Kitabı oku: «Nights of Passion», sayfa 4

CHAPTER FIVE

IT WAS meant to be a way of comforting her, of showing his support, of proving he wasn’t a selfish bastard like her exhusband appeared to be, or so he told himself. But it didn’t turn out that way. From the moment their bodies came together, from the moment her tee shirt parted from her jeans and he felt the softness of bare flesh beneath his hands, a knot of pure sensual need twisted in his belly.

She was breathing rapidly, her breasts flattened against his chest so he could feel every agitated gulp she took. Her lips were parted and the warmth of her breath was moistening the skin of his throat, spreading heat to every sensitised extremity.

‘Rachel,’ he said again, his voice thicker now, and the urge to slide his hand beneath her shirt and find the swollen peaks that were rubbing oh-so-sensuously against his shirt proved irresistible. He could see the pulse palpitating just beneath her ear, and he wondered how it would feel against his tongue.

He thought she said something then, but the faint whisper of her voice was drowned by the pounding of his own heart. With the womanly scent of her body to distract him, it was hard to think of anything but how incredible it would feel to have her naked beneath him.

He was becoming aroused. His trousers were becoming uncomfortably tight, and he guessed if he could feel it she could feel it, too. Not that that stopped him from wanting her, but it was time to grasp what little control he had left and put an end to this madness.

It took an effort, but he pulled his hands from beneath her tee shirt and raised them to her shoulders. Then gently, but firmly, he attempted to put some space between them. It would be easier to think without the innocent sexuality of her body seducing his, he told himself grimly. But when he saw her face, his good intentions crumbled. She looked so bewildered suddenly that something inside him seemed to snap. With a groan of resignation, he abandoned any hope of getting out of this unscathed. Pulling her against him again, he captured her face between his palms and lowered his head to hers.

Her lips were barely parted, but when he skimmed his tongue over the full lower one she caught her breath. Joe pushed his tongue inside, searching, possessing, doing what he admitted he’d wanted to do since he’d first glimpsed those tears on her face.

‘Dear God,’ he muttered, as desire rose hotly to the surface. His hands slid down her spine, moulding her to him, finding the provocative curve of her bottom before gripping the back of her thighs.

The kiss deepened and Rachel’s world seemed to narrow to this man’s mouth, this man’s hands. Her head was swimming, emotions she’d never experienced before causing her whole body to feel hot and alive. She was drowning in a dark sea of intimacy, of passion, where the satisfaction of her senses was the only thing that mattered.

Joe’s senses rocketed, the blood pounding in his ears, his mind spinning dizzily out of control. With his fingers spreading against the back of her head, he crushed his mouth to hers with increasing urgency. He wasn’t doing anything wrong, he told himself. Not when she was kissing him back with a hunger that matched his own.

And then, from a distance, Rachel heard a familiar voice calling her. ‘Mum! Mum!’ There was a pause, which allowed her to identify the sound. ‘Mum, can’t I come down now?’

Daisy!

Oh God!

Rachel’s strangled cry startled Joe. He, too, had heard the other voice, his brain scrambling to remember where he was. Then, like a douche of cold water, it came to him: he was trying to seduce Steve Carlyle’s ex-wife.

He pulled away automatically at the same moment Rachel was wrenching herself free. For God’s sake, what had he been thinking? What crazy impulse had made him behave like a savage?

Rachel was heading for the door into the hall. He could see she was panicking, unaware that her tee shirt was loose and crumpled and that his stubble had scraped her cheeks. Her hair was loose from its knot. It tumbled down around her shoulders, and Joe wondered how it would feel if he threaded his fingers through the silky strands. However, the look she cast at him over her shoulder brought the whole situation into damning focus.

He’d goofed, and badly. Her expression said it all. And while he wasn’t totally to blame for what had happened, if he hadn’t touched her the situation would never have developed as it had.

‘Hey,’ he said, causing her to glance back at him again. However, when she lifted a warning hand to silence him, he muttered, ‘You might want to check yourself out before you leave. Or do you want your daughter to know what you’ve been doing?’

