No Need for Love

by Sandra Marton

  She arched to him as he entered her, meeting each deep thrust with joy and with an abandon she had never dreamed she possessed, so that before he called out her name and exploded within her she was already soaring up and up, shattering into thousands of tiny pieces in the blackness of the Mexican night.

  An eternity later, Grant gathered her to him, stroked her hair, kissed her mouth.

  ‘My wife,’ he whispered, and Hannah turned her face into the crook of his shoulder and let her head know what her heart had long ago understood.

  She was in love with Grant. It was why she’d wanted him so desperately yet tried so hard to deny the wanting. She loved him—and there was absolutely no future to it. Their marriage had ended before it began.

  Only the formalities of its legal dissolution lay ahead.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  SUNLIGHT pierced the latticed wood of the bedroom shutters, striping the room in pale gold. Silence lay across the pool and the atrium, broken only by the chatter of the brightly feathered periquitos in the deep pine forest that rose behind the house.

  Hannah lay dreaming in Grant’s arms. In her dream, she wore a long white gown and carried a nosegay of pink tea-roses and baby’s breath. She was walking on a carpet of pale green leaves, moving slowly towards the tall, dark figure of a man. His back was to her, she could not see his face, and yet she knew he was waiting for her. Knowing it sent a shudder of excitement through her.

  Her breathing quickened, and she murmured in her sleep.

  ‘Grant.’ Her voice trembled in the still air.

  The man turned and smiled. ‘My wife,’ he said, and her heart lifted.

  A smile came to her lips, and her lashes fluttered open. She lay very still, struggling to get her bearings in a room that was totally unfamiliar, in a bed that was not her own.

  She was in Grant’s arms.

  And she remembered.

  This was where she had been all through the night, safe and warm in the arms of the man she adored—the man she would never see again, after this day ended.

  She closed her eyes, letting her senses confirm what she already knew. She lay close in the curve of his arm, her head against his shoulder, her hand curled against his chest. Gently, so that she would not wake him and begin these last, tortured hours any sooner than necessary, she shifted her body until her mouth was pressed lightly to his skin, then inhaled his clean, masculine scent. Her hand opened, the fingers splaying into the soft, dark hair that whorled across his chest; the strong beat of his heart travelled through her fingertips and blended with her own.

  Everything about the night had been so new. Her own unexpected passion, the feel of him moving within her, the tastes and textures of his skin—and yet she felt as if she had awakened here, in his arms, every morning of her life.

  A sad little smile twisted across Hannah’s lips.

  ‘Who knows what love is?’ Sally had sighed once.

  ‘Not me,’ Hannah had said with a quick laugh.

  But she knew now. Love was finding the one man in the world who made you feel complete. It was awakening in his embrace for the very first time and realising that you had, at last, come home.

  Hannah lifted her hand to Grant’s face, touched his lips lightly with her fingers. A lump rose in her throat, and she rolled on to her back and laid her arm across her eyes.

  She had been better off before she’d learned that love was real, that it wasn’t just a word invented by poets and starry-eyed romantics. She understood the whole truth now.

  It was possible to love without being loved in return. Grant did not love her and he never would. It was as simple and as painful as that. He was a man for whom love could never be anything but a trap; it had been that shared belief that had brought them together and now, whatever she did, she could not tell him she’d been wrong, they’d been wrong.

  Love wasn’t a trap, it was a key—a key to happiness. Grant would laugh at her naïveté or, even worse, look at her with pity in his eyes and ask her what she was talking about.

  As it was, she’d come close to giving herself away during the night.

  ‘My beautiful, insatiable witch,’ he’d whispered against her mouth once when she’d gone eagerly into his arms and let him take her on that dazzling journey to the stars again.

  She’d ached with the fierce need to clasp his face in her hands, to whisper that she loved him as she’d never loved any man and that it was that, not magic or sex, that made her so hungry for his possession.

