, whispered, ‘Tom…I’m so sorry…I don’t know what to say. But it isn’t love, that isn’t what I feel for him, I don’t even know what it is I do feel. Only that I don’t seem able to control it.’
He laughed mirthlessly. ‘And all this time I’ve been