Rachel halted abruptly, her hand going to her tumbled hair, discovering the pins that had held it in place had disappeared. They were scattered all over the floor, she saw with an inward groan, but she didn’t have time to find them all now. Pulling open a drawer where she kept pens and notepads, she found an elastic band and, gathering her hair in one hand, she secured it in an untidy pony-tail.

She saw Joe arch a mocking brow as she started for the door again, but her attention was concentrated on her daughter now. ‘Just—just give us a couple more minutes, Daisy,’ she called when she reached the doorway. ‘We’re almost through.’

Ain’t that the truth? thought Joe as Daisy answered with a long drawn-out, ‘O-kay.’ Once again, he was asking himself how on earth he’d allowed himself to be distracted. Rachel was attractive, sure, but she wasn’t his type. And from the way she was looking at him, he certainly wasn’t hers.

She turned back to him with evident reluctance. He sensed she wanted to say something to defend herself, but she must know as well as he did that what had happened couldn’t be explained away. ‘I think you’d better go,’ she said at last, and he could tell she was struggling to appear more composed than she was. She licked her lips, lips that were still swollen from his lovemaking, Joe saw with some satisfaction. ‘I don’t know what I’m going to do about Daisy. I’ll let you know when I’ve had time to think.’

‘To think about what?’ Joe sagged back against the table. ‘Oh, please, don’t tell me you’re going to make this an excuse for refusing to let Daisy go and visit with her dad?’

‘No.’ Rachel squared her shoulders. ‘No, she can go. I’m just not sure she should go with you.’

Joe stared at her disbelievingly. ‘Why?’ he demanded, his patience shredding. Frustration was making him antsy, and he wasn’t in the mood for any more of her attitude. ‘I hope you’re not implying that because I kissed you I’m not to be trusted with your daughter. Grow up, Rachel. You’re acting like a spoiled brat.’

‘And we both know that’s not true, don’t we?’ she retorted. She shook her head. ‘I have to think about this. I’m older than you. I can’t just dismiss what just happened as you apparently can.’

Joe blinked. ‘Why do you think you’re older than me?’ he exclaimed blankly. ‘I’m thirty-four, and I know for a fact that Steve’s only thirty-five.’

‘Steve’s not thirty-five!’ The words were out before she could prevent them. ‘He’s two years older than me. He’ll be forty on his next birthday.’

Joe looked surprised. ‘You’re sure about that?’ he asked, and she wondered if she’d put her foot in it again.

‘I’m sure,’ she admitted in a low voice, and Joe realised he hadn’t taken Daisy’s age into consideration. He remembered Steve telling him in one of his more confidential moments that he’d been married for five years before Daisy had been born.

Rachel had opened the fridge again and was stowing some tomatoes into the salad drawer. Her face was red, and he wondered what she was thinking. For his part, he was trying to come to terms with the fact that she was thirty-seven. She certainly didn’t look it. Or act it, he conceded, reliving those moments when he’d been inclined to believe she was as inexperienced as Daisy.

‘Look,’ he said gently. ‘I’m sorry, okay? What happened, happened. I’m not ashamed of it. You’re a beautiful woman. I only did what any man in my position would have done.’

Rachel wondered if that was entirely true. She couldn’t imagine Steve touching her in that way. But then, she and Steve should never have got married, never have had a baby. It was one of those sad anomalies that Daisy definitely hadn’t kept them together.

‘Is everything all right?’ Daisy was suddenly standing in the doorway, eyeing them both with a mixture of anticipation and apprehension. She frowned at her mother. ‘Why is your face red? Is something wrong?’

Rachel couldn’t prevent her hand from going to her cheek, and she glanced guiltily at Joe before saying, ‘Nothing’s wrong, Daisy. Mr Mendez was just leaving.’

Daisy wasn’t stupid. ‘Leaving?’ she echoed. ‘So—are the arrangements for Monday already made?’

‘You’d better ask your mother,’ said Joe, without sympathy. ‘I think she might be having second thoughts.’

He knew a moment’s remorse when Rachel turned agonised eyes in his direction, but he refused to pretend that all was well when it so obviously wasn’t.

‘Why?’ Daisy gazed at her mother now. ‘I thought you’d agreed to let me go.’