  Hannah sighed. But she’d known better than to do that. Experience had honed her sense of self-preservation. As it was, she had left herself far too exposed. For years, she’d thought that the collapse of her first marriage had been the worst pain she’d ever endure, but now she knew that there could be something that would hurt her much, much more, the pain that would come of offering Grant her love and having him reject it.

  And that moment, that truth, would come sooner or later, if she let their affair continue, she was certain of it. It was one thing to spend a night choking back the words she longed to whisper, but to do it night after night, day after day, for as long as Grant wanted her, would be impossible.

  It was just a damned good thing they were no longer bound together by the terms of their damned contract.

  Hannah stared at the play of light dancing on the ceiling. The minute Grant awakened, she would tell him she wanted to go home, make it clear that what had happened last night would never happen again. She was sure the news would not please him. During the night, he had spoken of the days—and the nights—that lay ahead.

  ‘How would you like to drive down to Chichén Itzá and see the Mayan ruins?’ he’d asked softly, while they lay in each other’s arms and watched the moonlight dapple the ceiling. ‘We can climb to the top of the temple of Kukulkán. They say you can see the edge of forever.’

  That was when Hannah had begun the painful return to reality.

  ‘No one can see that far,’ she’d said after a moment.

  Grant had smiled and kissed her forehead. ‘My little pragmatist. How do you know until you try?’

  Because there is no forever, not for us, she’d thought. She hadn’t said it. She couldn’t. It would have been too revealing. Instead, she’d closed her eyes tightly and admitted what her heart already knew, that this one night was all she could have with Grant. She had to give him up now, before loving him became as natural as breathing, before she stumbled and told him she never wanted to leave him, that she wanted to be his wife, his real wife, and never mind the stupid agreement that had once bound them together…

  ‘Good morning, darling.’

  Her eyes flew open. Grant was lying on his side, his head propped on his hand. He was looking down at her, a lazy, sexy smile on his mouth.

  Hannah’s heart turned over.

  Why hadn’t she got out of bed before he woke up?

  ‘I was just having the nicest dream,’ he said softly, ‘about you being in my arms.’ He reached out and traced the outline of her mouth with his fingertip. ‘We were in a room filled with sunlight, and you were lying beneath me, your hair spread like dark silk across the white pillow.’ He bent his head and kissed her mouth gently. ‘You were asleep, and I woke you with a kiss.’ Smiling, he stroked her hair from her face. ‘And when you saw me you put your arms around my neck and said, “Good morning, darling.”’

  Hannah swallowed drily. She knew what was going to happen next; she could see it in the way his eyes were darkening to smoke, she could feel it in the heat spreading through her blood. And it could not happen, not if she was going to have the strength to tell him it was over.

  ‘Say it,’ he whispered.

  She looked at him. ‘Grant——’

  ‘Not my name. Say, “darling”.’ He kissed her again, the tip of his tongue skimming lightly along the seam of her mouth. ‘I want to hear you say it, Hannah.’

  ‘Grant, please. It—it must be late.’

  ‘Late?’ He smile
d and lowered his head to hers, so that his mouth just brushed her throat. ‘Late for what?’

  She closed her eyes as his lips moved against her skin.

  ‘Late for—for breakfast. Estrella must be wondering——’

  He looked up and laughed softly. ‘Estrella’s not wondering anything.’ He took a strand of her hair between his fingers and brought it to his lips. ‘She’s wise enough to know that couples who come here to be alone aren’t the most dependable guests in the world.’

  ‘Really, wouldn’t you like a cup of coffee?’

  ‘Mmm. Coffee would be great.’

  ‘Good. Then let me——’

  ‘Coffee, a dozen eggs, and a pound of bacon. How’s that sound?’

  It was impossible not to smile. ‘Who could eat so much first thing in the morning?’

  ‘Me.’ He chuckled softly. ‘And you. You’re supposed to have a voracious appetite this morning, Hannah.’ He kissed her, and she could feel him smiling against her lips. ‘Well, I guess I’ll just have to make the sacrifice. A little exercise to start the day——’

  She caught her breath as his hand moved on her. ‘Please.’

