The town was on the coast, gulls screaming overhead as they pulled into the car park. Stephanie jumped out as soon as the car slid to a halt, feeling a desperate need for fresh air. Her heart was racing and even deep breathing didn't seem to slow it. She stood staring blindly across the car park towards the main street, her thoughts in chaos, visibly jumping as
Luke's hand gently touched her shoulder. It was a light impersonal touch, but it seemed to reach something deep inside her, and she whirled to look at him, the sunlight blinding her to everything but the cool politeness in his eyes and the shining darkness of his hair.
'My business should keep me tied up for a couple of hours, but will you have lunch with me?' She was silent for a moment, wondering what to do, searching his face for signs of that violent, possessive desire she had sometimes glimpsed. 'It's only lunch,' he said teasingly, looking down into her anxious eyes.
She didn't really have much choice, she told herself, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, unable to resist him. Who could have resisted such charm? When he was in this calm teasing mood, she liked him very much. Too much.
As he said, it was only lunch. She had made enough of a fool of herself already.
'Yes, I'd like that,' she said at last, and smiled, thinking how churlish it would have been to refuse.
'Good.' Luke smiled back at her, and their eyes met and held, until Stephanie broke the contact and looked away.
They agreed to meet three hours later, and Stephanie wandered around the shops and along the crowded sea-front promenade, mingling with the brightly-dressed summer tourists who seemed to cram the town, and she managed to buy everything she needed for her painting of the bay, as well as a pale green velvet skirt, with a wide tight waistband and a full skirt. Green was becoming one of her favourite colours.
Mid-morning, she had coffee in a crowded tea- shop, and as she walked to the clock tower where she had arranged to meet Luke, she caught herself singing, and realised with a faint shock that she was actually happy, happier than she had been for ages, since well before this visit to England. Maybe it was because she was actually doing something today instead of mooning around the house, waiting for Carina to sort out an appointment with her father's solicitors.
She was only a few minutes late, but Luke was already waiting for her. She saw him first as she rounded the corner, watched him, waiting for him to see her, her eyes drawn to the powerful magnificence of his body and that lithe, cat-like grace, so unusual in a man of his physique.
Then she felt his eyes on her, and lowered her head, all at once intensely conscious of herself, conscious of the way she was walking and the swing of her hips and the jeans that she suddenly realised were far too tight. She reached him flushed and breathless and fiercely determined that he shouldn't see the effect he was having on her.
'Hello.' She managed a brilliant smile, looking up into his dark face.
His eyes narrowed on her upturned mouth. 'Did you get everything you wanted?'
Stephanie held up her parcels. 'Yes, everything,' she replied, marvelling at her own outward calm.
Luke took them from her, his cool fingers brushing hers, and she didn't protest, even though she was more than capable of managing them herself.
'Where would you like to eat?' he asked, as they strolled down the narrow, crowded streets.
'Somewhere small, a cafe perhaps,' she replied immediately. She wasn't dressed or sufficiently sure of herself for the intimacy of an expensive restaurant.
'Okay.' Luke seemed happy to leave the choice to her.
But all the cafes and small restaurants they tried were full to bursting with lunchtime trade and tourists; some even had queues for tables.
Finally Luke turned to her. 'I don't think we're going to have much luck—it's the height of the tourist season, so we can either go to a larger restaurant——' he paused, then seeing her dismay,
said, 'or we could buy some food and have a picnic.'
Stephanie smiled delightedly. 'A picnic sounds lovely!'
'A picnic it is, then.' Before she realised it, she had let her hand slide into the hand he held out, and they were walking back into the heart of the town. His fingers were cool around her own, gentle, and yet she could feel their immense strength, and it made her heart lurch violently.
Was a picnic such a good idea? she wondered, glancing covertly at his profile. She remained silent, though, and allowed Luke to buy French bread, cheese and pate, juicy peaches and wine, then allowed her hand to stay within his, as they strolled back to his car, remembering his taunt earlier that morning.
She would be bright and cool and she wouldn't give a thing away, she decided as he held open the passenger door of the car.
