Her head was tilted back, her mouth lifted to his and her eyes closed of their own accord. The raising of her chin brought their bodies closer and she could feel the warmth of his radiating against her flesh. She put her hands up to fend off actual contact and found them trapped against his torso. She could feel, under the heat of his skin and the soft cotton of his shirt, the outline of ribs and beneath them, the pulse of his heart, beating out a tattoo.
I will not give in, she told herself but her mental voice was a sigh that rapidly faded under the assault of his mouth. His kiss had grown languorous and warm. He had overcome the barrier of her lips and was now exploring her mouth fully. His hair, like heavy silk fringing on an exotic shawl, brushed across her temple.
She was losing balance, losing all sense of orientation. One last vestigial voice demanded she resist but she ignored it. Why resist something so delightful? So exhilarating?
A hot, weakening wave spread through her body, buckling her knees, making her lean against him but she felt no alarm, for she knew he would hold her and he did. His arm slid around her waist, the strong forearm locked in against the small of her back. The other hand smoothed back riotous curls from around her face, clearing the way for his mouth as he laid a hot trail of kisses to her temples.
Which left her own lips free to explore the smooth skin of his throat and jaw and she licked at the salty taste of the skin there, pausing to kiss the hard pulse throbbing next to the corner of his jaw. Her fingers found more warm smooth skin to explore, while her mouth was captured by his again. She could feel the salt of his skin blend with the intoxicating cordial of his lips. The taste brought forth a sigh, which she breathed into him.
He grew suddenly still and it was then she realized that their bodies had met and she was pressed up against him. It wasn’t simply the pressure of his arm around her that held her there, either.
He lifted his mouth away from her, drawing back his head. His breath was rapid, his pupils widely dilated, the gray almost entirely consumed, darkening his expression.
She blinked, trying to refocus her mind. She grew aware of her hands, submerged beneath his shirt, fingertips spread over the smooth muscled chest to capture as much of the velvety skin as possible. His tie was gone and she thought she must have somehow managed to unbutton his shirt, until she saw the buttons. Loose, tattered threads marked the places where the top three buttons had been. The next two buttons remained but had obviously been strained, for they hung on loosened threads.
A touch-memory of her hands searching out the contours of his skin blazoned itself on her mind.
“Did…did I do that?” she whispered, pulling her hands out from under his shirt. Horror swelled up inside her.
He took a deep breath, recovering. “Yes. You did.”
She swallowed on a suddenly dry throat. She couldn’t remember doing it. She could only recall the craving that had spurred her on, a craving so intense she had completely lost track of external considerations.
She pulled out of his loosened hold on her, whirling away from him, wanting to flee. Her feet crunched over her hair clips and she came up against the back of the sofa. She clung to the steady prop, her heart working with an unhealthy erratic beat.
David’s hands cupped her shoulders and straightened her. “Sit down. Come on.” Gently, he moved her around the sofa and pressed her onto the cushions. She felt him sit beside her, while she concentrated fiercely on following the contours of her palms, lying face up in her lap. She heard him pick up his glass of wine and drink. Then he pressed her glass into her hand.
She sipped and then put the glass back on the table. She didn’t need such artificial means of losing control. It appeared she could manage that feat without help. She looked up at him, waiting for his version of “I told you so”.
He was sitting sideways, one bent knee resting on the cushions and his elbow propped on the back of the seat. The fingers, loosely curled, rested against his jaw, while the strong thumb bracketed the corner of his mouth. “Don’t be too harsh on yourself. Even I didn’t expect…”
“Such an effective demonstration?” she suggested.
“To let it get quite so out of hand. I’m sorry for that. I don’t ever want you to feel unsafe in my arms.”
“Unsafe?”
He took his hand away from his chin and reached over to push a thick tangle of locks back over her shoulder. “I knew your self-control would break. I wanted you to experience it, so you would understand what I was trying to tell you about yourself. But I had no intention of pushing it any further than that.”
We only kissed. The words were there for her to say but she held them back. They may have kissed but there had been much more to it than simply a kiss. As much as she had succumbed, so had he. “I like it that you couldn’t help yourself,” she admitted.
His reaction was complex, comprising of surprise and—yes, lust too. And a warm feeling of mutual…
Anastasia looked away from him, appalled at her lack of discretion.
“Don’t turn away,” he said, his tone reassuring. He picked up her hand. “Look at me.”
Reluctantly, she turned back. His face was neutral, devoid of any feeling now. “One day you will come to me of your own free will. You will acknowledge that I am the only man with whom you can allow your nature free rein. You will know I am the only man who understands and accepts you as you really are. When that happens, I will know you trust me enough that I can relax my control.” The muscles around his jaw flexed and she saw him swallow. His eyes suddenly flared with fiery fervour. “Until then, until you have accepted the truth, every time you are in my arms, you will be lost and I will stand guard.”
Her heart was tossed high and hard. Her breath deserted her and for a long moment she experienced the frightening and sickening weightlessness of a sudden drop, before coming to ground once more with a heavy thud.
She licked her lips. “I love Hugh.” Her voice was hoarse.