  ‘Please what?’

  Please what, indeed? He was lying across her now, his mouth inches from hers, his hands in her hair. She could feel his heat, smell his scent, and, despite all her good intentions, her body was stirring, awakening to his.

  He smiled. ‘Say good morning to me properly, darling.’

  ‘Grant, I don’t——’

  ‘Properly,’ he whispered, and he gathered her to him and kissed her lips.

  His mouth moving on hers was like a lick of flame, so hot against her lips, so sweet, urging her to open to him. And she couldn’t. She couldn’t.

  Hannah twisted her face away. ‘Don’t.’

  She felt the shock radiating through his body. He drew back and stared at her, and she felt her mouth begin to tremble.

  ‘Don’t,’ she repeated.

  When she tried to move away again, he let her. She sat up quickly, got to her feet, and threw on her robe. Silence filled the room.

  ‘You can—you can shower first, if you like,’ she said, her back to him.

  ‘Hannah? What’s the matter?’

  ‘Nothing’s the matter. I told you, it’s late, and——’

  He was behind her in an instant, his hands closing on her shoulders as he spun her towards him.

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ he said tightly. ‘Something’s wrong, and I want to know what it is.’

  ‘I—just said——’

  ‘I know what you said. It’s late. Estrella will be wondering why we haven’t shown our faces. You want coffee.’

  ‘That’s right.’

  His eyes searched hers. ‘Now try giving me the real reason.’

  Because I love you, she thought, because if you make love to me again I’ll stay with you until you tire of me, and leaving you then will only break my heart more than it’s breaking now.

  ‘Well?’

  She took a deep breath. ‘I—I have something to tell you, Grant.’

  Some of the tension eased from his face. He smiled a little, clasped her face and lifted it to his.

  ‘Good. Because I have something to tell you, too.’

  ‘Grant, please, you have to listen.’

  ‘Don’t you want to know what I have to say, Hannah?’

  She sighed. ‘All right. What is it?’

  ‘Remember what we talked about last night? About going to Chichén Itzá?’ He pressed a kiss to her temple. ‘Well, I’ve a better idea. Let’s not go there after all. Instead, let’s fly to——’

  ‘I don’t want to go to Chichén Itzá or anywhere else,’ she said sharply. ‘That’s what I’m trying to tell you.’ Hannah drew a breath. ‘I want to go home now. Today.’

  ‘Go home?’ His brows drew together. ‘Back to San Francisco, you mean?’ She nodded. ‘But I thought you liked this house.’

  ‘I do. I mean, the house is——’ She looked into his puzzled face. ‘It has nothing to do with the house, Grant. I just—I want to get back to my life.’

  Uncertainty replaced puzzlement in his eyes. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘It means exactly what I said.’ Hannah flicked the tip of her tongue along her dry lips. ‘This has been—it’s been nice, but——’

  ‘Nice?’

  She could hear the sudden change in his voice, see the uncertainty in his eyes being supplanted by a smouldering anger.

  ‘Nice?’ he said again. His mouth twisted. ‘Is that the best you can say about last night?’

  She thought of what she longed to say—that it had been a night she would never forget—and knowing how close she was to making that impossible admission gave her the strength she needed to see this unhappy scene through to the end.

  ‘Look, I know you probably thought we could—we could go on this way for a while, but——’

  ‘But you’re not interested.’ The words were flat and cold. ‘Come on, come on, spit it out; if that’s what you’re going to say, say it.’

  ‘I’m not interested in having an affair with you, Grant. That’s what I’m trying to say.’

  His eyes locked on hers. ‘I see.’ There was a silence, and then a quick smile flashed across his face. ‘Would you like to tell me why?’

  ‘What do you mean, why? I just don’t want to.’

  Grant nodded. ‘So you said.’ His voice was low, very soft and steady. ‘But I’d like to hear the reasons.’