‘I did.’ Rachel was defensive. ‘It’s just—’

‘Your mother doesn’t trust me,’ said Joe flatly, pushing away from the table. His eyes bruised Rachel’s. ‘I suggest you let me know when you’ve decided what you want to do.’

‘Oh, but—’

Daisy’s eyes had filled with tears and, before she could beg him to reconsider, Rachel intervened. ‘There’s no need for that,’ she said stiffly. ‘Just tell me where and at what time you’d like us to meet you on Monday and we’ll be there.’

Joe blew out a breath. ‘My chauffeur will pick her up about nine o’clock Monday morning,’ he responded. ‘If you change your mind again, let me know.’

Shelley was waiting at Eaton Court Mews when he got back.

She’d evidently been there for some time, because a tray of coffee was cold on the table and her face mirrored her impatience with his behaviour earlier.

‘Where the hell have you been?’ she demanded as soon as he strolled into the sitting room. ‘What do you mean by walking out like that? I go to sleep with you beside me and I wake up to find you’ve gone.’

‘Sorry.’ But Joe wasn’t in the mood to make more apologies and when Charles followed him into the room he turned with some relief. ‘Black coffee, please,’ he said. ‘And perhaps Ms Adair might like to join me. Oh, and do you have any of those English muffins? I could do with something hot and sweet.’

‘I hope you’re not looking at me,’ said Shelley, her tone softening as if she realised this was not the time to start a slanging match. But Joe only shook his head and lounged into a comfortable leather armchair.

‘Just food,’ he said, and Charles withdrew before another argument ensued.

However, realising he was allowing his frustration towards Rachel to influence his mood, Joe looked up at Shelley standing by the window. ‘Have you been here long?’

She shrugged. Although he’d only thrown his clothes on before leaving her apartment, she had evidently taken some trouble with her appearance. A pale blue gauze dress dipped provocatively at her breast before flaring gently to her knees. Four-inch heels added height to her five-feet-ten-inch frame, and her blonde bob had been spiked to perfection. Evidently she’d dressed to please, and he felt guilty that right at this moment her pale good looks left him cold.

‘Long enough,’ she said now, moving over to his chair and perching on the arm. ‘You need a shave, darling. I’m not one of those women who like getting the equivalent of razor burns every time I kiss you.’

Unwanted, the image of Rachel as he’d last seen her flashed into his mind. How was it possible that he’d found her so appealing? So appealing, in fact, that if her daughter hadn’t interrupted them.

‘Joe, you’re not listening to me!’ Shelley’s voice rose again, and now there were hectic splashes of colour in her cheeks. ‘Where have you been? Charles is so tight-lipped. He wouldn’t breathe a word.’

‘That’s what I pay him for,’ said Joe laconically, making no response when she slipped her arm around his neck. ‘There was something I had to do. An arrangement I had to make for Monday. One of the guys back home asked me to fly his daughter over and I needed to check it out.’

Shelley’s shoulders stiffened. ‘His daughter?’

‘Yeah, his daughter.’ Joe glanced up at her. ‘You got an objection?’

‘Several.’ Shelley’s eyes flashed. ‘To start with, how old is she?’

‘Gee, let me see.’ Joe pretended to think about it, hoping the distraction would lighten his mood as well as hers. ‘In her teens, I guess.’

‘Her teens?’ Shelley’s voice rose even higher.

‘Yeah. Thirteen, I think. I can’t remember.’

‘Oh!’ Her relief was evident, but when she bent to rub her lips against his Joe didn’t take the bait.

‘It’s gonna be a busy weekend,’ he said, forcing her to draw back just as Charles came back into the room. ‘Ah, food! You ought to try one of these muffins, Shell. Charles makes them himself, and they’re magic.’

‘I’m glad you find something magical,’ retorted Shelley huffily, getting to her feet again and surveying him with angry blue eyes. ‘I hope this doesn’t mean I won’t see you again before you leave.’

‘Shell—’

‘I’ve brought two cups in case Ms Adair decides to join you,’ Charles interposed swiftly as he set down the tray. He walked back to the door. ‘Let me know if you need anything else.’

