The Playboy in Pursuit

by Miranda Lee

  She wasn’t wearing panties. There again, she never wore panties to bed. But she didn’t want him thinking she wasn’t wearing any for him. He’d promised just to be her friend for the next few days and that was what she wanted, though whether she was testing him or herself, she wasn’t sure.

  ‘I wasn’t going to,’ he returned calmly. ‘Now, I haven’t made you anything heavy. Just a toasted ham and tomato sandwich with some hot chocolate and a slice of carrot cake for afters. I’d have brought you a doughnut, knowing how much you like them, but I don’t have any. I’ll get a dozen in tomorrow, and freeze them to be at the ready.’

  ‘You don’t have to,’ she said swiftly. ‘I can survive without doughnuts. It would probably do me good not to have any for a while, anyway. I might lose a few pounds.’

  ‘Don’t you dare. I like you the way you are.’

  Lucille had almost had enough of his compliments and considerations. ‘Is that my friend speaking, or my recently discarded lover trying to worm his way back into my good books?’

  His shrug carried no offence at her suspicious tone. ‘It’s simply the truth. I adore your lush shape. I can’t stand skinny women.’

  ‘I’m far from skinny, Val.’

  ‘Good.’

  The doorbell ringing put paid to that conversation.

  ‘Get into bed and get stuck into that sandwich,’ Val ordered. ‘I’ll go let Jane in and tell her what happened before I bring her in to you. That should give you a couple of minutes.’

  Nervous apprehension in the pit of Lucille’s stomach dispensed with her appetite and she literally had to force the sandwich down. The carrot cake was left, along with most of the hot chocolate. Val scowled at both when he brought the doctor in, but he didn’t say anything, for which she was grateful. He left after introductions were made, closing the door quietly behind him.

  Jane was a surprise. Tall, with very short straight brown hair, she looked older than the late twenties she had to be, with one of those large-boned faces which often improved with age. On first glance she wasn’t a woman most men would look at twice, but her looks grew on you very quickly. Lucille imagined that by forty she’d be very handsome. She had even features and fine grey eyes which held a serenity Lucille envied. She also had a wonderfully natural bedside manner.

  ‘Val’s told me what happened,’ she said, dropping her doctor’s bag on the floor and perching on the side of the bed. When she crossed her legs, Lucille noted they were very good legs. She probably had a very good figure too, under that rather severe grey suit she was wearing.

  ‘Beastly world this is sometimes,’ she added, ‘but at least you weren’t seriously hurt. The poor fellow who robbed you was probably a drug addict. You have to feel sorry for them. They get so desperate.’

  Lucille didn’t feel sorry for him at all. But this woman did. Val was right. She was a rare human being.

  ‘Val said you had some bruises but you wouldn’t show him. Could I see them, please?’

  ‘Of course.’ Lucille pushed down the bedclothes and hitched up her nightie, turning over onto her side.

  Jane’s touch was gentle. ‘Mmm, they’re nasty-looking, all right, but nothing to worry about. I’ll give you the name of a cream you can buy to rub in and get rid of the bruising more quickly. You might develop a few aches and pains by morning as well, but nothing a couple of baths and a good painkiller can’t put right. I’ll just take your blood pressure,’ she said, and bent down for her bag.

  She frowned on taking it. ‘One-sixty over eighty. The top figure’s a bit high. You’re not afraid of me, are you?’ she asked, smiling wryly.

  ‘Not at all,’ Lucille denied sharply.

  ‘Then Val’s probably right. The incident has upset you more than you realise. You’re wound up, tight as a drum. Your blood pressure isn’t dangerous but you need to relax. Would you like an injection? Or maybe some sleeping tablets?’

  ‘I’d rather not have either,’ she replied tautly.

  ‘Why’s that?’

  ‘My mother got on the merry-go-round of sleeping tablets and never got off. I can cope. Honestly I can. And it’s not just tonight’s incident which has me in a bit of a bind at the moment. It’s…well…I guess you could call it…life.’

  ‘Or maybe you should call it Val,’ Jane said on an unexpectedly dry note, her intelligent eyes gauging Lucille’s reaction to her intuitive guess. ‘You’re in love with him, aren’t you? And he’s got you into such a state you can’t think straight.’

