by Sara Craven
‘Certainly,’ she said icily. ‘Perhaps I could have a nose job too. Or a breast enlargement. Complete the transformation.’
Alex looked her up and down again, more slowly, his eyes lingering quite deliberately on the rounded curves revealed by the cling of her sweater.
‘No,’ he said gently. ‘No other enhancement is required, believe me.’
Well, I walked into that one, Louise thought, the realisation failing to improve her temper by one iota. I’ll have to learn to think before I speak. Or not speak at all…
She mastered herself. Made herself look back at him coolly. She said, ‘I’m not a total country mouse. I have been in London before, and I don’t need a minder, or a personal shopper. You won’t have any reason to feel ashamed of me, whatever the occasion.’
‘As you wish,’ Alex said after a pause. ‘Then let’s return to the subject of how we should spend today. I thought of a walk in the park followed by lunch by the river, but I’m open to counter-suggestions.’
‘Good,’ she said. ‘Because you don’t need to lead me around the place either. I’m not a visiting tourist.’
‘No,’ he said softly, ‘you’re my future wife, and as I’ve explained I’m simply trying to create a slightly more relaxed situation for us to get to know each other better.’
He paused, leaning against the door frame, his smile thin and suddenly dangerous, setting off alarm signals in her own awareness.
‘But we don’t have to go out,’ he went on cordially. ‘We can stay here and—further our acquaintance just as well. A quiet day at home might be just what we need, because who knows where it might lead?’ He registered her sudden tension, her widening eyes and lips parting in shock, and his smile widened sardonically. ‘And it has the added bonus, of course, that I don’t even need to get dressed,’ he added gently.
There was a silence that seemed to stretch out, screaming, into infinity.
Then Louise said quietly, huskily, ‘On second thoughts, maybe I’d rather go out after all.’
‘You have wisdom beyond your years,’ Alex said silkily. ‘And I shall just have to control my disappointment.’
‘I’m sorry.’ Her eyes and voice were stony. ‘But I’m sure you won’t lack for consolation.’
‘Well,’ he said, ‘there’s a lot of it about. I won’t be lonely.’ He paused. ‘But you, my sweet, might be. Have you thought of that?’
‘No,’ she said, with great clarity. ‘Because my consolation will be the thought of all the money you’re going to pay me.’ She took a quick breath. ‘And the exquisite certainty that I’ll never have to see you again.’
For a brief moment his eyes narrowed, and she thought her words might just have got under his guard.
But the next second he was grinning at her, apparently unmoved. ‘In that case,’ he told her, ‘I’d better make the most of you, darling, while you’re around.’
And left her staring after him, her arms wrapped round her body in sudden, uneasy defensiveness. Knowing that it was her own guard, in fact, that was under the real threat.
She thought, Oh, God, I’m going to have to be careful—so very careful…
CHAPTER SIX
IN SPITE of the misgivings which tormented her, Louise found herself forced to admit that a walk had been exactly what she needed. And, traffic fumes notwithstanding, she could not help responding to the warmth and charm of the sunlit day.
There was a real holiday atmosphere in the park, with live music from the bandstand and people sprawled on the grass, with children playing around them and the air filled with voices and laughter.
And, when Alex held out his hand to her, she obeyed his unspoken imperative, after only a brief hesitation, and yielded her fingers to his light clasp.
He was looking good, she acknowledged reluctantly, in pale chinos and a light blue shirt, open at the throat and its cuffs turned back to show off his tan. She was aware of female glances following him with wistful curiosity as she walked at his side.
They’ll be wondering how I managed it, she thought with an inward sigh. My God, if they only knew…
Alex took her to lunch at a floating restaurant on the Thames, and the novelty of that, with the sun dancing on the water around them, and the sights and sounds of the great river absorbed her attention satisfactorily until the waiter brought his lamb cutlets and her salade niçoise.
