Sure, they’d call each other. Email, fax, phone. For a while. Then the contact would dwindle down to practically nothing, and eventually cease.
But it had been great while it lasted. Better than great, she admitted. So much so, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to exist without him.
They lingered, and returned late to her apartment.
The loving was the sweetest, the most sensual experience of her life. He made it so good, it was all she could do not to weep from the joy of it.
They slept for a while, then woke to pleasure each other again before hitting the shower.
‘I’ll make breakfast,’ Rebekah declared, and he pressed a finger to her lips.
‘We’ll do it together.’
Bacon, eggs, hash browns, juice and strong black coffee. Except she could hardly eat a thing as she conducted a mental countdown to the time they’d need to leave for the airport.
They talked, although afterwards she couldn’t recall a word she’d said, and she cleared the table, stacked the dishes, blindly forcing herself to focus on the mundane as he collected his wet-pack from the en suite.
She heard him re-enter the kitchen, followed by the soft sound of his overnight bag hitting the floor, then his hands curved over her shoulders as he turned her round to face him.
His hands slid up to cup her nape, then he covered her mouth with his own in a kiss that seared her soul.
When he lifted his head she could only look at him in silence, too afraid to say the words bubbling up in her throat.
‘Marry me.’
Rebekah’s jaw dropped, and she struggled to find her voice. An impossibility with a host of random thoughts chasing each other inside her head.
‘What did you say?’ she managed at last.
‘Marry me,’ Jace reiterated quietly, and witnessed the gamut of her emotions. Shock, confusion, fear. He could accept the first two, but he wanted to wipe out the third.
‘You can’t be serious.’
‘I am. Very serious.’
She was lost for words. There was one part of her that wanted to shout an unconditional ‘yes’. Except sanity demanded a different answer.
He didn’t give her the chance to utter it. ‘You stole my heart when I partnered you at Luc and Ana’s wedding. If I could have, I’d have swept you off to live with me in New York then. But it wasn’t the right time…for you.’
‘And you imagine it is now?’ she queried sadly.
‘I want to make it the right time. The question is…do you?’
‘Jace—’
‘I love you,’ he vowed gently. ‘The everlasting, “till death do us part” kind.’ He made no attempt to touch her. He could, he knew, use unfair persuasion. But he wanted nothing she’d regret on reflection. ‘I want to be in your life, and have you in mine.’
Was she brave enough to reach out with both hands and accept what he offered? She wanted to, desperately.
The thought of never seeing him again was earth-shattering. Yet…marriage?
Rebekah met and held his gaze, aware of the strength, the perceptive quality apparent and the integrity. This man wasn’t of Brad’s ilk, and never would be.
Dared she take that step forward? She didn’t think she could…at least, not right now. Maybe in a few months’ time, when she’d become used to the idea.
‘No conditions, Rebekah.’
He was adept at reading her mind, and to offer him anything less than total honesty wasn’t an option.
‘I can’t do that.’ She was breaking up inside. ‘I love you.’ She felt her mouth tremble, glimpsed sight of the sudden darkness in his eyes, and recognised the effort it cost him to retain control. ‘The past week with you…’ She faltered, unable to find the words. ‘I couldn’t bear to lose what we share.’ She was dying, slowly, as surely as if the lifeblood was flowing from her body.
‘But?’
Rebekah wasn’t capable of saying a word.
A muscle tightened at the edge of his jaw. ‘You must know I find “no” unacceptable.’
‘Jace…’ His name emerged from her lips as a husky entreaty.
He caught up his bag and slid the strap over one shoulder. ‘I have to collect my stuff from the hotel, check out, then get to the airport.’
‘I’ll take you.’
‘No.’ He leaned forward and kissed her, hard, briefly, then he straightened and walked to the door. He turned and cast her a long, steady look. ‘If you want to make it “yes”…call me.’ He opened the door, and closed it quietly behind him without so much as a backward glance.
Rebekah stood there in stunned silence, battling with herself to go running after him. Except she hesitated too long.
It seemed an age before she gathered sufficient energy to re-enter the lounge, and she curled up in a chair, buried her head in her arms and cried…for everything she’d just lost.
At least half a dozen times during the next hour she picked up the phone to call him, only to cut the connection before she’d keyed in the requisite digits.
Then it was too late, he’d already have boarded, and his cellphone would be switched off.
Millie jumped up into her lap, padded until she found a comfortable position, then settled and began to purr.
Rebekah abstractedly fondled the cat’s ears, and didn’t even try to stem the silent tears.
She had little idea of the passage of time. Eventually she stirred and began taking care of household chores, then, not content, she embarked on a thorough spring-clean of the apartment.
Food was something she couldn’t face, and at seven she curled up in a chair and switched television channels until she found something that held her interest.
She must have slept, for she woke to the distant sound of the alarm ringing in the bedroom and she scrambled to her feet to go switch it off.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
ANOTHER day. Her first without Jace. Where was he now? On a stop-over at Los Angeles?
Oh, dear God, what had she done?