  Hannah stared at him. ‘I don’t have to explain myself to——’

  ‘Yes.’ She gasped as his hands tightened on her. ‘Yes, you damned well do.’ His mouth narrowed. ‘You were incredible in my arms last night. And if you think I’m going to——’

  Colour flooded her face. ‘If you think I’m going to stand here and—and listen to a graphic description of—of my performance in your bed…’

  She fell silent and stared at him, her face flushed, her breathing swift. He was impossible. Impossible! Here she was, her heart breaking at the thought of leaving him, and he was showing her that under the caring, gentle, passionate man he had been last night lay the heart of an egocentric, arrogant bastard, unwilling to let her out of his life until he was damned good and ready.

  What she had to do was keep calm. Turning this into a confrontation wasn’t going to make it any easier.

  ‘Grant,’ she said carefully, ‘you’re making more of this than it deserves. Just because I don’t want to continue this arrangement——’

  ‘And when did you reach that conclusion?’

  This morning, she thought, as soon as I realised that staying with you even another day would only break my heart.

  ‘I don’t know, exactly.’

  ‘You don’t know, exactly.’ His tone was ominously calm. ‘Come on, Hannah, you can do better than that. Was it last night, when you came into my arms in the garden? Or at dawn, when you woke me by——’

  She spun away from him. ‘Stop it!’

  ‘Why should I?’ Grant grasped hold of her and forced her to face him. ‘You wake up and announce you’ve had enough of this “arrangement” and that’s that? You expect me to salute and say, terrific, Hannah, just let me find out what time the next plane leaves for home and——’

  ‘My God!’ Her flushed face turned up to his. ‘Are you so damned used to getting things your own way that you can’t handle having a woman think for herself?’

  ‘Is that what this is? A blow for female liberation?’

  ‘It’s whatever you want to think it is. I’ve no intention of defending my decision.’

  ‘And I told you, you’d damned well better!’

  Their glared at each other, the only sound in the room the rasp of their breath, and suddenly Hannah felt as if the walls were closing in around her. She had to get out of this place with its faint scent of their lovemaking, had to have somewhere else to look besides Grant’s angry face and the rumpled b
ed behind him.

  Her throat worked as she swallowed. ‘I’d rather continue this discussion over breakfast.’

  His jaw tightened. ‘That’s the first intelligent thing you’ve said this morning.’ He let go of her, turned, and strode into the bathroom door. ‘I’m going to take a shower.’

  The door slammed after him, hard enough to rattle the walls. Hannah threw off her robe as soon as she heard the water running and pulled on jeans and a cotton blouse, her fingers flying over the closures. Damn the man anyway! He was impossible.

  And she was just as bad for still loving him.

  She went still, took a breath, and looked into the mirror above the dresser.

  Actually, he was making it easier for her. As long as he kept saying things to make her angry, she could leave him. But if he took her in his arms, whispered how much he wanted her…

  She shuddered, walked quickly to the door, flung it open, and stepped into the bright morning light of the atrium.

  The housekeeper had set a silver coffee-service on a small poolside table. Hannah poured herself a cup and drained off half of it. The coffee would clear her head. She refilled her cup, then sank into a chair. The thing to do was not let him put her on the defensive.

  She looked up at the sound of his brisk footsteps. He looked at ease in faded denims and a navy shirt, but she knew immediately that his relaxed appearance was covering up a smouldering anger.

  Her heart skipped a beat. She had to be strong.

  ‘Now.’ His words were clipped as he pulled out a chair, turned it around, and straddled it. ‘What the hell is all this crap about not wanting to have an affair with me?’

  She wanted to laugh. So much for worrying that he might try and kiss her into submission. Well, he had always been blunt. It was probably just as well he’d decided to be that way now.

  ‘It’s how I feel,’ she said quietly. ‘I’m sorry If I misled you into thinking anything else.’

  His mouth hardened. ‘Are you.’

  It was not a question, but she accepted it as such.

  ‘Yes. Last night, when you talked about staying on——’

  ‘Did it amuse you? My planning the future, while you were planning your escape?’