by Miranda Lee
Oh, my God!
‘What time did you say it was?’ she suddenly choked out.
‘It’s just gone six-thirty.’
‘I’d better get going, then,’ she said and, jumping out of bed, Megan bolted for the bathroom. She always took her pill around six o’clock, a time she’d chosen because she’d been sure of being awake—and reasonably alert—at six in the evening. Since her miscarriage the mornings had not been her best time for remembering anything, her depression at its peak in the hours she was first awake.
If she’d been taking a normal pill, it wouldn’t have mattered if she took it an hour or two later. But she was on the mini-pill, the doctor warning her that she should be careful to take it at approximately the same time every day.
After locking the bathroom door, Megan hurried to extract her pills from her toilet bag, washing one quickly down with a glass of water before jamming the packet out of sight in an inside pocket. She shuddered to think what might have happened if James had decided to take all her toiletries out of her bag. He’d have surely seen the packet of pills which she hadn’t thought to hide.
That would have been a disaster!
No way would he have been smiling at her out there if he had. He’d have hit the roof.
‘I’ll be as quick as I can,’ Megan called back through the door.
‘Fine,’ James replied. ‘I’ll go and watch the TV.’
Megan breathed a sigh of relief, glad to have some time alone to gather herself. And to think about what had happened since they’d arrived here today.
Megan had always known James was a good lover. But he was more than good, she realised. He was wicked. A perfectionist in everything he did, he’d obviously learned all the right moves, and all the right positions for giving the maximum amount of physical pleasure.
Clearly, from what he’d said earlier, he didn’t count the missionary position as one of those.
Not that she hadn’t always enjoyed making love with James in the missionary position. She had. She’d especially liked that you could look into each other’s eyes and hold each other close. It was the position of true love and romance.
What James had been doing to her today, and what he promised to do to her in the future, had nothing to do with true love, or romance. It was all about sex. Wildly addictive and ultimately corrupting sex. Already she could think of nothing else.
With another shudder—this one far more erotic—she switched on the nearest shower head, her eyes automatically going to the tiles on the back wall as she stepped under the warm spray of water. She could see herself now, pressed up against them, one leg up and her mouth gaping wide as she came. When she reached for the shower gel, she remembered what James had done with it afterwards, the way he’d rubbed it all over her breasts, and then down between her legs. She found herself doing the same, reliving the experience, feeling her nipples harden as they had back then. Slowly, inexorably, her hands travelled downwards, her breath catching as the tension built up in her body.
Just in time she stopped, knowing instinctively that any climax she gave herself simply would not compare. She would save her excitement for him. Save herself for him.
Megan quickly switched off the water, stepped out of the shower and snatched up a towel. Once dry, she cleaned her teeth, then put her hair up the way James had said he liked. Once her make-up was done she stepped back and stared at her naked self in the mirror, her eyes travelling slowly from top to toe, lingering.
You do look sexy like that, Megan.
Now, what are you going to wear, sexy?
She had, as James had noted, bought several new dresses to wear here. All sexy in their own way, showing off quite a deal of skin and in bright, bold colours. But one stood out from all the rest.
It was red, a deep scarlet red, made in a soft, silky material which didn’t crush. The style was the latest in this year’s summer fashion, with a high waist and a short, swishy skirt. The neckline was very low-cut and the shoulder straps very thin. Megan had bought red high heels to go with it, along with red satin underwear, the strapless bra only half-cups and the panties a provocative thong. Naturally, she wasn’t going to wear stockings.
All in all, it was just the outfit to wear, if you wanted to make sure your man got you home as soon as possible for afters.
So yes, definitely the red!
CHAPTER TEN
‘RED suits you,’ James said.
‘Thank you,’ Megan replied. ‘It’s not a colour I usually wear. I used to think it was too in-your-face. But Nicole talked me into it.’