They exchanged a few polite comments about the food, then silence descended again as they ate. Louise found, to her disquiet, that she could not help watching Alex covertly across the table as the meal proceeded. He had classic bone structure, she admitted without pleasure, and incredibly long, gold-tipped eyelashes that might have seemed almost effeminate on someone less confidently male.
In addition, she could remember with terrifying exactness how that coolly humorous mouth had felt when it brushed hers, too, and guessed it was a recollection that would haunt her for a long time.
He had no right to be so attractive, she thought sombrely. Why couldn’t he have had an absurd straggly beard, a cast in one eye, or an unsightly mole? Something—anything—that she could have used as a physical focus for her dislike. And which would have made him infinitely easier to resist.
She took a sip of the mineral water she had asked for instead of the wine Alex was drinking, telling herself she needed to keep a clear head.
So far, she thought, her resolve had not been seriously tested. In fact, she found it hard to judge whether or not he’d simply been teasing her with the veiled threats of seduction that she’d found so disturbing.
Which in turn led her to question what might or might not have happened if she’d decided to call his bluff, and spend the day at the flat instead. Recalling, as she did, his comment about seeing her hair spread across his pillow…
And permitting herself to wonder, just for a brief moment, what it would have been like to find herself in his bed, his robe discarded, and Alex intent on his pleasure. And hers.
She thought of his voice, whispering. The late-afternoon sun glinting through drawn curtains onto smooth brown skin. Her own pale by contrast. His weight against her. On her…
‘Is it too warm in here?’
She looked up with a guilty start at the sound of Alex’s voice, to find him observing her, brows raised quizzically.
‘No.’ She took another swift gulp of water. ‘Everything’s—fine. Why do you ask?’
‘Because you look rather flushed.’ He drank some of his wine, the green eyes speculative. ‘What are you thinking about?’
She shrugged, trying to appear insouciant. ‘Just that I’m going to need something to do,’ she improvised hastily. ‘After all, the occasional lunch or party won’t fill the time available. And shopping till I drop has never held any attraction for me.’
His brows drew together. ‘What are you saying? That you plan to get a job?’
‘Would you object?’ The forbidden images were beginning to fade. Her breathing to steady.
His frown deepened. ‘I do not expect my wife to work,’ he said brusquely.
‘Then how am I supposed to spend my day?’ Louise spread her hands, glad to find they weren’t shaking. ‘I have no home to run—even the cooking and laundry is done for you. I have no friends here. I can’t sit staring at four walls from breakfast to bedtime. I’ll get cabin fever.
‘Or go mad,’ she added. ‘They don’t let you out of a padded cell to visit the Taj Mahal.’
He didn’t smile. ‘A lot of people get involved in charity work.’
Louise bit her lip. ‘I don’t think I’m ready for that yet.’ She paused. ‘It occurred to me that there might be an opportunity for me at Trentham Osborne.’
‘There’s certainly a vacancy,’ he agreed sardonically. ‘I’m not sure you’re the right person to fill it.’
‘How difficult can it be?’ She stopped herself just in time from saying ‘Ellie’s not that bright’, realising that it would almost certainly be interpreted as pure spite,
instead of a family truth, always understood but never spoken aloud.
‘I wasn’t referring to your undoubted abilities,’ Alex played with the stem of his glass, ‘but the advisability of stepping into your sister’s shoes.’
‘Why not?’ she said harshly. ‘She did it to me first.’
‘Precisely.’ He reached across the table and took her hand, stroking, she realised with shock, the hollow of her palm with his fingertips. Making her catch her breath. Prompting a corresponding curl of sensation to uncoil slowly in the pit of her stomach.
Oh, no, she thought, appalled. This isn’t fair. I’m still in recovery.
He said softly, ‘Take my advice, darling. Don’t do this. Let it go.’
She said hoarsely, ‘I can’t just—forget…’
‘Can’t you?’ His eyes met hers, smiled into them. ‘Why not—try?’
‘For one thing it’s too soon.’ She bit her lip. ‘May—may I have my hand back, please?’
