by Penny Jordan
It was safer to love a man the way she loved Gray, as a brother, rather than to love one the way she had loved Paul. And yet ... She frowned, and chewed anxiously on her bottom lip. There was something different about Gray. She was aware of a tension within him that she had never noticed before. Gray was always so calm and controlled. She had rarely seen him lose his temper, never heard him raise his voice. He was a man of infinite resource and capability, adept at concealing his thoughts and his feelings, and yet today she had sensed that that control was slipping. Was it just because he was worried about the boat-yard?
She was still puzzling over a change in him when he came back with their coffee. A quick look at his face revealed that he was smiling at her, and Stephanie expelled a faint sigh of relief, without really knowing why she should do so. All she could think was that she didn't want to be at odds with Gray, whatever the reason, and yet in the past they had quarrelled mightily over various issues on which they had taken opposing stances without it damaging their relationship in the slightest. So why was she so afraid now? Was it perhaps because of Carla? Did she fear that she might lose his friendship? That somehow his relationship with Carla threatened his relationship with her? But surely that was silly; she and Gray were friends, Carla and Gray were lovers.
'Penny for them?'
Instinctively she bent her head so that a silky swathe of hair hid her expression from him. It was the first time she had ever felt the need to be defensive with Gray, and part of her mourned the fact that this should be so.
'They aren't worth it.' She smiled up at him and wondered if her smile looked as forced as it felt. 'I think I'll go up to bed, if you don't mind, Gray: I'm tired—it must be the hot weather.'
She had to avoid looking at him as she gave voice to the small lie. She never went to bed early on the first night of her visits. She and Gray normally stayed up until the early hours of the morning, catching up on one another's news, teasing each other, talking . . . But tonight, for some reason, she was conscious of an air of constraint between them, and almost every time she looked at Gray, she couldn't help mentally picturing him with Carla, his body as magnificently nude as it had been earlier, its muscled hardness covering the blonde's more delicately female shape.
Gray didn't say a word about her unusual decision to go to bed early, but as he walked her to the door and opened it for her, Stephanie glanced up at him and saw that his dark eyebrows were drawn together in a heavy frown.
Instinctively, without thinking what she was doing, she raised herself up on tiptoe, and pressed her fingertips to the frown lines, tenderly smoothing them away. Her gesture was completely unselfconscious, born of her desire to restore their relationship to its normal footing, but from the way Gray reacted her touch might have burned his skin like acid.
Lean fingers clamped round her wrist, his head jerking back as though he loathed the physical contact between their skins.
The pain of his bone-crunching grip was nothing to compare with the anguish of rejection which Stephanie suffered, when she saw the look of revulsion in his eyes.
'Gray!' Shock rounded her eyes to deep violet pools of pain, humiliation sending a burning wave of scarlet across her skin. Her arm throbbed from the tightness of his grip, and a terrible feeling of nausea churned in her stomach. What was it she had done?
Blue eyes narrowed sharply on her face, a hard burn of colour darkening the taut thrust of Gray's cheekbones. More than ever he reminded her of a beast of prey, a dangerous jungle cat, waiting to pounce on its victim.
'What did I do wrong?'
The words whispered past lips trembling slightly with the aftermath of shock.
Stephanie saw Gray's lips twist. 'Twenty-eight years old and you have to ask me that? You haven't done the male sex any favours by living like a nun since Paul's death, Steph.'
The violet eyes betrayed bewilderment and he made a sound of self-derision deep in his throat, caught midway between anger and amusement.
'For God's sake, do you want me to spell it out for you?'
Something dangerous had been let loose in the room: Stephanie could sense it and yet she didn't know where the danger came from. She touched the tip of her tongue to her trembling lips, moistening them, in an acutely nervous gesture, blinking a little as she saw the flat hardness compressing Gray's mouth as he watched her movements like a hawk.
Her voice in a husky whisper she protested, 'Gray, I only touched you. I've touched you before.'
'Now it's different.' His voice was flat, metallic almost, as though he'd deliberately forced every iota of emotion out of it. 'Then I wasn't suffering from the frustration that's eating into me now.'
The shock of it tensed her muscles. Gray had never spoken to her like this before, never mentioned his
physical desires, or the women he shared them with.
She wet her lips again, conscious of a strange heat burning through her veins. She didn't want to hear about Gray's sex life, but for some reason she heard herself saying slowly, 'Carla ...?'
'Carla's married, Steph.'
Numb with shock, Stephanie heard him swear. For some reason her heart was racing, her nerve-endings pulsingly conscious of Gray's tension. She saw him move and stiffened with shock as his fingers bit into the tender flesh of her upper arms.
'You don't even know what I'm talking about, do you?' His voice was thick and unfamiliar, and for the first time since she had known him, his movements were less than perfectly controlled. She could actually hear the fierce thud of his heart as he closed the distance between them, so loud that it drowned her instinctive gasp of shock.
'This is what it's all about, Stephanie. This, and this.' He pulled her so close to his body that she could feel its heat ; so close that, shockingly, she was aware of his physical arousal. If just the thought of Carla could affect him like this ... Icy cold with shock, she shuddered. Instantly Gray released her, an expression of cold withdrawal icing over his eyes.