They were on their way to the restaurant in the beach buggy, night having fallen and the narrow, winding road slightly more hazardous than it had been earlier on, despite lights hanging off the palm trees at intervals. The buggy lurched around the corners, setting Megan’s earrings swinging. They were long drops of crystal, chosen for their match-anything non-colour.
‘We use red a lot in ads,’ James told her. ‘It’s the strongest of the primary colours. A recent survey actually proved that men found women more attractive in red than any other colour. They dressed the same woman in lots of different colours and most men voted her more attractive in red.’
‘Really? Well, that’s good. Because I bought a red bikini as well.’
‘So I noticed. I’m looking forward to seeing you in it as well. And out of it,’ he added with a wicked little smile.
Megan felt its effect right down to her freshly painted red toenails.
‘With or without shoes,’ she countered.
His sexy laugh made her heart zing and her belly tighten at the same time. ‘I’m not sure you’d survive wearing those shoes for too long,’ he said, nodding towards the five-inch-high heels she was wearing.
‘They’re a bit much, aren’t they?’ she agreed.
‘Hell, no. They’re great. Just hard to walk in, I would imagine.’
‘I’ve been practising.’
His sidewards glance carried amusement. ‘Practice does make perfect. I’ll let you practise on me later tonight.’
Megan’s tongue suddenly felt thick in her mouth. ‘Do…doing what?’
How delightful she was, James thought. Trying so hard to be saucy, when underneath she was still basically the same sweet, innocent girl he’d married. He loved it that she was now willing to try new things. But he also loved it that she’d never done any of those things with any other man.
Such thinking evoked a tender possessiveness towards her that he’d never felt before.
‘Whatever you’d like to practise, my darling,’ he replied softly.
When he slanted a quick glance her way, he caught her licking her lips. So that was what she wanted to do. He’d hoped as much.
Just the thought of it, however, was painful. He would really have to get off the subject of sex for a while.
The sight of the security gate ahead heralded the end of the private road, James acknowledging the guard with a nod as he waved them through. The rainforest on either side ended abruptly at that point, replaced by the more ordered gardens which surrounded the resort buildings. There were also a lot more roads, going in all directions. White signposts at each intersection indicated which way to go to find the hotel, the main beach, the pools and yes, there it was, the Hibiscus!
James swung the buggy to the left and followed the road round to the restaurant’s car park, which was surprisingly full. He’d heard that Dream Island was rarely empty, but he hadn’t expected it to be this busy. Just as well he’d booked.
The restaurant had a wonderful ambience, with plate-glass windows on three sides which overlooked a terrace surrounding one of the largest pools James had ever seen. He’d been given a choice over the phone between outside and inside dining and had chosen inside, not sure whether to trust the weather at this time of the year. He’d been warned that the island occasionally suffered from wind gusts. He was now glad that he hadn’t chosen to dine alfresco, the sea breeze stronger here than back at the
ir villa. There was nothing worse in his opinion than food getting cold before you could eat it.
They were shown to a table which still had a splendid view of the pool, their handsome young waiter being very attentive as he took their drinks order, bringing the bottle of wine back to their table with a speed which James had found pleasing, till he noted the direction of the waiter’s eyes.
He watched, highly irritated, when the waiter took his time opening and pouring the wine, his avid blue eyes returning to Megan’s cleavage more times than was either polite or decent. OK, so Megan was a delectable dish tonight, and her full, creamy breasts were one of her best assets. But that didn’t give this guy the right to ogle them.
If he stares at Megan’s cleavage once more, James thought angrily by the time the waiter had finished setting up the wine in a portable ice bucket next to their table, I’ll…I’ll…
You’ll what? the voice of savage reason piped up in his head. Create a scene? Hit the silly fool? Demand another table? Storm out?
James never acted like that. He’d spent his entire adult life exercising an iron control over his temper. Seeing the way his father had used to flare up over nothing, acting out anger with violence and frustration with verbal abuse, had made James determined never to resort to that kind of ugly and ultimately irrational behaviour. He’d gained a reputation over the years for his cool manner under pressure, and in a crisis. He never erupted, even when people did stupid things. He always remained in control.