“Yes, you do. But there are all kinds of love. And only some will keep a woman like you happy for the rest of your life. Think about that before you toss happiness away.”
She shook her head, denying it. “I came here tonight to tell you to stay out of my life. I can’t believe where we’ve ended up, instead. It has to stop here.”
“Nothing has started. Nothing ever will, by my hand. It will all be up to you.”
“Good. Then stay out of my life.”
“I can’t do that. Hugh would never forgive you for alienating his best friend, or me for letting you do it.”
She bit her lip.
“Don’t you trust yourself, Anna?”
She lifted her chin. “Maybe I don’t trust you.”
His mouth curled up at the corners with wry amusement. “Maybe you are wise, at that.”
“I hope you’re not thinking of waging some sort of sneaky campaign behind Hugh’s back to try to…to—”
“Woo you away from him?” David shook his head. “There is nothing sneaky about what I will do to you.”
She shook her head. There was no reassurance in his answer at all. “I’d like you to take me back to the office now,” she said.
Chapter Six
The drive to back to the office was almost totally silent. It was still raining and on-coming headlights were refracted into iridescent sparkles on the wet edges of the windscreen. Combined with the ghostly green glow cast by the instrument panel, the illumination threw David’s face into sharply contrasting shadows and plains. He was concentrating on driving, the wet roads taking all his attention.
It left Anastasia free to think and to watch him covertly.
He had swapped his suit jacket for the black leather one he had been wearing on the boat but left the ruined shirt on. She could see its open edges lying against the loose folds of the jacket, just beneath the metal teeth of the zipper. His sitting posture made the leather billow out and beneath was the pale tan of his chest.
The combination of reminders of
two occasions where her sensual nature had reigned dominant for a while made her uncomfortable. So much for her promise to apply self-discipline to her life and ward off the threat.
“Do you always wear your hair up and business suits?” David asked suddenly, startling her.
“Nearly always.”
“It doesn’t suit you.”
She felt herself bridling. “It suits my professional image,” she said. “Or have you forgotten that I’m a partner in the business?”
“No. And I’m not disputing that the iron maiden image is sometimes necessary when dealing with men in a business capacity. But if you went with your personality sometimes and dressed accordingly, you might find the reactions around you interesting.”
“And probably unprofitable,” she shot back.
“I don’t know about that…” He fell silent for a moment, while he negotiated an intersection. “I can see you in a soft white silk shirt and a slim black skirt, high black shoes, to show off your legs, your hair loose and with red, red lipstick. That would make them sit up.”
“I’d never be taken seriously.”
“Why not? You don’t have to prove your reputation any more—that’s rock solid.”
“I couldn’t.”
He turned the corner into the driveway that led into the underground car park under her office block and followed her instructions, steering the BMW up alongside her convertible. “Bright red,” he commented, looking the car over. “Appropriate.”
She picked up her handbag from the floor at her feet and grasped the door handle. “Thank you for the ride,” she said.
He turned the engine off and swivelled to face her. The corkscrew motion forced the jacket and shirt to gape wide open and she found her gaze caught by the expanse of skin displayed. The muscles of his chest and shoulders were contoured with the clarity one expected of athletes, showing the anatomy of his tendons and bones. The skin was a smooth tanned coffee cream, lightly covered in fine dark body hair, made darker by the car park lights filtering through the band of darkened glass at the top of the windscreen. His nipples grew tight and hard as she watched and she looked up at his face, knowing her eyes had widened with shock at the power her look had on him.
“The expression in your eyes…” His voice was gravelly, harsh.
She closed them, schooling her face into neutrality.
“That dress you were wearing that night on the river…have you ever worn it for Hugh, Anna?”
She opened her eyes again. “No. Never.” She had left it lying in the corner of the room. The cleaner would have picked it up. She didn’t want to know what had become of it.
He looked out over the hand that rested on the steering wheel for a moment. “No one but me, then,” he murmured.
“I have to go,” she said, opening the door.
He nodded. “Yes, it’s late. And my resistance is low. Go straight to bed when you get home, Anastasia.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because you look like a woman who wants desperately to be kissed and thoroughly at that. And I know that Hugh often stays at Numeralla. So go to bed unless you want to put Hugh through a trial by fire.”
* * * * *
Anastasia paused to study her mother’s portrait on her way down to breakfast the next morning. She noticed the smile and the languid pose that had created a riot when first seen.
Did you really have a torrid affair with the artist, Mother? Have I inherited your passionate nature along with your looks? Is that why I am in the mess I’m in now?
Anastasia tried to read the expression in her mother’s eyes. But she was as inscrutable, as mysterious, as always.
Anastasia smiled at her own foolishness and went in search of coffee.
She was munching on toast and drinking her third cup of coffee when Hugh appeared in the kitchen, followed closely by Aunt Benitta.
Hugh kissed her temple. “Morning, sweetheart.”
“Good morning,” she murmured, straightening up from her slouch at the table. “Morning, Aunt Benitta.”
The tiny, energetic lady waved a hand at them both. “Point me toward the coffee,” she said.