  Lucille saw no point in denying it. ‘You might say that,’ she said, and sighed a shaky sigh.

  ‘The man’s a menace. Oh, don’t get me wrong. He’s a lovely human being. Kind as the day is long. And surprisingly decent, despite that decadent father of his. He just doesn’t realise the effect he has on women. I had a terrible crush on him for years. It was awful. Did he ever tell you how and when we met?’

  Lucille nodded.

  ‘In that case you can understand how vulnerable I was all those years ago. Just a baby at eighteen. And here was this gorgeous and rather exotic creature, caring about me and my mother, being incredibly kind in getting me jobs, then paying me far too much for them. Thankfully, I had enough sense to hide my feelings. Even back then I knew loving him was futile. Dashing young bucks like Val didn’t fall in love with plain girls like me. Eventually, I got over my romantic fantasies and became his friend instead, which is a far better relationship to have with him, I assure you. Being his girlfriend would be hell, in my opinion. He’s too much man, if you know what I mean. Too driven. Too passionate. Too…intense. Only a woman of like mind and like nature could keep up with him, or keep his interest. That’s why his girlfriends never last. I’ve no doubt that one day he’ll fall in love, but heaven help the woman if she doesn’t love him back.’

  Lucille knew exactly what Jane meant. But was she the woman he loved? Or just the woman he wanted at the moment? Why did that Angela female keep popping into her head?

  ‘Val told me that you and he are just close friends,’ Jane went on thoughtfully. ‘You haven’t told him you love him, have you?’ she added worriedly, peering into Lucille’s strained face.

  ‘No…’

  ‘Good. If you want him to fall in love with you, that would be the kiss of death.’

  ‘He…he says he’s already in love with me,’ Lucille said tentatively.

  ‘He is? My goodness, the sneaky devil. He never said a word. But that’s wonderful! Or is it? What’s the problem, Lucille? Why are you keeping Mum about your feelings? Is it that he won’t marry you, the naughty man?’

  ‘He hasn’t mentioned marriage yet. Though we haven’t known each other long enough for that kind of talk. It’s just that I’m having a lot of doubts…about Val’s feelings for me. Or should I say about his ability to sustain them.’

  ‘Oh, no, don’t doubt that. If Val loves you, then it’ll be the for ever kind. Trust me on that.’

  Lucille couldn’t get past the word if, but she thought she’d said enough already. ‘Um…Val might not have wanted me to tell you about this, so don’t say anything to him when you go out, will you?’

  ‘Not a word. But do let me know when he asks you to marry him. Because if he loves you, then he will.’

  There was that horrible word if again.

  ‘But back to why Val called me. You’re probably right about the sleeping pills. If you can do without, so much the better. But please don’t hesitate to call me again if things worsen. Don’t ever be too proud—or too silly—to think you can’t go through life without needing any help, be that either medication or simply counselling. We all need help sometimes. Now, I’ll just jot down the name of that cream for your bruises.’

  She riffled through her bag and brought out a prescription pad and pen. ‘I’ll give it to Val and he can ring an all-night chemist and have it delivered tonight, if he so desires. And he probably will.’

  ‘Then don’t give it to him,’ Lucille insisted. ‘Give it to m
e. I’ll get it tomorrow some time.’

  ‘Good idea. When Val decides he’s going to play Good Samaritan, he does it to the nth degree. And there’s no stopping him. In some ways it can get a bit tiring. He simply won’t take no for an answer.’

  ‘No is a word men like Val don’t understand,’ Lucille muttered drily.

  ‘I know exactly what you mean,’ Jane agreed. ‘They take it as a challenge and won’t stop till they find some way to get their own way. But you obviously know that already. Here’s the name of the cream, and a certificate giving you the rest of the week off. If you’re not going to take any tablets, then I think it wise you don’t put any added stress on yourself for a few days. That way you’ll allow Mother Nature to do the relaxing for you. Pardon me for saying this, but might you not be better sleeping in Val’s bed? Sex is a wonderful relaxant.’

  ‘We’re having a bit of a break from that,’ Lucille said stiffly, and Jane’s eyebrows arched.

