Sweet Tempest

by Helen Bianchin

  In the elevator she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirrored panel. Wide luminous eyes gazed back, their expression warm and slumbrous. Her mouth bore the swollen evidence of Jake's possession, but it didn't stop there. Her whole body pulsed with a deep aching awareness, a need so great it was a tangible pain.

  She couldn't look at him—daren't, for fear of what she might read in his expression, and when they reached the uppermost level she preceded him out into the foyer, waiting silently as he slid a key into the lock.

  Rebecca had left a few lights on, but Stephanie didn't falter as she continued through the lounge to their suite. Once there she eased the straps of her heeled sandals and stepped out of them, then moved towards the bed intent on retrieving her pyjamas from beneath the pillow.

  'You're not sleeping anywhere but here,' Jake drawled softly from behind, and she stilled, hardly daring to move as his hands settled on her shoulders, then slid down to her waist.

  The latent sensuality in his voice was a potent persuasion that made her knees weaken and turn to water, and her heart quickened until its beat seemed to fill her ears with its deafening crescendo. As his lips touched her vulnerable nape she seemed to melt, giving herself totally to the multitude of sensations that coursed through her body like molten fire.

  Why not? a tiny voice demanded. At least afterwards she'd have something to remember.

  His hands turned her towards him, bringing her close against his hardening frame, and she exulted in his arousal, letting her body mould into his like the twin halves of a whole.

  The mouth that closed over hers held a fierce passion, its possession hungry and demanding, rendering her almost mindless as he began to divest her of her clothes with practised ease.

  It was only when he had removed most of his own that warning bells began clamouring inside her brain, and when he lifted her into his arms and swung her down on to the large bed she went suddenly still.

  'Stephanie?' His voice was thick with desire, and while part of her triumphed, she was filled with an inescapable fear that at this precise moment any woman would meet his needs.

  'I—can't.' The words came out as a tortured whisper, and her eyes welled, then overflowed. Realisation of how close she had come made her tremble, and her hands shook as she pushed ineffectually against his shoulders. 'Please—let me go.'

  Jake's husky oath was a frightening reminder of the tenuous rein of his control, and she froze, appalled that any movement might precipitate an assault she would be powerless to prevent.

  'I'm supposed to switch off,' Jake muttered roughly. 'Just like that?'

  His body was tense with suppressed violence, and it seemed as if time became a suspended entity as she waited, hardly daring to breathe for fear of unleashing any or all of that pent-up emotion.

  'Do you realise I could take you now?' he demanded savagely, and his hands closed cruelly over her shoulders until she gasped with the pain.

  'Damn you, Stephanie—damn you to hell!' he muttered softly, rolling on to his back to lie beside her, and she began to shake as reaction began to take its effect.

  'I'm sorry,' she whispered hesitantly, endless minutes later.

  'Dear God—at least spare me any platitudes!'

  The seconds ticked slowly by, and she offered achingly, 'I won't be a substitute.'

  'Careful, my sweet,' he drawled silkily. 'This is hardly the appropriate time for sanctimonious revelations. If you've an ounce of sense, you'll lie very still and not utter a further word.'

  He had no need to elaborate, and in the darkness the tears welled and spilled to run slowly down her cheeks, soaking the pillow.

  CHAPTER NINE

  When Stephanie woke next morning there was only an indentation in the pillow next to hers to provide a palpable reminder of their tortuous conflict. Of Jake there was no sign, and she cautiously slid from the bed, catching up her robe to cover her nakedness before crossing to the bathroom.

  A quick shower restored a measure of warmth, and towelled dry, she completed her toilette, pulled on fresh underwear and donned tailored slacks and a patterned knit jumper. Make-up was minimal, just a thin film of moisturiser followed by a touch of colour to her lips, and she brushed her hair with unwarranted vigour until the natural curls sprang back in protest.

  It was after eight, and there seemed no sense in delaying the inevitable confrontation with Jake. At least Rebecca and Bart would provide an essential buffer. The crunch, if any, would come later when they were alone.