'Where are we going?' she asked lightly, as he switched on the engine and the car roared into life.
'I know the perfect spot—wait and see,' he smiled, a brief hard smile that warmed the cool depths of his eyes.
She watched his brown hands on the steering wheel as he deftly manoeuvred the car out of the car park, and lapsed into silence. Somewhere inside her, beneath the vague knot of worry, she still felt happy. The stm was so bright and warm, the road in front of them hazy, buzzing with insects.
Luke too, was silent as he drove, but for once the silence between them wasn't tense, it was almost companionable. Soon they were pulling off the road, down a narrowed dirt track. Stephanie looked around and could see nothing but fields and trees.
Luke glanced at her. 'We'll have to walk from here,' he said expressionlessly, bringing the car to a halt and reaching into the back for the food.
Stephanie slid out, lifting her face to the sun, and allowed him to lead the way through the trees to a small glinting stream almost lost in the long lush grass.
'Oh!' She was dazed by the beauty of the scene before her, so different from her home, so gentle and green. 'It's beautiful!'
'Yes, beautiful.' Luke's eyes were on her, his voice faintly harsh. She did not grasp the significance in what he said, still gazing at the trees full of blossom, at the wild flowers.
Then they sat down in the long soft grass and Luke made her laugh as they ate the food he had bought, deliberately putting her at ease with him. She found herself ravenously hungry, having only nibbled at a piece of toast at breakfast. The bread tasted delicious, the cheese strong and mellow, the peaches very sweet, and she drank the wine he poured for her, licking her lips appreciatively.
'That was lovely,' she said at last with a contented sigh, as she wiped her hands. 'It's true, isn't it, what they say, about food tasting better outdoors?'
Luke smiled, 'The company has a lot to do with it.'
Stephanie looked at him uncertainly. 'I wish you wouldn't.'
'Wouldn't what?' His eyes were amused.
'I wish you wouldn't say things .. . like that.' She felt foolish as she heard her own words. So much for keeping cool and not giving anything away!
'That you're good company?' There was a lazy mockery in his voice.
'You're too direct.' She didn't look at him as she made the complaint.
He shrugged, smiling. 'It's the way I am. Why does it worry you so much?'
'It doesn't. I just think. . . .' She didn't even know herself what she was trying to say.
'Mm?' he smiled, waiting.
Stephanie had the feeling he was laughing at her, and ridiculously that hurt, stinging her into saying, 'I'm engaged to somebody else—you shouldn't say . . . the things you say.'
'Ah,' he laughed, 'I see!'
'I don't think you do,' she said stiffly, wondering why she was spoiling such a lovely afternoon.
'Oh, I do, Stephanie, but if you're honest, you'll admit that you haven't spared Sangster so much as a thought this afternoon.' She saw the sudden hardness in his eyes as he spoke.
'That's not true!' she protested, depressed by the realisation that she was lying to him and to herself, and that he knew it.
'Liar.' Luke spoke so quietly that she couldn't be sur
e whether he actually spoke at all. Perhaps it was her own guilt, perhaps she was reading his thoughts for a change. The hardness in his eyes was gone, replaced by a cool taunting mockery.
'I don't want to talk about Dean. I've told you before, it's none of your business.' Stephanie averted her face, sipping the strong wine as though it was water.
Luke swore softly. 'Dammit, when are you going to open your eyes?' he demanded harshly. 'When are you going to realise that if you marry him, you're going to regret it for the rest of your life?'
'It's nothing to do with you,' she repeated stonily, feeling the tears gathering in her eyes at his harshness, at the easy way he could bring all her doubts clamouring into her mind anew.
'Of course it damn well is!' She listened to the anger in his voice and shivered. It was always between them, Luke's anger that she was engaged to Dean. They would never be friends. She almost laughed out loud, that she had thought such a thing. Friends? She must be going mad! Luke wasn't the sort of man one had as a friend. She had seen the desire in his eyes. He did not want friendship.
'Why is it your business?' she asked stubbornly. 'Why?'