'I'm sorry.' His voice was curt. 'I shouldn't have done that.'
He turned his back to her, and part of her ached to reach out and comfort him. Instead she said shakily. 'It's all right, Gray. I.. .I.. .understand. At least, I think I do.'
'Do you?' He turned to look at her, searching her face with hard eyes. Stephanie made herself hold that searching gaze.
'I think so. You love Carla, but she's married to someone else. You love someone who's out of reach.'
'I certainly do.' The look he gave her was wryly sardonic. 'Go to bed, Stephanie,' he told her tiredly. 'I don't think there's any point in discussing things any further.'
Despite her original claim that she was tired, Stephanie couldn't sleep. It had come as a shock to learn that Gray was in love with Carla, and it hadn't been a pleasant shock. In fact, she was stunned to discover just how resentful and unhappy she felt. She loved him as a friend, as a brother—so why did she feel like this?
Of course, it was because Carla was married. That was the explanation! Poor Gray, what a terrible situation for him. She knew how devastating jealousy could be, and he must be jealous of Carla's husband— jealous and frustrated. Her face burned as she remembered the way he had demonstrated that frustration to her. She had never known Gray behave with anything other than calm, brotherly affection ; had never before seen him like this, driven, and almost aggressive towards her. She hated the thought of their relationship changing; of another woman coming between them.
She told herself she was being unrealistic, selfish even, but it didn't help.
'I'm sorry about last night—things got a little out of control.' Gray grimaced faintly as he handed Stephanie her breakfast. 'I don't normally let go like that.'
He was watching her covertly, as though expecting ... expecting what? Despite her own complicated feelings last night, Stephanie had made a vow that she would give Gray all the emotional support she could to sustain him during what she knew from her own experience would be a very traumatic time.
'Carla's husband
and I are financial partners in the boat I'm sailing for the Fastnet—that's how I met her.'
Stephanie knew that her disquiet must have shown in her eyes, because Gray's mouth twisted. 'We can't all love to order,' he told her, curtly turning away from her. 'We'll leave for London this afternoon to collect your stuff. We'll stay at your place overnight.'
'You'll have to sleep on the settee,' she warned him.
'It won't matter for one night, and besides, I'd never get an hotel room at this time of year.'
'No. London is packed with tourists. Have you much business to do?'
Gray shook his head, pouring them both a second cup of coffee. 'No, I should be through it by lunchtime, and then we can head back here in the afternoon. By the way, you'll need a room to work in while you're here. There's an empty office down at the yard, will that do? I could show you it later.'
This was more like the Gray she knew, and although it hurt her that he didn't want to discuss Carla with her, part of her was glad. She was growing to hate the sound of the other woman's name.
She thought she'd been successful in keeping her thoughts hidden from him until he said softly, 'What is it, Steph?'
'I'm worried about you—about your involvement with Carla.'
For some reason her admission alarmed her, and she looked down at her plate, missing the look of brooding pain he gave her.
'Why?'
'I don't know. Perhaps it's because I know you're not the sort of man who'd really want to be involved with a woman who's married to someone else,' she offered lamely. 'You're always so honest in everything you do, Gray.'
'Think you know me well, don't you? Well, don't be too sure, love. The pain of an almost unendurable physical desire that you know can never really be satisfied makes a man do irrational things. Remember that, Steph.'
What was he trying to tell her? A faint shiver of apprehension held her in a cold grip. Instinctively she reached out to cover his hand with her own. His hands were large and well shaped with long fingers, clever hands ... caring hands.
'Does she feel the same way about you, Gray? Will she. . .?' She swallowed, knowing it hurt to say what she had to say. 'Will she leave her husband for you?'
'No to both questions. Alex is a very wealthy man. Carla would never leave him.'
Her hea rt ached with pain for him, her huge eyes violet-shadowed with the intensity of her emotions. Wanting to offer him comfort, she moved closer to him, leaning her head against his shoulder and placing her hand against his chest. The neck-of his shirt was open and her fingertips accidentally grazed against his warm skin. Instantly, hot colour flooded her face as she remembered how she had seen him yesterday. Shocked by her mental picture of his nude body she started to move away, but Gray's hand clamped down over hers, imprisoning it against his chest. The sensation of bone and muscle moving beneath her palm was faintly unnerving.
She hadn't touched a man voluntarily since Paul's death. 'Give her up, Gray,' she pleaded softly, trying to drag her thoughts away from the strange tension that seemed to have sprung up between them. 'Stop seeing her.'
'I can't.' His voice was harsh, his chest rising sharply as though he was finding it hard to breathe. When she looked up into his face it was closed and set, his nostrils slightly flared. He looked like a man in the grip of a fierce and unwanted emotion. 'Alex is financing me in the Fastnet,' he told her starkly. 'Without him I couldn't even contemplate entering it. He's provided the money for the new ketch we'll be using. I've built her, and we've got a first-rate crew of local volunteers. I can't stop seeing her, Steph, not without making Alex suspicious.'
Stephanie shivered. 'It must be awful to love someone so much and know that you'll always be apart.'