“I’ll get you one, Benitta,” Hugh said. “You sit down.” He moved over to the stove. “Late night, Anna?”
Anastasia nodded. “Around midnight,” she said. “I was at the office late.”
“Yes, so David said.”
She felt her heart give an extra beat and she said cautiously, “David? You’ve spoken to him?”
“This morning. I’ve been up for a couple of hours already. Your father wanted a report on last night’s meeting first thing this morning. You’re the only one in a bathrobe, you know.”
She closed the collar of her peignoir more firmly about her throat, belatedly noticing that Hugh was fully dressed and so was Benitta. She glanced at her aunt. Benitta was watching her curiously.
“David came up to the office last night,” Anastasia said.
“Obviously,” Benitta said, with a smile.
Hugh brought two cups of coffee over to the table and placed one in front of Benitta and sat down on Anastasia’s right. “He said I was working you too hard. He phoned to invite us over to his place for lunch today. I accepted but we can always call back if that’s a problem for you, Anastasia.”
She bit her lip. What could she say? Hugh knew she tended to laze around on Saturdays and if she did have an engagement, he probably would have been invited too. “That sounds nice,” she said at last. “We did say we should all get together. And last night I was too tired to concentrate on chit chat.”
Hugh nodded. “That’s what David said.”
“David is your friend who’s going to be your best man, isn’t he, Hugh?” Benitta asked.
“That’s right.” He sipped his coffee.
Anastasia looked at him. Whatever David had said had obviously registered as completely innocent with Hugh. David appeared to have kept to the truth as much as possible, as she herself had instinctively done. Is that what he had meant by not being underhanded? If so, he was playing a dangerous game. She was not sure she would be willing to play along. It may not be sneaking behind Hugh’s back but it was ethically equivalent to it.
Hugh’s next statement proved her suspicions were way off target. He chuckled softly. “You’ve certainly made an impression on David, Anastasia. He told me he’s going to try to steal you away from me.”
She managed to keep her face under moderate control, while she clawed together her scattered wits. “He said that?” she asked, her tone bewildered. Some of her dismay showed but both Benitta and Hugh appeared to accept it as a perfectly normal reaction.
Hugh’s smile broadened. “Almost word for word.”
“It doesn’t seem to worry you,” she said carefully.
He shook his head. “I’ve known David nearly twenty-five years. He always comes out with melodramatic statements like that. He does it to shock people, to gauge their reactions, which tells him a lot about their character. The statement itself is usually pretty meaningless—or at best a wild exaggeration. So I took it as a compliment to you.”
Aunt Benitta cocked her head on one side. “And what did your reaction tell him, Hugh?”
“I didn’t react. I’m used to it.”
“You didn’t answer at all?” Anastasia asked, knowing that silence as a reply would have told David a great deal more than Hugh suspected.
Hugh shrugged and said with a note of irritation, “I don’t remember. It really wasn’t an issue. I think I laughed.”
She bit her lip. She couldn’t ask Hugh any more questions about it for fear of making him suspicious. She had to drop the subject—although what she really wanted to do was cross-examine him on every nuance and tone David had used when pronouncing such an extraordinary intention. For she knew that on this occasion David had not been exaggerating or bluffing. He had stated the simple truth.
Hugh was far too trusting of her and of his best friend, to se
e it.
She pushed her toast and coffee cup away. The coffee tasted like sludge and the toast had grown cold.
“So lunch is on, then?” Hugh asked.
“I guess so,” she said reluctantly. “Although I was hoping to have a quiet day today. It’s been a long week.”
“I know. What can I say? David won’t be here for much longer. He’s flying back out to China in three weeks.”
She felt a tiny seed of hope. “Three weeks?” If it were true, she only had to hold David at arm’s length for three more weeks and then it would be all over. She would be safe.
“More or less. Although from what David was saying this morning, there’s always the possibility that he may have to drop everything and return at a moment’s notice. The Shanghai branch is at a vulnerable stage just now.”
“I see.” Better and better, she thought. She stood and returned her dishes to the draining board. “What time are we leaving for lunch, then?”
“Will eleven suit you?”
She nodded and turned to face him. “I’ll be ready.”
Hugh smiled. “Thank you, Anastasia. It means a lot to me.”
It would mean more to David. To him it would mean one little victory. She smiled back at Hugh. “I know it’s important to you. He’s your friend. You want us to get to know each other. You would like us to be friends.”
“Very close friends,” Hugh added. “I don’t want you to miss the chance of having one of the finest men I know as a friend and ally.”
She kept her smile firmly fixed in place, while inside her, the acrid tang of guilt curdled her breakfast and cramped her stomach. She fought the feeling off with a reaffirmation of the promise she had made. She was going to marry Hugh. In three weeks or less, David would be gone, out of her life and she wouldn’t have to deal with the treacherous reaction of her body to his presence, or the guilt that erupted every time Hugh extolled his virtues.
Just three more weeks, Anastasia kept repeating to herself, as she dressed for lunch. She could discipline herself for three more weeks. She could withstand anything for three weeks, knowing there was an end in sight.
Inconvenient Lover Page 6