It was a first to display uninterest at the flower markets; at the shop she assembled blooms and bouquets automatically, devoid of her usual enthusiasm. At night she ate little, showered, then climbed into bed in the spare room after lying awake in her own for hours agonising that Jace wasn’t there to share it with her.
Two, three days, four. Each one becoming more unbearable. She couldn’t sleep, she didn’t eat.
On the fifth day Ana took her by the shoulders, shook her a little, then demanded,
‘OK, what gives?’ She took a deep breath. ‘And don’t feed me any garbage about missing Jace. It’s more than that.’
Sisterhood was a wonderful thing. Rebekah didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. She did neither, and went straight to the truth.
‘Jace asked me to marry him, and I said no,’ she said starkly.
‘You what?’ Ana demanded in disbelief.
‘I said no,’ Rebekah reiterated, adding, ‘For now.’
‘Jace asked you to marry him, and you refused? Are you mad?’
‘Wary. Scared,’ she qualified wretchedly.
‘Of loving him, and being loved in return?’
‘All of that.’ And more. ‘His base is New York. It’s a long way from home.’
‘If you love him,’ Ana began, then clicked her tongue in silent remonstrance. ‘You do love him?’
Did she breathe? ‘Yes.’
‘Then what in hell are you doing here? Book the next flight out and go tell him.’
In her mind she was already winging her way there. ‘The shop—’
‘Suzie and I can manage.’
‘Luc—’
‘Leave Luc to me. Maybe we need to consider our options,’ Ana suggested. ‘Whether we want to sell, or have someone manage the place on our behalf.’
‘But Blooms and Bouquets is—’
‘Ours? It can still be ours, if that’s what we both want. Just not run exclusively by us.’
‘We’ve put so much into th
is place.’
‘Maybe it’s time to move on. I have a husband and soon there’ll be a child. Both of whom are my life.’ Ana drew in a deep breath, keyed in a few strokes, and brought up an internet site.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Booking you on a flight to New York.’
‘I can’t—’
‘Yes, you can.’ Her fingers flew over the keyboard, poised, then she added keystrokes, muttered to herself, added a keystroke or two more, then waited for confirmation. ‘Done,’ she said with satisfaction a short while later. ‘You fly out tomorrow morning.’ She named the airline, the flight number and departure time. ‘Your electronic ticket will be despatched by courier within the hour.’
It was all going too fast, and she opened her mouth to say so, except Ana got in first.
‘Don’t,’ she cautioned. ‘For once in your life take hold of the day and go with it. What do you have to lose?’
What, indeed? she queried as she checked her bag, showed her passport, and moved through Customs into the departure lounge early next morning.
Her initial protest that Jace might be in another city…hell, another country, were dispensed with at once by Ana, who’d assured she’d already checked such details with Luc.
‘Surprise him,’ Ana had insisted. ‘You have his office address, and that of his apartment. If by chance he’s not at either place, you have his cellphone number. You can call him.’
So here she was, in a state of high anxiety, about to board a flight to the other side of the world.
Was she doing the right thing? Worse, would he still want her? They were questions she’d asked herself constantly during the past fifteen hours. Twice, she’d almost cancelled out.
The agony and the ecstasy, she accorded wryly as the plane soared into the air. Knowing that it was mostly of her own making didn’t help at all.
If she’d listened to her heart instead of her head, she’d have shouted a joyous yes when Jace asked her to be his wife. Instead, she’d applied numerous reasons why she shouldn’t be with him, rather than all the reasons she should.
Dammit, she was a fool.
Words that sprang to mind repeatedly during the long flight, the disembarkation process, and the cab ride to her hotel.
If you want to make it ‘yes’, call me. Except she hadn’t called, nor had he called her.
What if he’d decided she was too much work, and had taken up with another woman?
If he could do that in so short a time, he wasn’t worth having, she decided as she slid from the cab and followed the concierge’s direction to Reception.
Her suite was on a high floor overlooking Central Park, but she barely glanced at the view before she unpacked a few essentials, then took a shower.
Ring him, a silent voice urged when she emerged dressed and feeling marginally refreshed.
It was crazy to be so nervous, she decided as she checked his cellphone number, then keyed in the digits.
Her hand shook a little as she waited for him to pick up.
‘Dimitriades.’
Hell, he sounded different. Hard, inflexible.
Rebekah swallowed, then found her voice. ‘Jace?’
There was a second’s silence. ‘Where are you?’
Oh lord. ‘In a hotel.’
‘Where, Rebekah?’
For a moment she couldn’t think. ‘It’s opposite Central Park.’ Memory kicked in, and she named it, then added her room number.
‘Don’t move. I’m on my way.’
He ended the call, and she replaced the handset, aware she had no idea where his office was situated in relation to the hotel. Or even if he was in his office.
It could take him up to an hour or longer to get here.
Time she could use to call her father, and catch up. On the other hand she could leave it until tomorrow to ring him. A call to Ana held more importance, and she checked the time difference, calculated it was the middle of the night in Sydney, then opted to send a text message instead.
As the minutes ticked by she was conscious of the onset of nervous tension. Her stomach felt as if it was tying itself in knots, and she couldn’t keep her hands still for longer than a few seconds.