‘Not yet,’ he said. ‘But don’t worry. I’m not trying to turn you on—even if I believed for one moment that I could. I do have a good reason for this, which I can explain, but not right now.’
‘Let me guess,’ she said. ‘You’ve seen someone you know. And this is your less than subtle way of letting them know we’re an item.’
‘If you like.’
‘I don’t,’ she said shortly. ‘Wouldn’t a simple introduction be better than this—charade?’
‘I said it was someone I knew,’ he told her. ‘I did not mention we were friends.’
He raised her hand to his smiling mouth, his lips tracing the faint blue veins.
His eyes caressed her, openly stripping away the concealing sweater, and the lacy fragment beneath it, making desire an invasion. Sending it running like fire through her blood.
Louise could feel her nipples lift and harden. Instinctively. Involuntarily.
She felt confused suddenly, almost light-headed. Because he was good at this. Oh, God, pretence or not, he was good, and she was no longer in control of her responses.
How—with such little effort—could he make her believe…anything? she asked herself in bewilderment bordering on distress. And, even more dangerously, how could he make her dream?
The arrival of the waiter to remove their empty plates and offer the dessert menu was an intrusion—a shock to her senses.
She felt outraged, as if this polite man, who was only doing his job, had seen her naked. And yet all that had really happened, she thought, was that Alex had released her hand. So really, she ought to be grateful for the interruption.
She heard herself ordering a white peach parfait. Not that she was still hungry, but she needed something to say and do. And asking for food was the simplest option. It restored normality.
‘Have some chocolate mousse.’ Alex was proffering some on his spoon, and she made herself lean forward and smile and accept it, her still raw senses wincing at the implied intimacy.
‘Aren’t you going to give me some of yours?’ he asked.
‘Feeding each other with pudding,’ she muttered as she complied. ‘I can’t believe I’m doing this.’
‘It’s the kind of absurdity lovers indulge in,’ he said quietly. ‘And you do it very well. Thank you.’
They lingered over coffee and brandy, and when Alex suggested taking a cab back to the flat, Louise demurred.
‘I need to walk again,’ she said brightly. ‘Work off some of those calories.’
‘Oh, God,’ he said. ‘Promise me you’re not obsessed with some non-existent weight problem.’
Her smile was unforced. ‘I swear I’m not. It just seems a pity to be indoors on such a lovely day,’ she added quickly.
‘That’s one viewpoint,’ he said, his glance enigmatic. ‘There are others.’
It seemed safer not to pursue that. ‘Has your non-friend gone?’ she asked instead as they went ashore.
He nodded. ‘Some time ago.’
‘So you can tell me who it was.’
His mouth tightened. ‘It was a journalist,’ he said, ‘from a particularly sleazy tabloid newspaper. It’s not the first time I’ve been aware of his presence.’
‘But why should someone like that be interested in you?’ she began, then paused abruptly. ‘Or is it your choice of female companion?’
‘Clever girl,’ he approved sardonically. ‘Go to the top of the class.’
She was astonished at the stab of sheer pain that assailed her. Astonished and ashamed, because she had no right to be feeling like that about anyone when her tears for David were scarcely dry.
And particularly not about Alex.
I despise myself, she thought, wincing.
She braced herself to speak normally as they began to stroll along the Embankment. ‘But how did he know where to find you?’
‘It’s recognised as one of my haunts,’ Alex said, shrugging. ‘I imagine one of the staff tipped him off.’
‘Does it happen often?’
‘I’m hoping it soon won’t happen at all,’ he said drily. ‘Once I’m happily married, the gutter Press will cease to trouble about my activities. Or that’s the plan, anyway.’
Louise gave a small, wintry smile. ‘I didn’t realise how useful I was going to be.’
But, of course, he was using her, she told herself as she walked at his side. That was precisely what she’d agreed to.
But there were limits. And she could not afford to let him amuse himself with her with a casual seduction.