'Awful?' Derision grated through the word. 'It's hell on earth!'
Stephanie looked up at him, shocked by the bitter intensity in his voice. His mouth curved in an unfamiliarly hard line. He had a very nice mouth, she thought absently, the top lip firmly drawn, the bottom one fuller.
As though it possessed a will beyond her control, her hand lifted, her fingertip gently touching that full bottom lip. She felt Gray tense, his fingers fastening round her wrist, his eyes furiously dark, as he looked down into the surprised violet innocence of her own.
'What the ...?'
'I'm sorry, Gray.' Her eyes clouded, confusion spreading through her, almost as though she spoke the words for herself rather than him. She said huskily, 'I don't know why I did that ... I just thought how nice your mouth was.' She frowned, breaking off incoherently. 'I. . .'
'It's OK.'
The anger was gone from his voice and she looked at him in relief. The expression in his eyes was shielded from her by twin fans of thick, dark lashes. She had always known that Gray was an attractive man, but until now she hadn't realised how attractive. The temptation to reach out and touch his lashes in the same way she had touched his mouth was almost too much for her. While she was still grappling with the strangeness of it, the dark lashes lifted and for a moment dark blue eyes looked relentlessly into vulnerable violet.
'It's all right if you want to touch me, Steph. I'm just not used to it, that's all. You're not a very touching person, are you?'
Wasn't she? Gravely she considered it.
She looked back at Gray, trying to interpret the expression in his eyes, but he veiled them from her, turning his head.
The sudden brief contact of his lips against the soft tips of her fingers in a butterfly kiss sent quivers of sensation racing from her nerve-endings, but before she could analyse why she should be so shocked, he was releasing her, and standing up.
'Come on. It's time we set off for the yard.'
As she moved past him towards the open door he watched her with an expression in his eyes that would have shocked her to the depths of her soul had she seen it. It was the look of a hungry, aching man fighting to hold on to his self-control.
Eleven years he had wanted her, from the day she had turned seventeen. She only had to touch him for him to go up in flames. When he had looked down at her and seen her looking at his mouth .. .God, but he had come close to betraying himself. She didn't have the slightest idea how he felt about her, and she never would, but sometimes the strain of maintaining their sexless friendship when he wanted ... He swallowed hard, trying not to let himself imagine what it would be like to have her softness in his arms, to bury himself in her and love her in all the ways he ached to do. It was utterly pointless yearning for her; she loved Paul and she always would, he knew that. He had tried every way he knew how to stop loving her, to stop aching for her and wanting her, but none of them worked. It didn't matter how many other women he took to bed, in the end there was only her.
There were times when he almost wanted to take hold of her and make her respond to him; when he was almost driven mad by the torment of having her so close to him and yet so unattainable.
The day he knew he loved her, he had planned to wait until she had grown a little, until she knew enough about life to make her own decisions; but Paul had beaten him to it, Paul who had never waited for anything in his life, Paul who had seen the way his older cousin watched Stephanie's slender, copper-haired figure; Paul who had deliberately and knowingly taken her from him.
Grimacing faintly as he fell in step behind her, Gray reflected that it was just as well that she believed he loved Carla. He would have to have a word with Carla. She and Alex adored one another ... she had also guessed, in that infuriatingly intuitive way that women have, how he felt about Stephanie. In fact, the only person who didn't seem to know was Stephanie herself.
He shouldn't have given in to his own weakness and asked her to come down here. How on earth was he supposed to concentrate on working for the Fastnet, with Stephanie providing a constant distraction, a constan t torment? A muscle beat betray ingly in his jaw as his body tensed. God, when she walked into his bedroom yesterday .. .He had had to to turn away from her so that she wouldn't see. How on earth he had managed to get his
body under control before it betrayed him, he still didn't know.
For one split second he had almost been on the point of begging her to touch him.
'Gray?'
Stephanie turned to wait for him to catch up with her. Under his tan, his face looked strained, and she ached to comfort him. She hated seeing him like this, but not as much as she hated the cause of his pain. How could Carla do this to him? Had she no compassion? But if Carla was fee to marry Gray ... Stephanie shivered, knowing that she didn't want the other woman to have such a permanent place in Gray's life. She told herself that she wasn't jealous, that there was no reason for her to be, but knowing that Gray loved someone else somehow disturbed her.
CHAPTER THREE
the estuary was on one of the prettiest parts of the Channel coastline, and although Stephanie couldn't quite repress a shudder as they walked into the boatyard, part of her couldn't help being aware of what an attractive picture the variety of boats made as they clustered around the marina just beyond the yard.
Out in the mouth of the estuary where it joined the sea, a dinghy race was taking place, and she paused automatically to watch them tack in and out of the buoys, remembering how much pleasure she had once gained from sailing.
She had learned to sail almost as soon as she could walk, and she and her parents had spent many happy holidays indulging their love of the sport.
Since Paul's death, she hadn't set foot in a boat of any kind, and linked with her deep guilt over his death was her own almost phobic dread of anything connected with the sea.
'You've got quite a lot of work in hand,' she commented to Gray as she walked at his side.