  ‘Mmm. A girl who can say no to Val Seymour’s body? Maybe he’s met his match after all. Lovely to meet you, Lucille. Take care.’

  Lucille lay there after Jane left, thinking. She faintly heard the front door open and close, heralding the woman’s departure. Thirty seconds later, Val knocked, then walked in.

  Lucille’s eyes washed over him, some of Jane’s words springing back into her mind. He just doesn’t realise the effect he has on women. Followed by the surprised A girl who can say no to Val Seymour’s body?

  It wasn’t just his looks which attracted her now, though they were breathtaking enough. There was also that irresistible mixture of tenderness and passion which he infused into everything he did.

  ‘Jane said you refused to take any medication,’ he grumped, clearly unhappy with her decision.

  ‘That’s right. I don’t need it.’

  ‘Stubborn,’ he muttered. ‘That’s what you are.’

  ‘It’s my decision, Val.’

  He scowled down at the tray as he picked it up. ‘You didn’t eat your cake or drink your hot chocolate, either.’

  ‘I’m sorry, I just…couldn’t.’

  His sigh sounded weary. ‘I can see you’re going to be a difficult patient.’

  ‘I’m not a patient, Val. I’m not sick.’

  ‘You’ve had a shock.’

  ‘All I need is a good night’s sleep.’

  ‘Will you be able to sleep?’

  ‘I don’t see why not.’

  ‘Lucky you,’ he muttered under his breath. ‘I’ll say goodnight, then. See you in the morning,’ he bit out, and whirled away from her.

  She almost called out to him as he carried the tray from the room, but she bit her tongue just in time. More of Jane’s words came back to haunt her, especially the ones about how men like Val were challenged by the word, no, then pulled out all stops to get their own way. Which was what, exactly, in her case?

  He wanted her to be his girlfriend, to move in with him, to be at his beck and call in every facet of his life, both social and personal. When she’d refused, he’d pursued her on the phone then unexpectedly declared his love for her. Was that declaration real, or just a ploy to get her to do what he wanted? And what of this Florence Nightingale act? Was that a ploy, too?

  Lucille groaned and snapped off the bedside lamp, plunging the room into darkness. But her head just whirled and whirled. Time dragged by and still no sleep came. Impossible, with all the mental toing and froing going on in her mind.

  Lord, she was never going to get to sleep.

  She should have taken Jane up on the offer of a sedative. Anything would be better than this emotional hell she was enduring.

  In the end, she couldn’t stand it any longer. Snapping a lamp back on, she threw back the sheet and swung her legs over onto the thick blue carpet. Levering herself up onto her feet, she forced herself to walk to the door and open it. Maybe Val had something she could take. Anything. A painkiller might do.

  ‘Val?’ she called out. Weakly at first, but then more loudly.

  The door of his bedroom was wrenched open and there he stood, in nothing but those incredibly sexy silk pyjama pants, slung low on his hips. Her stomach lurched at the sight of his semi-naked body, then again at the thoughts which swiftly followed.

  ‘What is it?’ he bit out sharply. ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘I can’t sleep,’ she confessed, and he gave her an exasperated look.

  ‘I did warn you, didn’t I?’

  ‘Do you have anything which might help me relax?’

  He stared at her hard for a moment, and she wondered if he was reading her shameful mind. ‘I might have something. Go back to bed. I’ll bring it in to you.’

  She was lying there stiffly under the sheet when he came in with what looked like a glass of water in his hand and nothing else.

  ‘Drink this,’ he ordered.

  She drank, assuming some drug was dissolved in the water. ‘What was it?’ she asked as he took the empty glass and placed it down beside the lamp.

  ‘Just water. I couldn’t find anything. I’m not a tablet-taker. But it wasn’t a tablet you were looking for when you called out to me, was it?’

  ‘I don’t know what you mean. Of course it was!’

  ‘You might be able to fool yourself, Lucille, but you can’t fool me. I could see it in your eyes when you looked at me. You want sex.’

  Her heart quickened at his words, her lips parting.