He had never, ever surrendered to jealousy, not even when he’d been married to one of the most beautiful women in the world.
So it was a shock to find himself being subject to jabs of jealousy which were not only alien to him, but also increasingly difficult to control. The temptation to jump up and drag Megan out of here, away from the waiter’s lecherous eyes, was intense.
She’s for my eyes only, he suddenly wanted to scream.
How he gave him his meal order in a civil voice he had no idea. When Megan dithered over her choice, however, giving the serial ogler another opportunity to stare down her front, James had to do something before he exploded.
Quite deliberately, and with a great effort of will, he looked away from the sight provoking him, pretending to glance around the restaurant, as one did, though not really seeing anything till he became aware that the waiter had left their table with Megan’s meal order.
Only then did his mind clear along with his eyes. So it was with a degree of surprise that his gaze encountered someone he knew sitting at a nearby table.
‘Good lord, it’s Jessie!’ he exclaimed.
Jessie must have heard her name, for she looked up, smiled, then waved. Though she was still a client of the management side of Images, James hadn’t been personally involved with his biggest success story in some years. Once Jackie had come on the scene, he thought it best if he handed his former lover’s management over to another agent, a consideration which had probably been wasted. But he hadn’t known that at the time.
Jessie was still doing reasonably well on the club circuit. Still earning a good living. But she no longer commanded the kind of fees and CD sales which she once had. Of course, she was well over forty now. But she still looked damned good. She hadn’t let herself go, her figure remaining trim and her face relatively unlined. Admittedly, the lighting in the restaurant was not overly bright, so perhaps she would look older up close. On the stage, however, she would still look great.
He waved back to her, than glanced over at Megan, who was sipping her wine and looking a little flushed. That she might have enjoyed being ogled by that waiter annoyed the hell out of him. Suddenly, he wasn’t sure if he liked her new sexy image after all!
‘You’ll have to excuse me for a moment, Megan,’ he said, his voice sounding much calmer than he felt. ‘I must go say hello to a good friend of mine.’
Megan stiffened at this unexpected development. She’d been rather enjoying the waiter’s attention; had even thought she saw a hint of jealousy in James’s eyes. It had excited her to think he might be jealous. Jealousy often meant caring, didn’t it?
Now, suddenly, she was the jealous one. For she knew exactly who James meant. ‘I presume you’re talking about Jessica Mason over there,’ Megan said, somewhat tartly.
James stared over at her. ‘You’re a fan of Jessie’s?’
‘For pity’s sake, James, everyone knows the infamous Jessie. And what you did for her. It was in all the newspapers and glossies for ages.’ Neither of which she’d used to read back then. If she hadn’t looked James up on the internet, she’d never have known a thing about his association with Jessica Mason, or his past life. He never talked about it. Never told her a darned thing.
But why should he? she thought with a sudden burst of bitterness. She wasn’t his soulmate. Just his silly second wife. And now his silly sex slave as well.
Dear God, what a fool she was!
‘But that was years ago,’ he argued.
Megan shrugged. ‘I think I was alive at the time. And able to read. I am almost twenty-five, James, not five.’
‘I see.’
‘Why don’t you invite her to join us?’ Megan heard herself saying. Lord knew why. She had to be a masochist. Or was it curiosity which had evoked the offer, a wanting to see the woman up close, to see if she did really look as fabulous as she did from a distance?
‘You don’t mind?’
‘Should I?’
‘No,’ he said somewhat hesitantly. ‘I guess not.’
Hardly a reassuring reply. But she just smiled and James hurried off to invite his past conquest over to their table.
For no way did he not sleep with her, Megan thought as the woman rose and walked towards the table, her walk as sensual as her face and figure. Dressed as she was in tight black jeans and an extremely low-cut yellow knitted top, everything was on open display.
