Free Why Pick On ME? by James Hadley Chase Page B

beautiful.
    “I wish this hadn’t happened,” she said, as she slipped on the wrap. “I’m afraid it is going to be very bad for me.”
    “Why do you say that?”
    “Because it is.”
    She went out of the room.
    While she was away, Corridon turned on the bedside lamp and looked at the time. It was twenty minutes past eleven. He lit a cigarette and frowned up at the ceiling. He knew he should get into touch with Marian Howard and tell her what was being planned for tomorrow night, but he couldn’t be bothered. He didn’t want to think about that now. Lorene had surrendered so completely to him that he now felt tender towards her, recognizing, with a resigned grimace, that he was about to enter one of his sentimental moods. It wouldn’t last, of course, but while it was on him, he was ready to enjoy it. He had forced himself on her for a purpose. He knew women. If she accepted him as a lover, he had an even chance of binding her to him. He had an idea he had succeeded.
    He passed his hands over his muscular shoulders, then swung his legs off the bed and went over to her wardrobe in the quest of something to put on. He found a man’s dressing-gown hanging amongst her things. It was a little tight across the shoulders and rather too short for him, but he decided to wear it. He returned to the bed and sat down, running his fingers through his thick hair and frowning.
    “Slade would be pleased if he saw you,” Lorene said as she came in with a tray. “For goodness’ sake don’t split it. It looks horribly fragile on you.”
    Corridon examined the tray. There were slices of cold chicken, thin bread and butter, peaches out of season and an impressively large cocktail shaker.
    “Not bad,” he said approvingly. “But to have scored a real success you should have cooked me something.”
    “Be quiet!” Lorene said, setting the tray on the bed. “You really are an impossible creature.”
    “Why should this be bad for you?” he asked, helping himself to chicken. “Is there something sinister behind that remark of yours?”
    “You know as well as I do,” she said, not looking at him. She unscrewed the cap of the cocktail shaker and poured two martinis. “Don’t pretend you don’t know.”
    “Tell me. This is no time to be repressed.”
    “I’ve fallen in love with you,” she said. “I hate being in love. It makes everything so damned complicated. I knew it would happen if we misbehaved. Well, it has.”
    “What’s wrong with falling in love with me?” Corridon asked mildly as he dipped chicken in the salt. “You should be pleased, surely?”
    “You’re not the kind of man any girl should fall in love with. You know that as well as I do. It’s not in you to love anyone. The thing is one-sided, and the woman is bound to get hurt.”
    Corridon didn’t like the turn of the conversation.
    “Women love to exaggerate. Why should you get hurt? I’ll be very nice and kind to you.”
    “I dare say,” she said, handing him a martini, “but you won’t love me, and oddly enough, there is a difference.” She shrugged impatiently. “But never mind. It’s my funeral. Does it amuse you to know I am in love with you?”
    “Aren’t you being a little bitter? The trouble with women is when they have an affair they immediately jump to the conclusion it’s going to be permanent. Why can’t they accept the situation as a man does and be happy for the day instead of moping about tomorrow? Nothing is permanent. In a week’s time you’ll probably find someone much nicer than I am, and you’ll forget all about me. For goodness’ sake don’t dramatize yourself.”
    “And that is what is called leaving the back door open,” she said lightly, and smiled at him. “Very well, nothing is permanent. When you are tired of me, you can retire gracefully. Let’s love for today as tomorrow never comes.”
    Corridon began to skin a peach.
    “I’m sorry you feel like this about it,” he said. “But you must admit