Carole Mortimer - The Flame of Desire

by Carole Mortimer

  She took her time going back to her stepmother's apartment, deciding to walk instead of getting a taxi. When she finally arrived it was well after seven. Her stepmother was obviously ready to go out to dinner.

  "Going anywhere nice?" Sophie hadn't expected Rosemary to be going out this evening, too, although she supposed it was top much to ask to expect her stepmother to change her routine because of her.

  "Dinner and a show," Rosemary said smugly. "The play is sure to be good—Luke has excellent taste."

  Sophie paled. "You're going with Luke Vittorio?"

  Her mother patted her hair into place, blotting her scarlet lipstick. "That's right." She kissed Sophie on the cheek. "Don't wait up for me, I'll probably be very late."

  "Have a nice time," Sophie said dully.

  It wasn't the fact that her stepmother was going out with Luke Vittorio that dazed her, it was the fact that he had been willing to cancel it in order to have dinner with her. She wondered what game he was playing with them.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  SHE WONDERED THE SAME THING the next time she saw him. He was once again mildly flirtatious, and she knew he had 'noted her lack of a bra at a first glance. She felt very self-conscious about it, but he appeared to have no such inhibitions, his eyes deepening appreciatively as they ran over her.

  He was dressed exactly the same, the fitted black trousers and the flamboyant white shirt, and he had kept his word and been dressed when she arrived.

  He was studying her now, his look critical. "You look tired today," he said abruptly.

  Sophie instantly felt the color enter her cheeks. "Thank you!" she snapped. She knew very well what she looked like. She had attended a dinner-dance with Nicholas the previous evening and hadn't got to bed until after three o'clock this morning. The train journey up here had seemed extra long today, too, probably because she was already so tired.

  "Why do you look tired?"

  In the same pose of last week she couldn't look at him, feeling at a disadvantage. "I do have a social life, you know."

  "You were out last night. With Nicholas, I suppose?"

  "Yes," her lips clamped together.

  "You intend marrying him?"

  This time she did look at him. “What does that have to do with you?"

  Luke shrugged. "Nothing, of course. Your stepmother merely mentioned—"

  "Let's leave my stepmother out of this!"

  "If you wish," he nodded. "Are you going to marry him?"

  "He would not be right for you." He put down his brash and came over to stand in front of her, his muscular thighs on a level with her eyes. "You need someone much stronger, so that the man would dominate, not you."

  "I don't dominate," she denied huskily, wrenching her gaze away from his body and up to his face, wishing she hadn't when she saw the intimacy in his eyes.

  He gave a slow smile, sitting down beside her on the sofa. "Not me, perhaps, but you dominate that poor boy."

  "He isn't a boy," she flashed.

  One long slender hand moved to caress her golden hair. "Is he not?" he said thoughtfully. "He is your lover, perhaps?"

  "Certainly not!" she cried indignantly, cursing the way her heart leaped at his touch.

  "He is not?"

  "No!"

  "Why so vehement?" His thumb ran caressingly over her parted lips. "You are nineteen, you mix with people constantly involved in one affair or another, so it is natural to assume you are the same. Also, your body enjoys being touched."

  She could have told him that no other man had ever touched her the way he did, but at the moment something else he had said seemed more important to her. This man was having an affair with her stepmother, made no secret of the fact, and yet he wasn't averse to flirting with her, too. He was despicable!

  She jerked away from his caressing hand. "You think I’m promiscuous?"

  "Not promiscuous, merely aware of physical pleasure."

  "Doesn't that amount to the same thing?" she asked tartly.

  "Not at all. I find you…intriguing, Sophie," he told her slowly, his hands on her forearms now.

  "Please, not again." She squirmed under his touch.

  Luke frowned. "Not again—what?"

  “Please, don't kiss me again to get the effect for your painting. I—I don't want you to kiss me," she lied.

  "But it would not be for the portrait," he told her softly,

  Sophie raised startled eyes, "it… it wouldn't?”

  "No," he groaned, bending his head to caress her throat with firm lips. "This time it would be for myself alone."