It did not help that Alex Fabian was the most physically desirable man she’d ever encountered in her admittedly limited experience. But that was no excuse for her total overreaction just now.
The greatest risk she faced was not Alex’s attraction, she thought unhappily, but her own weakness, and she would have to find some way of dealing with it.
Because she needed to emerge from this situation with her pride intact, not as just another notch on his already overcrowded bedpost, she reminded herself tautly.
She was recalled from her troubling thoughts to the equally tricky present by Alex, who came to a sudden halt, muttering a soft but pungent curse under his breath.
‘What is it?’ Puzzled, Louise turned to look up at him, and saw his mouth twist ruefully.
‘Just—this,’ he said, and took her by the shoulders, pulling her into his arms, any protest she might have made immediately crushed under the pressure of his lips.
For a moment she was stunned, frozen in disbelief, unable to think—barely able to breathe.
If he’d been brutal she could have fought back, but the searching mouth was gentle as it moved on hers, caressing the soft, trembling contours with slow, enticing patience.
So that, at last, it seemed natural—inevitable—that her lips should part in obedience to his insistence.
The noise of the traffic shrank to a distant murmur. If people turned to look at them, and smile, Louise was oblivious to their stares. The sunlight dazzled her eyes, and permeated her entire body with its golden warmth. Or was it simply the heat of his body, closer to hers than it had ever been?
One hand lifted to stroke her cheek, the line of her jaw, then twined in the soft coils of her hair, making dissent impossible. The other moved down her spine to the small of her back, propelling her forward, their bodies grinding together as if the layers of clothing between them did not exist. His kiss deepened passionately, and she felt the hot, sweet invasion of his tongue exploring the moist inner recesses of her mouth.
She gasped silently, her body arching involuntarily, intimately against his, her hands sliding up to hold his shoulders as the real world began to spin slowly out of control. As she gave way at last to her clamouring instincts and offered her first unguarded response to the demands of his mouth.
And then, as suddenly and shockingly as it had begun, the kiss ended. Not only that, but Alex was also putting her gently but firmly away from him and stepping back, the green eyes narrowed, his expression dispa
ssionate—almost cool. And, she realised with bewilderment and pain, seemingly unmoved by what had just taken place.
When he spoke, there was even faint amusement in his voice. ‘Well, he’s persistent. I’ll give him that.’
Louise found she was taking a pace backwards too, grateful for the support of the stone parapet behind her because her legs were shaking under her.
She said, ‘I don’t understand. What—who are you talking about?’
‘Ed Godwin,’ he said. ‘The journalist I mentioned. He was following us. Clearly our holding hands over the lunch table didn’t convince him that my intentions were serious.’
Hurt twisted like a knife in the pit of her stomach. Dear God, she could still taste him—still bore the imprint of his touch on her body. And it was all pretence. The tenderness she’d sensed—the passion—all a sham. And herself only a fraction away from making an abject fool of herself.
Somehow she snatched at the fragments of her control, her self-respect, and lifted her chin.
She said quietly, ‘Then I’m sure your recent performance will have put all his doubts to rest.’
‘I certainly hope so,’ he said. ‘And, if so, he could be useful, keeping the rest of the vultures at bay.’
‘You think there’ll be more?’ She managed to sound politely interested, no more.
He shrugged. ‘For a while—until they accept the fact that I’m a married man, and of no further interest to them. That I plan to feature on the financial pages from now on, instead of in the gossip columns.’
‘Until our divorce, anyway,’ she pointed out.
‘Perhaps,’ he said. ‘But I’ll deal with that when I have to.’
‘So, what happened to our stalker?’
‘He hailed a black cab, and pushed off.’
And you, she thought, couldn’t wait to push me away…
She said, ‘Then I suggest we do the same. I think I’ve had enough fresh air for one day.’
‘As you wish,’ Alex said equably. He paused. ‘Louise, I’m sorry if I took you by surprise just now, but I could hardly warn you in advance.’