by Penny Jordan
Involuntarily Lucianna’s eyes widened, her gaze focusing helplessly on Jake’s as she recognised that the movement of his mouth against her own felt nothing like John’s and, moreover, that her response to it, to him, was nothing like anything she had ever experienced in her life before.
Why was her pulse hammering, over-revving so much that her heart felt as though it was going to jump into her throat? Why were her own lips trembling so much? Why did she feel this sudden strange, strong need to get even closer to Jake, so much so that she was, she recognised dizzily, actually pressing her body against his?
Why did she have this urge to make those soft keening, whimpering little sounds she could feel bubbling desperately in her throat?
‘Jake…’
To try to protest had been a mistake, she realised seconds later as her lips parted but no sound emerged, for instead of being free to speak, it was Jake who had the freedom to cover her now open mouth with his and to keep it open by pressing his thumb against her chin whilst he slowly stroked the tip of his tongue back and forth against her parted lips.
It must be that the deliberately slow-building rhythm of what he was doing was having some sort of mesmeric effect on her, she decided in shocked bemusement, because instead of trying to stop him she was actually, she was actually…
A vision flashed behind her closed eyelids, a mental image of the couple she had been watching on the television screen and the way they had been kissing.
To her shock, almost as though he had been reading her mind, Jake started to kiss her in the same way—quick, biting kisses interspersed with softer, longer ones that for some reason compelled her mouth to cling helplessly to his.
She felt as though she was lost, adrift, drowning in the unfamiliar torrent of sensation that engulfed her. Beneath her clothes her body was behaving, reacting to Jake in a way it had never reacted to John, nor to anyone else. Jake was caressing the nape of her neck as he kissed her now and his tongue was beginning to make slow, sensual forays into her mouth.
His tongue!
Dizzily Lucianna dug her fingernails into Jake’s arms, somehow managing to find the strength to tear her mouth away from his.
‘You shouldn’t have done that,’ she told him stormily, all too conscious of her heightened colour and ragged breathing.
‘No,’ Jake conceded grimly. ‘I shouldn’t!’
Jake admitting that he was in the wrong? Lucianna could hardly believe it, and neither could she believe the extraordinary way in which she had responded to his kiss. In fact she wasn’t going to believe it, she told herself hastily. She was going to forget that the whole incident had ever happened.
She darted a wary look at Jake who had gone to stand in front of the window. He had his back to her.
‘Tomorrow afternoon we’re going shopping,’ he announced abruptly, startling her. ‘And this time…’ He paused and then told her, ‘If you want to be treated like a woman, Lucianna, then you’re going to have to learn to dress like one.’
Lucianna was far too relieved that he hadn’t made any reference to what had just happened between them to object to his plans for a shopping trip, or to the comment which had accompanied his announcement of them.
And besides, one totally unexpected offshoot from the hours she had stubbornly forced herself to spend people-watching had been a tentative awareness that there were other modes of dress for her sex apart from the two completely opposing sides she had previously believed existed.
There had been that woman she had noticed the other day, for instance, wearing neatly pressed, well-fitting jeans, an immaculate white shirt and a caramelly-coloured blazer which Lucianna had just known would feel wondrously soft to the touch, and to her own astonishment, as she’d studied her, Lucianna had experienced a wistful curiosity to know what it would be like to wear such clothes herself and with such confidence.
She had seen other women, of course, wearing garments she would never wear in a million years—tight, short Lycra skirts and equally tight, close-fitting leggings—but they too had exhibited the same careless confidence, a sort of insouciant ease which Lucianna was becoming increasingly aware that she did not possess.
She wore the clothes she did not just for practicality, as she had always insisted, she had been forced to recognise, but as a means of concealing herself, protecting herself. Almost as though if she was going to be accused of being unfeminine, unwomanly, then she might as well dress as though she wanted to be judged in that way.
She still wasn’t sure where it had come from—this unfamiliar shy yearning for something different, to be someone different—and she was still very nervous and wary of it. But for the first time since she had started to grow up she was aware of a need within her to reach out towards the femininity she had previously fought so hard to deny.
Two hours later, with Jake still questioning her on her reading of the books she had bought, she had all but forgotten the turbulent and passionate moments she had spent in his arms.
Relaying the information she had gathered from the books back to Jake, she’d been surprised to discover just how much she had learnt, but if Jake was equally impressed he was concealing it well, his expression impassive, his profile turned slightly away from her, his whole manner towards her rather remote and withdrawn.
Only when she had impishly given him a demonstration of the ‘mirroring’ technique she had just been reading about did he actually seem to focus on her, but if the brief flash of anger she saw in his eyes was anything to go by he wasn’t as surprised by her progress as she had expected.
‘Jake…’ Instinctively she reached out to touch his arm, unaware herself of just how much her quick mind had picked up from her reading or just how much her new knowledge was already reflected in the way she moved, talked and smiled. Ten days ago she would never have dreamed of touching Jake or any other man—but more especially Jake—to get his attention, and yet now she was doing it as naturally as though it were something she had always done.