  "You—"

  "Do not talk, Sophie," he ordered abruptly. "Not if you are going to object. I want you, desire you, and I believe you want me, too."

  His" mouth on her throat was doing strange things to her resistance. Who was she kidding, she didn't have any resistance to this man. "I—" her voice came out in a squeak. "That isn't true," she said firmly.

  His fingers pressed gently on her lips. "I asked you not to speak if you were going to object," he reminded her throatily.

  "But I—"

  "Not now, Sophie," he said with a groan. "Kiss me."

  "No!"

  "Kiss me!"

  She couldn't do anything other than obey the command in his dark brooding eyes, lifting her mouth for his Mss. But he had no intention of being the one to do the-kissing, leaving the initiative up to her.

  After the first tentative touch she had no hesitation in doing so, her lips being the ones to part and deepen the kiss, her hands on his bare chest beneath his shirt. Luke, the master now, gave a low growl of triumph before lowering her back against the cushions.

  Each kiss was more drugging than the last, each touch intimate., Luke's hands were beneath the thin material of her cotton blouse, dangerously close to her breasts and yet not quite touching them as they strained against the confining material.

  She slipped the shirt from his shoulders, watching the ripple of muscle as he discarded it altogether, his chest and arms deeply brown and covered with a fine mat of hair that she felt sure went way past his navel.

  Luke's fingers moved with experience as he quickly dealt the tiny mother-of-pearl buttons on the front of her blouse, bending his dark head to caress her aroused nipples with sensuous lips.

  Suddenly he stood up to scoop her up into his arms, his mouth taking control of hers as he strode through the apartment. Sophie felt herself lowered gently onto the bed before he joined her, his aroused body half lying over her, seductive than any words. He slipped the blouse her heated body, feasting his eyes on her bare breasts.

  His hand moved to cup and caress one creamy breast, fingertips evoking such pleasure that she gasped. "I knew you would look like this," he moaned, touching her pie. "Made for love," he smoothed the skin. "A body made for love."

  Sophie was lost, lost in the intimacy of the situation, in the sensuousness that was Luke, knowing there could be only one end to this. And she wanted it to happen, wanted it desperately. "Luke—"

  'Quiet!" he ordered, turning toward the open doorway,

  “There is someone in the apartment.'' He stood up in one fluid movement.

  Her eyes were dazed. "Someone—"

  "Yes!" he snapped, pulling on a bathrobe over his naked chest, his shin still in the studio. "Stay here. I will not be long."

  Once he had gone Sophie scrambled to her feet, the mood broken. Who on earth would dare to just walk into his home in this way? Her stepmother would!

  She softly eased the door open and was just in time to see her stepmother walk into the lounge. Luke's composure was perfect as he greeted her. There didn't seem to be anything very intimate about their greeting, although that was probably due to the fact that Luke was conscious of her presence in his bedroom.

  "I came to collect Sophie," Rosemary smiled.

  "Sophie?" Luke echoed sharply, obviously not as-controlled as he looked. "She is not here."

  "Not here? But, well, it's early yet. I thought—�
��

  "She said she had some shopping to do," he cut in grimly.

  "The naughty child," her stepmother chided with a smile. "I hope she isn't being tiresome. She can be so obstinate at times."

  "Sophie's 'behavior has been perfectly…satisfactory."

  Rosemary looked at him sharply. "Are you all right, Luke? You look a little pale."

  "I am fine." He ran a hand through his thick dark hair. "I was just going to take a shower when you arrived."

  "Really?" her stepmother said throatily.

  "Yes," he said sharply. "I, er, I hope you do not mind, Rosemary, but I am feeling a little tired.”

  "You work top hard," she scolded gently. "Why don't you come down to the house next weekend? You could work down there, and it would give you a rest. I'm sure we could convert one of the rooms for you to use."

  "Perhaps." He nodded.

  "Oh, do come," she encouraged. "I'm sure Simon would love to see you again."

  "It is only two weeks since we last met," he reminded her dryly.

  "Yes, but we had a houseful of people then. Come alone this time and we'll have just family."