  The lounge was deserted, and she crossed to the dining-room, summoning a bright smile the instant before she entered. Bart was seated at the table, newspaper in hand, and there were sounds of occupation accompanied by a tantalising aroma from the direction of the kitchen.

  'Good morning, my dear,' he greeted her warmly, his eyes creasing with kindled affection as she returned his welcome. 'Rebecca is fixing breakfast. I doubt she needs any assistance, but go through anyway.'

  'Hmm,' she responded lightly. 'It makes me feel hungry.' The effort of keeping up a suitable appearance would probably kill her by the end of the day, she perceived mentally.

  'If my wife won't have you in the kitchen, come and join me for coffee.'

  'Shall do,' Stephanie promised.

  Rebecca glanced up from stirring eggs in a frypan, and her smiled echoed her husband's warmth. 'Hi there. Jake should be back soon. He left early for a work-out in the gym.' Glimpsing Stephanie's unbidden surprise, she elaborated, The entire first floor is given over to recreational facilities. Next time you come, you must use them.'

  Except there won't be a next time, Stephanie thought hollowly, and wondered why she felt so bereft. She managed a suitable rejoinder and offered to set the table.

  She had just completed the chore when Jake walked into the room, and there was nothing she could do to prevent her stomach performing a series of somersaults before it tightened into a painful ball. She watched in mesmerised fascination as he crossed to her side, and she was sure he could hear her heart thud as he trailed an idle finger across her lips.

  He didn't say a word, and she proffered a tremulous smile, unsure of what he intended. To an onlooker he bore the appearance of casual ruggedness, the pale grey of his tracksuit accentuating a powerful frame, and only Stephanie glimpsed the faint brooding darkness in his eyes before it was masked.

  Breakfast was a leisurely meal, and afterwards, attired in warm outdoor clothes, they set off for Cowes on the southern peninsula of Phillip Island.

  'We adore getting away from the city at weekends,' Rebecca explained as the Rolls sped smoothly down the highway. 'Bart is an accomplished barbecue chef, and unless the weather is too miserable we usually stop at a picnic ground for lunch. When Melinda and Evan are home, there's the children as well.'

  'Melinda is my dutiful sister,' Jake drawled in explanation, and on glimpsing his mother's surprise he added sardonically, 'Stephanie and I have had other things on our mind.'

  Her faint blush didn't go unnoticed, but its cause wasn't as Rebecca imagined. Nonetheless she was amused by the chiding chastisement heaped on Jake's head, and she appeared suitably grateful to learn more details about the Stanton family.

  The weather provided weak winter sunshine, bracing fresh air, and at a picnic spot close to the ocean there was a tang of salt that did wonders for the appetite. Thanks to Jake's parents' efforts the day was a success, although the strain of continually wearing a smile began to have an effect, and as the hours flew by Stephanie became increasingly aware of their approaching departure.

  'You're looking rather pale,' Rebecca observed anxiously from the front seat. ,'I do hope we haven't let you overdo things.'

  Stephanie demurred at once, and had to contain her surprise as Jake caught hold of her chin and tilted it towards him.

  'Hmm,' he drawled, subjecting her to a raking scrutiny. 'I think we'll head back.' His expression was an inscrutable mask, and she kept her lashes lowered so he couldn't read their depths.

 
'You will stay for dinner?' Rebecca queried, brushing aside his dissent. 'It will be much more sensible to eat with us, then Stephanie is spared having to prepare food when you get home.'

  That seemed to take care of that, Stephanie decided wryly, glad of a slight reprieve as Jake conceded his mother's logic.

  In the Kew penthouse she was careful not to be alone with him, and succeeded until just prior to dinner when it became imperative to pack the few clothes she had brought.

  The chore didn't take long, and she closed the zip fastening and placed the bag on the floor near the door.

  'You resemble a scared little rabbit, poised for imminent flight,' Jake drawled with hateful cynicism. His glance was cool and totally devoid of any emotion. 'You're quite safe here, Stephanie,' he added with soft emphasis. 'And it really won't do for you to scurry away so quickly. After all,' he taunted, 'we're supposed to be wrapped up in each other to the extent we can hardly bear to be apart.' His eyes fell to her mouth, then slid slowly up to spear her gaze. 'Those sweet lips should look kissed, don't you think?'