She smiled teasingly at him as she said, ‘I think perhaps you ought to read the books as well. You’re supposed to respond to this…’ she touched him lightly again and moved slightly closer to him, giving him another teasing smile ‘…by looking properly at me and moving closer to me.’
‘It’s John you need to practise your flirting techniques on, not me,’ Jake told her harshly, moving away from her. ‘I think we’d better call it a night…’
Half an hour later, as she drove home, Lucianna felt an odd sense of let-down and disappointment. What had she been expecting? she derided herself. Not praise from Jake, surely? She knew him far too well for that. For as long as she could remember and certainly since she had been a teenager, he had done nothing but criticise her.
Once Lucianna had gone, Jake poured himself a large glass of whisky. He wasn’t normally a drinker, but right now…
Just what the hell had he got himself into? And why? He shook his head in self-resignation. He didn’t really need to ask himself that question, did he? But until tonight he had managed to convince himself that his motives were, if not a hundred per cent altruistic, then at least ninety-nine per cent so.
Of course, what had happened tonight had blown that self-delusion totally apart. It had all been very well reminding himself at the start of how, as he had watched Lucianna growing up, he had often had to bite hard on his tongue to stop himself from quarrelling with her brothers, his friends, about the way they were treating their younger sister. Not that any of them had meant to hurt or harm her—it was just that because of their own upbringing they were unaware of how they were inhibiting her development as a woman, confident and happy in her femininity and her sexuality. He had seen…known, but then for him it was different. For a start, he wasn’t Lucianna’s brother.
Swearing under his breath, he poured himself another drink, going to sit down in one of the chairs drawn up close to the fire, resting his head back and closing his eyes.
He could still vivi
dly remember the day, the hour, the moment he had recognised just how he really felt about his friends’ baby sister, just why, when he was out on a date, instead of enjoying his date’s company, he was constantly comparing her with Lucianna, knowing that he would rather be with her, enjoying her wickedly sharp sense of humour and its contrast with her still very naive emotions.
He had gone round to the farm to see David, the kitchen door had been open and he had walked in. The telephone, which was located in the kitchen, had started to ring. Upstairs he had heard a door open and then Lucianna had come running downstairs and into the kitchen, hastily wrapping a thin towelling robe around her wet and totally naked body as she did so.
As soon as she had seen him she had crimsoned with embarrassment, a floodtide of colour which had run up her body, scorching her tender, pale skin, filling her nipples with hot colour which had made them look…
Jake swallowed hard. There were some memories that haunted a man for all his life, some sins. She had been all of sixteen and he…He swallowed again. He doubted he would ever get over the sense of shock and self-disgust he had felt at the urge to take hold of her, to wrap her in his arms and plunder the tight virginity of those thrusting, colour-flushed nipples with the hot suckle of his mouth, until she twisted and arched against him, returning the white heat of passion that was coursing through him, scorching him, torturing him, possessing him with the same overwhelming fury with which he wanted to possess her.
Of course he had done no such thing. Of course he had forced himself to turn away whilst she turned and ran back upstairs, and of course neither of them had ever referred to the incident again. But from then on he had taken good care to distance himself from her both physically and emotionally…especially emotionally.
But, of course, it had been too little and far too late. He had been a man then, more than old enough to recognise what he was experiencing, even if that recognition had been coloured by his own distaste, his disgust with himself for falling in love with someone who was still only a girl…a child.
He had tried to cut himself off from what he was feeling, calling himself a pervert and worse, but none of it had done any good. He had, however, comforted himself that he was at least in control of his feelings, totally and absolutely…Until tonight…
And he still wasn’t sure just what it had been about seeing her this evening that had destroyed the barriers he had painstakingly built to protect her. Certainly he hadn’t enjoyed hearing her talking about John, and certainly the mental image he had had of her kissing him had stretched his self-control to its limits. But it had been more than that, he recognised. There had also been that new air she had about her, that subtle but oh, so alluring sudden awareness of herself as a woman, which he had returned to find her wearing like a little girl pirouetting proudly in her new dress.
How long would it be before she became even more self-aware, before she realised just why he was so determined to hold her at arm’s length? And when she did—what then?
He glanced at the telephone. The temptation to ring the farm and say that their arrangement was off was almost overwhelming. It would be easy enough to invent some business trip that would keep him out of the way for a few weeks, but he already knew that he wouldn’t do it, that he couldn’t do it.
If he loved her as much as he claimed, then surely he loved her enough to help her get what she wanted, the man she wanted. And perhaps once she was safely engaged to him, married to him, he would finally be able to get on with his life.
Lucianna might not be a child any longer, but her feelings for him were still those she had had as a child. She still disliked and distrusted him and there was no way now that he could tell her just why he had had to make her feel like that towards him—no way, no point.
He closed his eyes again. Had she any idea just how close he had come this evening to totally losing control? Just how much he had wanted, ached for her?
‘I thought Jake wasn’t picking you up until two,’ Janey commented with a smile as she caught Lucianna glancing through the kitchen window.