  "I am hardly a member of your family, Rosemary."

  She gave a husky laugh. “No, that's true."

  "My shower, Rosemary," he reminded curtly.

  "Oh, yes." She moved to the door. "But you will think about next weekend? Let me know tonight, hm?"

  He nodded. "Very well."

  Sophie softly closed the door, leaning back against it, her breathing ragged. So he was seeing her stepmother again this evening. How could he make love to' her this afternoon and then go to Rosemary tonight! She didn't doubt for one moment that they would be together in this bedroom now if it weren't for her own presence here.

  She was buttoning her blouse with shaking fingers when Luke came back into the bedroom. "What are you doing?" he asked throatily, his dark eyes intent on her.

  She didn't bother to look at him. "Leaving," she mumbled.

  "There is no need, we are alone again."

  "There's no need!" She glared at him. "There's every need! That was my stepmother out there."

  "I do not see—"

  "And she walked in here as if she were used to doing so. And we both know why, don't we?" she accused shrilly.

  His eyes narrowed. "Do we?"

  "Oh, yes," she replied scornfully, brushing past him. "Excuseme, I'm leaving now."

  "We have done nothing to the portrait today."

  "Is that my fault?" she demanded. "It will have to wait. I'm certainly not in the mood for that now."

  "Neither, am I," he said meaningfully. "Next weekend I will—"

  "You'll be joining us in the country," she finished for him. "I know."

  "Listening at doors again?" he taunted.

  "I do not listen at doors! Well…only this once," she conceded. "I just hope you remember what I told you about my father. I won't have him hurt." She collected her handbag from the studio, Luke's silk shirt lying on the floor reminding her of the intimacies she had just shared with him.

  He was standing in the lounge when she turned to leave and her cheeks colored anew. His mouth turned back with taunting humor as if he were perfectly well aware of the thoughts going through her mind. Sophie gave him one last furious glare before slamming out of the apartment.

  This couldn't go on, this being made love to by a man she despised. She had heard of the power of physical attraction, but never thought she would become its victim. But she was definitely in Luke Vittorio's clutches, a mere puppet while he pulled the strings. And he knew it; he knew that physically he was capable of brushing aside any objections she might make. Her own acceptance of it left her feeling vulnerable, very vulnerable.

  Her stepmother was in the lounge having tea when she arrived back at the apartment. She wordlessly poured out a cup for Sophie. "You don't appear to have bought anything," she remarked slowly, her blue eyes narrowed.

  Sophie frowned. "Sorry?"

  "Luke said you had gone shopping. You don't seem to have bought anything."

  "Oh, oh, no." Her face was scarlet. She wondered what her stepmother would say if she told her that far from being shopping, only seconds before Rosemary's unannounced appearance in the apartment, she had been in Luke's bedroom being thoroughly kissed. She sipped her tea hurriedly, burning her mouth in the process. "I—I didn't see anything I liked."

  "You don't like Luke, either, do you?"

  Sophie hesitated. She didn't like him, but could she honestly say she disliked someone who could affect her so much physically? "He's too forceful," she said finally.

  Rosemary smiled to herself. "Yes, he is, isn't he? I do like a man to be strong."

  "Daddy's strong," she said resentfully.

  "I know that," her stepmother snapped. "But Luke is, well, he's different."

  "He's a flirt and a womanizer!"

  "They are one and the same thing," Rosemary laughed huskily. "And of course he is, but it doesn't mean anything. I wouldn't be surprised if he's even flirted with you."

  Sophie clamped her lips together. She wouldn't call the intimacies she had shared with Luke Vittorio "flirtation." He had been intent on making love to her, and fool that she was, she had been letting him.

  "Has he? "Rosemary probed.

  "Has he what?" she mumbled into her tea cup.

  Again she gave that husky laugh. "Flirted with you."

  Sophie flung her head back defiantly. "And if he has?" she challenged. "Would you be jealous?"

  Her stepmother's blue eyes narrowed, "What sort of question is that to ask me?"

  "A very pertinent one, I would have thought. Would you be jealous?"