Rebekah examined the contents of the bar-fridge, checked out the cupboards and drawers, leafed through the complimentary magazines, and scanned the hotel directory folder, the breakfast menu.
Perhaps if she made herself a cup of coffee—
The doorbell rang, and she almost dropped the cup.
Then she was at the door, unfastening the lock with fingers that shook a little.
Jace seemed to fill the doorway, and her gaze became trapped in his. Held there by some mesmeric force.
For a moment neither of them moved, and everything faded from her peripheral vision. There was only the man, nothing else.
‘Are you going to ask me in?’
His slightly accented drawl broke the spell, and she stood aside.
‘Of course.’
He closed the door carefully behind him, then turned to face her, seeing her uncertainty, the nervousness, knew he could dispense with it, and would any time soon.
‘Would you like coffee?’ Rebekah asked in a strained voice.
Whisky would be more appropriate. Had she any idea what he’d gone through in the past week? The hour it had taken for him to get here?
‘Coffee isn’t a priority right now.’
Oh, to hell with it. She hadn’t come all this way to play verbal games. If he was waiting for her to make the first move then, dammit, she would!
Without thought she reached out a hand, fisted it in his shirt and pulled him close. Then she drew his head down and sought his mouth. Her heart and soul went into the kiss, slaking a need that had been denied too long.
It took only seconds for his hands to settle over her shoulders, then ease down her back to cup her buttocks as he held her against him, and it was he who took control in a devastating oral supplication that tore the breath from her body.
Her lips were soft and slightly swollen when he lifted his head, and he traced the lower curve with a gentle finger.
‘What took you so long?’
‘Stupidity,’ Rebekah said with innate honesty, and Jace smiled as he pressed a light kiss to the tip of her nose.
She locked her arms around his waist and pressed her hips in against his, felt the power of his arousal, and exulted in his need.
‘Are you going to say the words,’ he drawled gently, ‘or do I have to drag them out of you?’
‘Yes. The answer’s yes.’
His mouth found hers, and this time there was such an element of tendresse, her heart softened and began to melt.
‘Good.’ His hands shaped her body, lingered, then moved up to capture her face. ‘When?’
‘When…what?’ she queried, definitely distracted by the way his lips were caressing her closed eyelids, a temple, before trailing down to the edge of her mouth.
‘Will you make an honest man of me?’
His fingers were toying with the buttons on her blouse in seemingly slow motion. There was all the time in the world, and he was in no hurry.
‘Early next year?’ she posed, not really focusing on planning a wedding date right now.
‘Uh-huh.’ He tugged the blouse free from the waistband of her skirt, then gently pulled it free.
‘The end of the week.’ He began working the zip on her skirt. ‘A traditional ceremony in Sydney.’ The skirt slid down to the carpet. ‘I initiated the requisite paperwork while I was there.’
‘You’re crazy,’ Rebekah said huskily as he undid her bra fastening.
His mouth closed over hers fleetingly. ‘Crazy in love with you.’
She was willing to swear her heart stopped for a few seconds before kicking into a faster beat. ‘Thank you.’
Jace lifted his head. ‘For what?’
‘For having enough faith in what we share to walk away and let me realise for myself that what
I feel for you is love.’
He brushed his lips to her cheek. ‘I don’t think you have any conception just how hard it was for me to do that.’
She thought of the long, lonely nights when she woke and realised he wasn’t there. How she jumped at every ring of the phone. The meals she wasn’t able to eat because of an aching heart. And the knowledge that life without Jace in it would be no life at all.
‘Yes, I do.’ She eased his jacket off, then began unbuttoning his shirt. ‘You’re wearing too many clothes.’
‘Want some help?’ he asked quizzically, and she shook her head.
‘Believe me, the pleasure is all mine.’
And it was. She took it slow, savouring the removal of each item until he stood naked before her. Then she pushed him down onto the bed and straddled him, watching in delight as his eyes dilated and became heavy with passion.
Instinct ruled as she tasted him, and she savoured each moment the breath hissed between his teeth, the faint groan, the slight tremor as she embarked on a sensual feast where boundaries and inhibitions didn’t exist.
Then it was Jace’s turn, and he showed no mercy in his pursuit of gifting her the ultimate in primitive pleasure. It was she who cried out, she who reached for him and begged his possession.
When they came together it was with raw, primeval desire. Brazen, tumultuous. Magic.
The long aftermath held a dreamy quality, a gentle, tactile exploration with drifting finger-pads, soft kisses, and such an acute sensitivity it made her want to cry.
‘Hungry?’ Jace murmured as he nuzzled the soft hollow at the edge of her neck.
‘For you, or food?’
She felt his mouth curve against her throat.
‘When did you last eat, agape mou?
‘On the plane.’ How many hours ago? Eight, ten?
‘I’ll order Room Service.’ He bestowed a brief hard kiss. ‘Then we’ll shower, and you get to grab some sleep.’
He chose a light meal, and he extracted a half-magnum of champagne from the bar-fridge, opened it and poured the contents into two flutes.
‘To us.’
He touched the rim of his flute to hers, and her bones melted at the wealth of passion evident in his dark gaze.
The Helen Bianchin Collection Page 163