‘Thanks.’ As Charles disappeared again, Joe shifted forward and broke a piece off one of the warm muffins. In actual fact, he wasn’t particularly hungry, but it was a way to avoid Shelley’s accusing gaze. ‘Come on,’ he invited. ‘Try a piece.’

‘You know I don’t eat fatty things,’ replied Shelley stiffly. ‘And you shouldn’t either. They’re bad for your cholesterol.’

Joe pulled a wry face. ‘Oh, I think it can stand one English muffin,’ he murmured drily. ‘I promise to use the gym as soon as I get home.’

Shelley’s lips pursed. ‘You love making fun of me, don’t you?’

‘No.’ Joe reached for the pot of coffee. ‘But you sound as if you’ve had a sense of humour bypass.’

Shelley sucked in a breath. ‘I don’t understand you, Joe. When you first got here, you couldn’t wait to see me. Then, last night, you lost consciousness as soon as your head hit the pillow.’

‘I was tired.’ There was a distinct edge to Joe’s voice now, but Shelley didn’t seem to notice.

‘You can’t have been that tired,’ she retorted. ‘You were up early enough this morning. You left the apartment without even waking me. I don’t think you even took a shower. You certainly didn’t leave a message. What was I supposed to think?’

Joe’s jaw clamped. She was right, but he didn’t like hearing about it. He didn’t like the idea that anything that had happened since his arrival in England a week ago should have had any effect on his behaviour. He couldn’t tell her he’d left her bed because he’d been having a hot, sweaty dream about another woman. And this morning he’d suffered a serious lapse of judgment, that was all. It certainly wasn’t terminal.

‘I’ve said I’m sorry,’ he muttered tersely, reaching for his coffee and swallowing it black. He needed a jolt of caffeine to kick-start his brain. He also needed to get his head around the fact that a feisty female with tear-filled green eyes hadn’t permanently rocked his reason.

‘So …’ Shelley’s tongue circled her glossy lips. ‘Will I see you tonight?’

Joe blew out a breath. ‘Not tonight, no.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because I’ve promised this guy whose daughter I was telling you about that I’d go and check on his family.’

‘His family?’

‘His ma and pa.’

Shelley snorted. ‘I don’t believe you.’

‘Your call. But it’s true.’ He paused. ‘You can come with me, if you like.’ That way if, by some unlucky chance Rachel should be there.

But he hadn’t finished the thought before Shelley broke in. ‘You’ve got to be joking! You want me to spend Saturday night visiting some old couple who’re probably senile?’ She snorted. ‘Give me a break.’

‘Okay.’ Joe didn’t argue. ‘Then I guess I’ll see you Sunday night before I leave.’

Shelley groaned. ‘You know I’ve got to attend that awards dinner on Sunday evening. I told you at the start of the week.’

‘Then I guess we won’t see one another until you come to the Caribbean for your photo shoot in November.’

Shelley sulked. ‘Couldn’t you get out of this visit? For me? Please!’

‘Couldn’t you miss the awards dinner?’ he countered.

‘You know I can’t.’

Joe shrugged, ashamed to find he was half relieved. ‘Impasse,’ he said. ‘Come on. Drink your coffee. I’m sure you’ll have no difficulty finding another man to spend your evening with.’

Shelley stalked across the floor. ‘You’re a bastard, do you know that?’

‘So I’ve been told,’ murmured Joe mildly, but the only response he got was the slamming of the door.

CHAPTER SIX

RACHEL was typing a page of her novel for the umpteenth time when the phone rang.

‘Oh, great,’ she muttered broodingly, aware that the story wasn’t going as it should, and that her agent was probably ringing to check on its possible completion.

‘Yes?’ she said, the frustration evident in her voice.

And then she pulled a wry face when Evelyn Carlyle said tartly, ‘I’m sorry if I’m being a nuisance.’

‘Oh, of course you’re not.’ Rachel was contrite. Since Daisy had left for Florida over a week ago, her in-laws had been a constant source of support. ‘I thought it was Marcia. She’s been grumbling because I haven’t got the manuscript finished.’

‘Oh, I see.’ Evelyn sounded mollified. ‘I should have guessed. You looked tired yesterday. Aren’t you sleeping well?’