  "As far as Luke is concerned I have nothing -to feel jealous about. Every woman is a challenge to him. Once he's conquered them, he's no longer interested. For example, Eve Jeffers is a thing of the past."

  "So you don't consider any woman a threat?"

  Rosemary smiled coyly. "A threat to what, Sophie?"

  "To the affair you're having with the man!" she said disgustedly.

  Her stepmother patted her perfect hair. "And who says I'm having an affair with him?"

  "It's obvious."

  "Is it? I wasn't aware of it."

  "You don't exactly try to hide it," Sophie said bitterly. "How would you like it if daddy behaved in the same way?"

  Rosemary smiled. "Your father would never do such a thing."

  "No, he wouldn't," she agreed dully. Her father would do, anything for a quiet life—an affair would be a complication he didn't need. And her stepmother knew it, knew just how to manage and manipulate him. As she and Joycy had surmised at the last big display of tears two weeks ago, Rosemary had wheedled a magnificent pair of diamond-drop earrings out of him.

  "You still haven't answered my original question," her stepmother prompted.

  "I've forgotten what it was," Sophie evaded, forgetting nothing at all.

  Her stepmother smiled as if she knew very well she hadn't. "Has Luke been flirting with you?"

  "He may have been. But I can't stand him," she added hurriedly. "And I don't know how you can like him when he can behave like that with your own stepdaughter."

  "Are you jealous, Sophie?"

  "Certainly not! I think the whole thing is disgusting."

  "But you aren't trying too hard to resist him," Rosemary said with a laugh. .

  “I —-“

  "Admit it, Sophie. He's irresistible. At least, I've always found him so."

  "Don't you feel in the least guilty about cheating on daddy?"

  Rosemary stood up. “Don't try to interfere in things you can't possibly understand. And don't read too much into Luke's advances to you—they don't mean a thing."

  Her stepmother sounded very sure about that, and yet they hadn't merely been advances. She might even still be with him now if it hadn't been for Rosemary's interruption.

  "Do SIT DOWN, Sophie," Rosemary snapped. "You've been jumping in and out of th
at chair for the last hour."

  Sophie was well aware of that. All morning the staff had been clearing the room next to Luke's bedroom for his use as a studio, and now they were just waiting for him to arrive.

  She hadn't been at all surprised when Rosemary had arrived the previous evening and informed her father that Luke would be coming down for the weekend. She had expected him to take advantage of the invitation.

  She sprang up out of the chair again. "I think I'll go and see Helen."

  "You most certainly will not," her stepmother said sharply. "Luke's coming here to paint you."

  "Yes, but—well, he isn't my guest."

  "Simon," Rosemary snapped. "Talk some sense into this girl."

  He sighed. "It would look a bit strange if you were out, poppet. You are his reason for being here.''

  Oh, no, she wasn't! She glared her resentment at her stepmother. "But he can't possibly want to start work as soon as he arrives. I'll only be gone an hour or so."

  "She is right, you know', Rosemary. He may not want to start until tomorrow."

  "Oh, very well," Rosemary gave in with ill grace. "But make sure it is only an hour."

  Sophie ran up' to her room to change before any more objections could be forthcoming. She felt more comfortable in her jeans and T-shirt, whistling happily to herself as she went out through the kitchen.

  Joycy turned from her baking. "Well, you sound happier than you did this morning."

  Sophie grinned. "I'm being allowed out."

  Joycy laughed. "You make this sound like a prison."

  "It seems like it today. See you later," she called gaily.

  Her bicycle had been mended by Martin, with much muttering from him that it was ready for the scrap heap.

  She swerved at the end of the driveway as a sleek car turned in. Oh, no, not again!

  Luke pressed the button to wind down the window. "Good afternoon," he greeted huskily, his dark gaze roaming over her appraisingly.

  She couldn't meet that look in his eyes. "Hello."

  "Do you always ride about the countryside on a bicycle?"

  She shrugged. "Why not?"

  He smiled, a mocking smile. "I would have thought that as the only daughter of a rich man you would have been speeding around these narrow roads in a sports car."