‘He’s not,’ Lucianna agreed, flushing slightly.
‘You know, if I didn’t know better,’ her sister-in-law teased, ‘I’d think you were actually looking forward to this shopping trip.’
‘Which just goes to show the sacrifices a woman is prepared to make to get her man,’ David interjected, saving Lucianna from the need to defend herself and deny Janey’s allegations.
They had told her this morning that, just as she had suspected, Janey was pregnant, and she had felt quite pleased to be able to say truthfully to them that she had half suspected as much.
‘That sounds like Jake now,’ Janey warned her as a car pulled into the yard. ‘Looks like he’s as eager for this shopping expedition as you are…!’
‘Eager to get it over with,’ David muttered. ‘I hate shopping…’
‘If that’s the opening shot in a campaign of getting out of going to choose the nursery equipment, then it’s one you’re not going to win,’ Janey told him cheerfully, laughing at his expression. ‘And, unlike you, Jake enjoys shopping, and he’s got excellent taste, unlike some men I could name.’
To Lucianna’s surprise, once they were in the car Jake announced that he wasn’t taking her into the local town but to a new shopping complex which had recently been opened several miles closer to the city.
Lucianna had heard about the complex via one of her customers, who had visited it to buy her outfit for her daughter’s wedding. And, whereas the old Lucianna would immediately have objected that there was no point in him taking her there, since she had no intention of listening to his dictatorial views on what she should and shouldn’t wear, this new Lucianna found that she was actually having to suppress a small bubble of female excitement as well as the sudden rush of apprehension and familiar dread that the thought of having to go into the—to her—unfamiliar and alien world of clothes normally gave her.
From her books she now understood that how a woman chose to present herself visually carried a very strong non-verbal message, and that the male sex was highly receptive and indeed vulnerable to visual messages.
And as for the impulse which had led her the other day to buy a couple of unbelievably expensive and glossy fashion magazines along with her newspaper and the new car magazine she had originally intended to buy, well, she’d told herself that if she had to endure the self-inflicted torture of having Jake boss her around and tell her what to do she might as well grab what extra help she could to make sure she kept her ordeal as short-lived as possible.
Once she had got over the shock at their cost and past her initial reluctance to turn the first page, she had discovered the cut and line of expensive clothes was, in many ways, as interesting to study as the design of a new car, and she had quickly found that, as with cars, her taste ran to the clean and simple, which would endure, rather than the fussy and over-ornamented—styles which were gimmicky.
And already, although Lucianna herself wasn’t aware of it, what she had seen not just in the magazines but also through her people-watching exercises had begun subtly to exert an influence over her.
Jake, though, had noticed that the jeans she was wearing were a slightly better fit than the oversized ones she normally favoured, and the crisp white shirt, although still a man’s and, he suspected, one she had purloined from her brother’s wardrobe, was much more flattering than the heavy checked work shirts she normally wore.
Lucianna was forced to admit to herself that she was impressed by the shopping complex as she and Jake walked across the thankfully not too busy paved piazza area. Sapling trees, shrubs and attractive planters interspersed with seats, along with a good mixture of restaurants, bars and coffee shops, all of which had pleasant outdoor seating areas, all helped to lend a relaxing and almost continental atmosphere to the place, and Lucianna was also impressed by the absence of litter and general air of cleanliness.
‘Where do you want to start?’ Jake ask
ed her. ‘Or would you prefer to have a cup of coffee first?’
The thought of a cup of coffee was tempting, and not just as a means of a delaying tactic, Lucianna acknowledged, but she still shook her head determinedly.
Now that they were here she wanted to get the whole thing over and done with as quickly as possible.
‘What’s wrong?’ Jake taunted her softly. ‘Afraid you might lose your nerve?’
Lucianna flashed him a disdainful look and tossed her head, denying fiercely, ‘Certainly not.’
Hiding his smile at her predictable reaction, Jake indicated a shop on the other side of the square.
Lucianna started to walk towards it and then stopped, frowning slightly and hesitating.
The understated elegance of the window display seemed to indicate that it would be one of those shops with the kind of assistants who would look down their elegant noses at her and make her wish she were a million miles away, but Jake was walking determinedly towards it and she wasn’t going to have him thinking that she was nervous or, even worse, afraid.
‘This shop is part of a European chain that specialises in providing a specific look which continues from season to season,’ Jake explained.
‘Really? How interesting,’ Lucianna replied, covering her growing feeling of insecurity and panic with the sarcastic retort, adding, ‘Well, that must make things easy for you, I suppose. If you bring all your girlfriends here for their clothes, then at least you won’t miss recognising the latest one in the street.’
‘And just what the hell is that supposed to mean?’
Lucianna was shocked into instant immobility as, instead of treating her comment with the contemptuous amusement she was used to, Jake suddenly wheeled round to confront her, his mouth a dangerously thin line and his eyes cold with anger.
‘It…it wasn’t meant to mean anything,’ Lucianna denied. ‘It…it was just supposed to be a…joke…’