  Her eyes widened with a mixture of hurt reproach and silent pleading as he moved slowly towards her. Without her being aware of it her hands moved to form a gesture of entreaty. 'Please, don't!'

  He was within touching distance, and she sank back against the wall, flattening herself in an attempt to elude him.

  With seeming effortlessness he reached for her, pulling her close until she was made hauntingly aware of his hard length, then one hand slid to enfold her even closer while the other moved to hold fast her head.

  As his mouth lowered she made one last desperate bid to escape, then her lips were taken, possessed and plundered in a kiss that was punishingly cruel.

  There was no passion evident—certainly no pleasure, and when he finally released her she could only stand swaying, her body numbed into immobility by his deliberate onslaught.

  'Don't look at me like that!' Jake ground out emotively, and she made a gesture of impunity, unable to voice so much as a single word.

  Slowly she turned, intent on getting away from him. In the bathroom she ran water into the basin and sluiced her face, first with hot water, then with cold. She wanted to cry, but such a childish indulgence was a luxury she couldn't afford. Slowly she towelled her face dry, then glanced up to see Jake leaning against the door-jamb watching her.

  She had packed her make-up, and she moved past him to retrieve it from her overnight bag. In a way it would serve him right if she didn't attempt to repair the ravages he'd wrought, and only the thought of upsetting Rebecca ensured that she took great care with her appearance.

  Dinner was one of the most difficult meals she had ever sat through, and as if sensing her distress Jake displayed marked tenderness, explaining that she was suffering a headache—ironic, when he was the direct cause of it, she decided darkly as she tried to field his parents' concern.

  Afterwards it was relatively easy to thank them both for an enjoyable weekend. Their hospitality had been without fault, their genuine efforts to make her welcome held a bittersweet poignancy, and there was real regret as Stephanie bade them goodbye.

  Ensconced in the Lamborghini, she simply leaned back, closed her eyes, and let the classical tape Jake inserted wash over her as he drove swiftly and silently along the Western highway.

  When the car drew to a halt in the wide sweeping driveway she slid out, walked the few steps to the front entrance, inserted her key, then ascended the stairs to her room.

  It was barely nine, but she felt too enervated to do anything but undress and slip wearily into bed.

  On the edge of sleep she heard the soft click of her door being opened, followed by the almost inaudible pad of animal tread accompanied by a slight whimper as Satan sank down on to the floor, then she heard Jake's retreating footfalls as he moved down the hall.

  It was then that the tears fell, and with acute perception the German Shepherd lifted his head and rested it on the edge of her pillow, the only witness to his mistress's desolation.

  News of their engagement had become an established fact, and continuing to field the numerable phone calls from friends, wellwishers and the overtly curious became increasingly difficult.

  Stephanie threw herself boundlessly into a seemingly endless number of chores, ensuring with frenetic energy that she didn't have a minute to spare. Avoiding Jake became an exercise in which she excelled, and by Friday she was counting the hours until her father's return.

  If Jake noticed, he made no comment, although more than once he appeared on the verge of unloosing a pithy diatribe, and Jim Matheson's keen observation of her wan state brought a dark speaking glance that made her glad of her father's presence.

  As to her engagement, her father's delight merely served to compound the mockery, and it seemed unbearably cruel that he should be so deliberately misled.

  Fortunately both men retired to the study immediately after dinner in an effort to catch up on everything that had transpired over the past month, and Stephanie was glad she was spared the effort of having to maintain an affectionate, even loving, facade. At nine she took them coffee, pleaded a headache and retired to bed.

  Sunday dawned with overcast skies and the promise of rain. By midday the house was being lashed with wind-whipped squalls, and Stephanie mused darkly that the weather was an adequate reflection of her mood.