‘Well enough,’ said Rachel tersely, aware that it was the man who’d escorted her daughter to Florida, not her manuscript, that was disrupting her sleep. It didn’t help to know that, when he’d called on Howard and Evelyn as he’d promised Steve, they’d found him a very personable young man. Evelyn had even expressed the opinion that it was a pity Daisy wasn’t older, which had really set Rachel’s nerves on edge. ‘I just wish Daisy would keep in touch,’ she added now, but her mother-in-law was dismissive.

‘You know what girls are like. She’ll be enjoying herself and calling home will come very low on her list. Besides, Steve would have been on the phone if there was anything wrong.’

Was that supposed to reassure her? For once, Rachel wasn’t in the mood to see Daisy’s point of view. ‘All the same,’ she said tensely, ‘I think she could have made an effort to send me a postcard, at least. She sent me an email when she arrived, but that’s all.’

‘And you’re missing her. I know.’ Evelyn was more sympathetic. ‘And Howard and I are no substitute for your little girl. But she’s growing up, Rachel. She’ll be off to college before you know it. Visiting her father is probably a good thing. It will get you used to her being away.’

‘She’s only thirteen, Lynnie.’

Rachel couldn’t help defending herself, and the older woman sighed. ‘Yes. Yes, I know. But the years go by so quickly.’ She paused. ‘Anyway, didn’t you tell me you’d had a call from Paul Davis?’

Rachel sighed. Paul Davis was the man she used to work for before her writing career had taken off. After the divorce she’d had to get a full-time job to help support herself and Daisy, and Paul had been a good employer. The trouble was, he wanted to be more than that, and he’d taken to calling every few weeks to ask her how she was and, occasionally, ask her out.

And she had been tempted to accept his invitation recently, mostly to get Evelyn off her back. Not that her mother-in-law wanted her to get married again. She still nurtured hopes that she and Steve would get back together.

‘Yes, he rang,’ she said now, resignation setting in at the thought of what was coming next.

‘So why don’t you go out with him?’ Evelyn asked encouragingly. ‘He’s a nice young man, isn’t he? And you deserve some entertainment while Daisy’s away.’

‘He’s hardly young,’ said Rachel drily. ‘He’s fifty or thereabouts. And he’s never been married, Lynnie. He still lives with his widowed mother.’

‘Which shows how dependable he is,’ declared Evelyn firmly. ‘Come on, Rachel. When did you last have a date?’

Too long ago to remember, thought Rachel ruefully as the memory of that scene with Joe Mendez flashed back into her mind. Sometimes she wondered if that had all been a figment of her imagination too. There was no doubt that it had been an unlikely event.

But then she remembered the nights during the past week when she’d awakened to find her breasts taut and sensitive, and an ache twisting low in her stomach that wouldn’t go away. Sometimes she was soaked with sweat, too, her nightshirt clinging wetly to her aroused body. That wasn’t her imagination, she knew, and she’d found it very hard to get back to sleep.

‘Rachel!’

She’d been silent too long and Evelyn was getting impatient. ‘I’m here,’ she said. ‘I was just thinking, perhaps I should go out with Paul.’ Liar! ‘It may be just what I need.’ To get Joe Mendez out of her head.

‘Oh, good.’ Evelyn was pleased, evidently thinking her persuasion had worked. ‘Let me know what happens, won’t you, dear? Howard and I only have your best interests in mind.’

Rachel hung up the phone, wondering if agreeing to go out with Paul had been rather foolish. But she could hardly admit that the last time she’d slept with a man had been after the divorce papers had been delivered. Accepting an invitation to one of Julie Corbett’s parties as a way of getting out of the house had been stupid. Finding herself in Julie’s bedroom after one too many vodka martinis with a man she’d thankfully not seen either before or since had been downright stupid.

Fortunately she hadn’t been too drunk to ensure he’d used protection, but for weeks afterwards she’d worried in case it hadn’t been enough. Still, nothing untoward had happened, but it had been a sobering experience. One she’d vowed would never happen again.