She’s probably had a boob job, Megan thought bitchily as she was confronted by the woman’s double-D-size cups. And a facelift. For even up close, there weren’t too many lines on her striking-looking face, not even around her eyes. Admittedly, she did have a lot of make-up on. Too much, in Megan’s opinion. Her extra-long, very black curly hair was also much too young for her, and just a little harsh. Though not, perhaps, at night. But Megan could imagine that in the daylight, she would look like mutton dressed up as lamb.
‘No, no, James,’ the woman herself said when he went to pull up an extra chair. ‘I won’t be staying. I’ve finished my meal and I must get going. I’m singing in the main lounge up at the hotel tonight. I just wanted to come over and wish you and your pretty wife all the best of luck. I’d heard you married again last year. You seem to have chosen better the second time round,’ she added, startling Megan with her warm smile. ‘Lovely to meet you, my dear,’ she added, and extended her right hand.
‘Same here,’ Megan said, and shook it.
‘Your husband is a wonderful man, you know,’ Jessie went on. ‘He helped me when I desperately needed help. I will for ever be grateful to him. No, James, do sit down and shut up for once. Men!’ she directed towards Megan with exasperation in her voice. ‘They simply do not know how to take a compliment. Anyway, sweet things, I must away. If you have the time you should come and hear me sing later tonight. I go on at nine, and eleven as well. Have to make it tonight, though, as I’m off back to Melbourne tomorrow. This was just a short gig. Of course, I will understand if you don’t. I do understand that people come here for things other than gadding about.’
‘Megan and I are having a second honeymoon,’ James informed her.
‘How romantic! James must love you a lot, my dear. Because I wouldn’t say romance is his forte.’
‘What happened to the compliments?’ James said drily.
‘James, darling, I would imagine that Megan here already knows what a pragmatist you are. And it’s no crime not to be a romantic. I’ve always found that the most romantic men are usually sleazebags in disguise.
Give me someone brutally honest like you are any day of the week. Now I really must go. It’s been lovely catching up. Ta-ta,’ she said, and with a final wave was off.
Megan just sat there after she left, drinking in everything Jessie had said, and doing her best not to feel both bitter and jealous at the same time. For not only had James slept with that woman, but he was also honest with her.
If only he’d been honest with me, Megan wailed inside. If only he’d told me the truth. That all he wanted from me was a child. I might still have been stupid enough to marry him, but at least I’d have known the truth.
Their meals arrived without her saying a word, not even thank you to the waiter. Once he was gone she stared down at what she’d ordered, surprised to find that it was a risotto. She couldn’t remember what flavour, but it looked like chicken and mushroom, with a bit of spinach thrown in. Or something else that was green.
James’s meal was a huge rump steak and salad.
He didn’t pick up his knife and fork straight away either, instead giving her a thoughtful look.
‘What’s wrong?’ he asked.
‘Nothing,’ she lied, and picked up her wine glass instead of a fork.
‘There’s no need to be jealous of Jessie,’ he said, his intuitive remark sparking anger.
‘Why’s that? Because you haven’t slept with her for a few years?’
James could not help being pleased by the tartness of her remark. More than pleased. He felt soothed.
Strange, his own jealousy had bothered him greatly. Not so Megan’s. He liked hers. A lot.
‘I didn’t love Jessie,’ he said.
Megan almost laughed. What’s new? she wanted to say. You don’t love any woman you sleep with. Or even marry.
‘That’s not the point,’ she said irritably.
‘Then what is the point?’
‘The point is she knows you better than I do,’ Megan snapped. ‘You never talk to me, James. And yes, I know there hasn’t been much talking since I lost the baby. And I suppose that’s my fault. But you didn’t talk to me even before that. Not really. I would know absolutely nothing about your past, or your career, or that bloody woman, if I hadn’t looked you up on the internet.’