His eyes held hers, effortlessly. 'You know why. What do you want? Do you want to hear me say how I desire you? How I want you?' he queried expression- lessly, all traces of anger gone.
'No!' She felt her stomach turning over, reaction to his words shuddering inside her.
'I could tell you things that would have you running for cover like a frightened rabbit,' Luke continued sardonically, ignoring her panic, the restless movements of her hands.
'Stop it!' she cried, her face running scarlet with colour as she hurriedly got to her feet. She wouldn't listen to him.
Luke eyed her narrowly. 'Scared?' he asked softly.
'Just leave me alone!' Stephanie retorted, and walked down towards the stream, watching the clear fast water running over brown stones. She had provoked him, she supposed, probably because she still couldn't really believe that he wanted her. It was crazy—a man like Luke Baroda, a man with his charisma, his power and wealth. It must be some sort of game to him, she thought, very unsure of herself. Perhaps it gives him some sort of thrill to pursue those things he can't have. No, she was being unfair. She was being nasty.
She glanced quickly over her shoulder. He was still sitting on the grass, his body relaxed, graceful, and he was watching her, she could almost feel the probe of his eyes.
He was so clever, so perceptive. She felt as though she was made of glass. He knew what she thought, what she was about to think—he could read her like a book. If she'd had any sense at all, she would have refused his offer of a lift to town, she would never have allowed herself to sit in the long grass sharing food with him.
She pushed back her hair and folded her arms protectively around her body. She trusted Luke, and that was where the trouble lay. Fool, she chastised herself sternly. Fool! How could she trust him? She hardly knew him, and she had seen for herself that ruthless streak, the hardness that sometimes blanked his eyes.
She kicked off her sandals and sat down on the bank of the stream, allowing her bare feet to trail in the icy cold water. Oh yes, she was a fool. Luke probably thought she knew what she was doing. He probably thought that she was willing to have an affair with him, Dean being out of sight and out of mind. Perhaps her behaviour had even encouraged him, she thought confusedly.
Pretending to look along the bank, she glanced back at him out of the corner of her eye. He hadn't moved. He was leaning back against the trunk of a tree, his hands linked behind his head, drawing her attention to the powerful lines of his chest. He looked as though he was asleep, perfectly still, his body relaxed. But even when he was asleep, he was still dangerous, she thought, and smiled. Her feelings for him were so confused. Already he had great power over her emotions—and that was very worrying.
She lay back, feeling the sharp, dry grass tickling her skin through the thin cotton of her blouse. Why worry about it on such a beautiful day? she thought lazily. The sun burned behind her closed eyelids, an orange glare. She heard the insects and the running stream, felt the stillness of the scented air and felt happily tired. Luke was asleep and she had nothing to worry about. ... I shouldn't have drunk so much wine, she thought drowsily, and drifted off into a light sleep. ...
How much later it was when she woke, she had no idea, but she jumped into wakefulness, her mind still full of the strange, frightening dreams that had haunted her sleep.
'Luke.' She opened her eyes, his name on her lips.
'Yes?' He was beside her, propped up on one elbow, staring down at her. His voice was deep.
She closed her eyes again. 'Nothing. I'm sorry.'
He hadn't been beside her when she'd fallen asleep. She lay perfectly still, feeling embarrassed and rather foolish. Had he been watching her as she slept? She couldn't bear to think that he had.
He was still and silent, yet his presence, so near, was almost tangible, stretching her nerves.
'What time is it?' she asked in a small voice, when the silence became almost too much to bear.
Luke lifted his tanned arm. 'Ten past three.'
Stephanie opened her eyes in surprise. 'Shouldn't we be getting back?' She dared to look up into the dark planes of his face, and her heart began to hammer. Those cool green eyes held hers, shadowed with an emotion she did not recognise, and all the relaxation seemed to drain from her body, leaving her brittle and tense, even her throat aching with a dry tension.
'We can leave whenever you want,' he said softly, still staring at her. Her eyes dropped, resting on his brown throat, where a pulse beat hurriedly. She gazed at it in fascination. It was beating too fast, she thought hazily, and as the realisation sank in her skin seemed to run with fire.