  ‘There’s no shame in that,’ he said matter-of-factly, taking her shoulders and pressing her back onto the pillow. ‘So why deny it? Why deny yourself? You need to relax very badly, Lucille. A climax should do it. I can do that for you. You know I can. Just close your eyes, lie back, and let me…’

  Lucille could feel her eyes closing, his shockingly seductive words stripping her of all will but to do exactly as he said.

  After throwing back the sheet, he began by kissing her mouth, then her throat, slowly working his way down her body, his hands peeling the nightie from her tautly expectant body an inch or two at a time, gradually uncovering more bared skin for his lips to tease and torment on their way towards his ultimate goal.

  If relaxing her was his intention, then it certainly wasn’t his interim aim. He took for ever over her breasts, not moving on till her nipples were like glistening bullets, burning after being tugged at by his teeth, then sucked sweetly. Her stomach was like a rock by the time he licked his way over it, her spiralling desire having tightened her muscles till she felt as if she was stretched out on a rack. She could feel the wet heat of her arousal between her legs. Her thighs began quivering long before he reached them.

  ‘Poor baby,’ he murmured as he kissed the bruise on her hip, then again when he reached the one on her thigh.

  She gasped when his mouth honed straight in on her clitoris. For by then she was screaming inside with need. There was no hope of hanging on for long after his tongue started flicking over that exquisitely sensitive mass of concentrated nerve-endings. When his lips actually closed around it, and sucked, she came with a rush and a strangled cry, her mind torn between delight and dismay.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she sobbed, even as her flesh spasmed in the most blissful rapture. ‘Sorry…’

  ‘Don’t be silly,’ Val chided softly. ‘There’s nothing to be sorry about. I don’t want anything for myself. This is for you, my darling. All for you…’

  And, to her joy and astonishment, he bent his lips to her body once more.

  ‘Sleep well?’ was his first question when she finally had the courage to leave her room the following morning.

  He was sitting at the breakfast bar on one of the stools, dressed all in black again. A mug of steaming coffee sat on his right, a newspaper was spread out before him. He’d shaved, ridding him of the stubble which he’d used to such tantalising effect on her the previous night.

  Lucille didn’t blush. She’d done all her blushing on first waking up. Now, she looked at him with curiosity, at this man who could give a
woman so many mind-blowing climaxes without wanting anything for himself. Was that love? Or a ruthless route to a goal?

  Lucille had to admit that it had been an incredible experience, and one which would enslave just about any woman.

  ‘Very well, thanks to you,’ she answered truthfully. ‘And yourself?’

  He shrugged, the hint of smile playing around his mouth. ‘I’ve had better.’

  ‘I feel a fraud not going to work,’ she said. ‘I feel marvellous.’ Which, again, was true. Her body was at peace even if her mind wasn’t as yet.

  ‘Then come to the theatre with me,’ he suggested. ‘I won’t be there all that long. A couple of hours at most. I’ve only got the two principals rehearsing today. I’ve given the rest of the cast the day off.’

  ‘Why do you have to be there at all? Isn’t that the director’s job? My God, Val, you didn’t fire him yesterday, did you?’

  ‘No. He’s come down with a gastric virus. That’s why he was being such a pain. Hopefully it’s one of those forty-eight-hour bugs and he’ll be back on deck by tomorrow. But, to be honest, I’m glad to have a crack at sorting things out between Angela and Raoul without Nigel around. Something’s going on there I don’t like. A clash of egos, probably. But their most important dance—the tango, the climax to the show—is anything but inspiring at the moment. I’m going to give them both some come-hurry today, I can tell you. This show is going to be a smash hit, even if I have to turn into a bully-boy.’

  ‘I can’t imagine you ever being a bully-boy,’ Lucille said thoughtfully.

  Val smiled a wicked smile. ‘That’s because I’ve only showed you my good side so far.’

  That was what Lucille was afraid of.

  Still, she didn’t mind the idea of seeing him bully this Angela around a bit. It would be her only chance of seeing ‘Flame’ in action on the stage. No way was she going to let Val persuade her to accompany him to the actual première on Friday night. After what had happened last night, it was pointless pretending she wasn’t going to continue their affair. But their relationship was going to remain a very private romance for the time being.