Rachel bought a new outfit for her dinner date with Paul Davis. The low-cut crocheted top and skirt were a delicate shade of turquoise, and complemented the sun-streaked colour of her hair. The top also revealed a tantalising glimpse of cleavage, while the short skirt didn’t exaggerate the provocative curve of her hips. The slightly cropped top also skimmed her midriff, as she appreciated every time she moved and a draught of cooler air brushed against her skin.

But the date itself was a disaster. As Rachel realised halfway through the evening when Paul had talked of nothing but his vintage Jaguar, and the extensive model-railway he had laid out in his mother’s attic. She wished she’d asked Evelyn to ring her, to give her an escape if any was necessary. As it was, she could see the remainder of the evening stretching ahead of her without any relief from Paul’s hobbies.

She had just begun to say she didn’t want a dessert, in the hope of cutting the evening short, when her mobile phone started ringing. Knowing Evelyn’s penchant for gossip, she guessed her mother-in-law was impatient to hear how she was enjoying herself. Or perhaps she’d heard from Daisy, she thought, glad of any distraction. But when she heard Evelyn’s voice, she knew immediately that something was wrong.

‘Hello, Lynnie,’ she said, hoping she was mistaken. ‘This is a surprise.’

‘Oh, darling.’ Evelyn sounded unlike herself. ‘I’m sorry to interrupt your evening. Are you having a good time?’

Not really, thought Rachel. But she said, ‘It’s fine.’ She cast an unwilling glance in Paul’s direction. ‘What is it, Lynnie? Is something wrong?’

But she knew. Before Evelyn spoke, she felt an uneasy shiver slide down her spine. ‘I just thought you’d want to know, that’s all,’ said her mother-in-law as Rachel’s brain raced ahead to a dozen probable scenarios, all of them bad. ‘We’ve had a call from Steve.’

‘Steve?’ The fingers of apprehension tightened their hold around Rachel’s stomach. This must be something to do with Daisy, she thought. Was this why she hadn’t heard from her daughter recently? Oh God, she begged, please don’t let anything bad have happened to her.

‘Rachel!’ Paul was speaking to her now, and she looked at him with uncomprehending eyes. ‘The waiter wants to know what you’d like for dessert,’ he said impatiently. ‘He hasn’t got all night.’

Rachel blinked. ‘Not now,’ she told him unsteadily. Then, to Evelyn, ‘What is it? What’s happened? Is Daisy hurt?’

‘Not seriously, I’m sure.’ Evelyn sounded as if she half wished she hadn’t made the call now. ‘There’s been an accident.’

‘Rachel!’

It was Paul speaking to her again, but Rachel ignored him. ‘What kind of accident?’ she demanded raggedly. ‘When did it happen?’

‘Oh, I’m not sure. Yesterday, the day before—Steve didn’t say.’ Evelyn tried to calm her. ‘They were all out on Lauren’s father’s yacht, apparently. I don’t think it’s anything to worry about, but—’

Rachel sucked in a breath. She’d known. She’d positively known that Daisy would have been in touch if she could. ‘I’m coming home,’ she said. ‘Right now. I want to speak to Steve myself. I want to know exactly how it happened and why I wasn’t told at once.’

‘Um …’ There was something more, but Evelyn evidently thought better of telling her then. ‘Yes, perhaps you should come home,’ she agreed. ‘Then we can discuss all the details.’

Rachel wanted to say ‘What details?’ but it would be easier to wait until she could speak to her mother-in-law face to face. ‘I’ll be about twenty minutes.’

She closed her phone to find Paul staring at her disbelievingly. ‘What’s going on?’ he asked as she pushed back her chair. ‘You’re not leaving?’

‘I’m afraid I am.’ Rachel took a breath. ‘That was Steve’s mother. Daisy’s had an accident. I’ve got to go home so I can call her.’

Paul didn’t look pleased. ‘I’ll drive you,’ he said, but she could tell it was the last thing he wanted to do. He’d been enjoying his meal and, judging by his slight paunch, food played a large part in his enjoyment of life. Along with his car and model railway, of course.

‘There’s no need,’ she said now, gathering up her wrap from the back of her chair. ‘You finish your meal. I can get a taxi. Thanks for—for everything. I’ll probably see you later.’