'Luke.. ..' Her voice was a whisper now, she seemed unable to move a muscle, as her eyes gazed blindly into his.
Of their own volition she saw her hands lifting, her fingers tentatively touching his throat. She was hypnotised by the unsmiling darkness of his eyes, the smooth touch of his skin beneath her fingertips. And it was only when he began to lower his black head, and she realised his intentions, what she herself had invited, that she seemed to wake from the trance that held her, sharply turning away her head in panic.
'No !' The protest was torn from her. 'I want to
go back. . ..'
Luke's eyes were intent on her lips. 'You had the chance,' he said harshly, his cool breath fanning her cheek, clean and erotic.
'I want to ring Dean,' she said desperately, hoping that by mentioning him she could drive some sort of a wedge between Luke and herself.
But it only made him angry. His mouth suddenly tightened and a curious blankness shuttered his eyes. His hand moved, tangling roughly in her hair to hold her head still as his mouth touched hers. The kiss was almost brutal, bruising her lips apart with something much deeper than anger. Shock held Stephanie still for a second, then she began to fight him. Instinctively, her hands pushed at the unyielding hardness of his chest, at the powerful muscled shoulders above her. He had moved and she was pinned to the grass by the weight of his thighs and his strength was too much for her. So she lay passive, still shocked, staring up at the cloudless blue sky, as Luke's warm angry mouth trailed its fire across her face, to the softness of her throat.
He lifted his head then, staring down at her with eyes that glittered. 'Damn you, Stephanie,' he muttered harshly, and she was shocked by the raw violence in his voice, not understanding it.
Something was happening to her. She looked into his eyes, her mind not comprehending what she saw there but her body responding to it desperately. Her heart turned over, and it must have shone in her face, because Luke drew a hard uneven breath, his hands framing her face, his mouth finding hers again, this time with no violence or savagery, but with a hunger that he could not disguise.
Stephanie's response was immediate, and so fierce that she was confused and overwhelmed by the sheer force of it.
&n
bsp; She heard him groan as her mouth moved beneath his.
'Put your arms around me,' he murmured against her lips, the words ragged and unsteady, and she lifted her hands to his shoulders, tentatively shaping the heavy muscles beneath the thin shirt, knowing the deep pleasure of touching him, of answering his need. It was there in her stomach, that hot sweet ache of desire, a need that she could not deny or control.
Luke was kissing her throat now, his tongue against the quickening pulse, his fingers deftly unbuttoning her blouse, pushing it from her shoulders, tracing the fragile bones, his mouth following, burning her skin. She moaned softly and her own fingers threaded through the thickness of his dark hair. The clean male scent of his body filled her nostrils, the scent of the grass crushed beneath her, of wild summer flowers.
His hands touched lower, her bra no barrier to his seeking fingers. She gasped as he touched her naked breasts, the nipples stiff and hard beneath his palms. No man had ever touched her so intimately or with such knowledge or passion before in her life. Luke's desire made her tremble. She could feel the aroused heat of his body against hers, urgent, demanding response. She didn't remember opening his shirt, but suddenly it was open wide, revealing the hard lines of his chest, rough with fine dark hair that arrowed down to the flatness of his stomach.
She touched him, almost unaware of what she was doing, drowning in pleasure as his mouth teased her aching breasts, her hands tangling in his hair to hold him closer, arching her body to him in innocent abandon. Her senses were filled with him as he aroused her in a way she had never been aroused before. It was an awakening that reached some deep untouched part of her soul and changed her for ever.
She stared at his smooth tanned skin, at his strong, beautiful hands, at the hair on his body. She felt the heavy pounding of his heart against her breasts. She couldn't stop looking at him. He was holding her now, arching over her, their bodies coming close, touching in the most satisfying way. Stephanie closed her eyes, all thought lost, all sense of time spinning away from her. Her lips parted to whisper his name, and then in confused surprise she felt his body stiffen and he was moving, moving away. She felt the warm summer breeze touching her bare skin as he left her.
Illusion of Love Page 8