  Jake's departure was loosely timed for late afternoon, and as it drew near she could only regard his impending absence with a sense of relief. The tension between them had built up to a dangerous level, putting her on edge to a degree whereby she felt as if she was walking a proverbial tightrope.

  'I'll let you see Jake to the door,' Jim Matheson smiled, and the corners of his eyes crinkled with gentle humour. 'I'm sure you want a few minutes alone.'

  If only you knew! Stephanie thought wildly, momentarily torn between refusal and compliance. Jake settled it by taking hold of her hand, and loath to create a scene, she had little choice but to follow him from the room.

  'Don't you dare touch me!' she hissed vehemently as they reached the foyer, and she almost cringed from the icy anger evident in his dark eyes.

  'Oh, come, darling,' he drawled, pulling her close. 'A fiancé has a right to a farewell kiss, surely?'

  'Couldn't we dispense with it?' she queried hollowly, silently willing him to relent. 'There's no one around to see.'

  His mouth curved down to form a cynical smile. 'I shan't ravish you, if that's what you're afraid of.'

  Won't you? she queried silently, hating the way her body seemed to be reaching out of its own accord towards him.

  Even as his head descended she steeled herself against an unenviable onslaught, expecting him to wreak revenge. Instead, his mouth closed over hers in an evocative possession, warm and insistently probing as he explored its softness. It held a leashed passion, and something more—regret?

  Even as he drew away she dismissed the feeling as being fanciful. He was probably just as pleased to leave as she was to see him go. Yet an inner voice rose unbidden in silent derision to taunt her, and she stood perfectly still as he trailed an idle finger down the length of her tiptilted nose.

  'I'll phone within a few days, okay?'

  'Sure,' she responded tremulously, and her eyes filled with ignominious tears as he opened the door and moved quickly down to the car.

  He didn't look back, and she was filled with an incredible desolation as she watched the red glow of the Lamborghini's tail-lights disappear down the driveway.

  If her bleakness was noticed it was no doubt construed to be a normal reaction, and although she strove valiantly to present a reasonably bright front, her attempts for the most part were a dismal failure.

  When the phone rang Wednesday evening she lifted the receiver with mounting trepidation, and her heart gave a painful lurch at the sound of Jake's voice.

  'Missing me?'

  His soft taunting cynicism acted like a dash of cold water, and she responded with un
accustomed flippancy. 'Am I meant to?'

  'Obviously you're alone,' he mused sardonically.

  'Obviously.' It was true, for her father had been called to the clinic to conduct emergency surgery on an accident case.

  'I have news,' Jake relayed without preamble. The private detective I employed to report Alana's movements has reported that she flew out of the country this morning.'

  A pain like a fist closing round her heart was so intense she almost cried out with it. 'Then it's all over,' she said quietly.

  'I promised you a holiday. Let me know when you can organise a week off so that I can make suitable arrangements.'

  'No.' The single word emerged from her throat in a strangled whisper.

  'For the love of heaven—'

  'I don't want anything from you, Jake.'

  She could sense his anger, and felt strangely detached.

  'Dammit, Stephanie—'

  'Goodbye,' she managed evenly, then replaced the receiver before she burst into tears.

  CHAPTER TEN

  The days numbered slowly up to form a week— days in which she could neither eat nor sleep, and soon was seen to visibly lose weight, her finely moulded features becoming more sharply etched until both her father and Mrs Anderson took her to task.

  The brilliant diamond she had reluctantly worn only served as a mocking reminder, and with renewed resolve she slid it off, parcelled it up, insured and despatched it to Jake at his parents' address.

  A week went by, followed by another, the pattern of each day a desultory imitation of its predecessor. She persistently refused to lead a social existence, and retired into a protective shell that neither Karen nor even Michael could penetrate.

  The adage about time being a great healer might hold some truth, but after a month Stephanie viewed its logic with some scepticism. Her appetite had improved slightly, but only as an attempt to allay her father's concern. The nights were something else. No matter how she tried she couldn't dismiss Jake's forceful image. It continually rose to taunt her, disturbing her sleep and providing a palpable reminder.