by Anne Mather
His hands stilled. ‘Why not?’ he asked, and although his expression was tense she knew she had to go on.
‘Because I guessed—I hoped—it was because of what he’d told you that you didn’t try to see me again. When I got on the plane, I had no hope of ever coming back.’
Joe’s expression softened. ‘In that case, I suppose I ought to thank him. Even if I wanted to kill him until a few minutes ago.’ His hands gripped her waist and moved her until she was straddling his body. ‘God, you can’t know how good that feels.’
‘I think I can,’ she breathed, leaning in to him and caressing his mouth with her tongue. She put her hand down between them and stroked the outline of his manhood. ‘Does this mean you want me to stay?’
‘Try and get away,’ he told her hoarsely, his hands slipping beneath her skirt now to find the yielding waistband of her panties. ‘Just—let me—’ His breath quickened as he unfastened the button of his jeans, and she caught her breath as she realised what he planned to do.
‘What about your mother?’ she protested, even as she did what she could to assist him, and Joe offered a sound of anguish at her words.
‘I don’t think she’ll disturb us,’ he assured her huskily. ‘She knows what an unmitigated bastard I’ve been since I got back.’
‘Because of me?’ asked Olivia faintly, hardly daring to believe what he was saying.
‘Because of you,’ he agreed with feeling, tearing the silk a little as he eased into her heat. ‘God, it seems a lifetime since we were together.’
‘For me, too,’ she whispered against his ear. ‘Um—your mother said you’d mentioned my name to her.’
‘I did,’ he agreed, biting the lobe of her ear. ‘After we’d spent that afternoon together, I knew I wanted you. But as Diane was convinced you still cared about Richard I wasn’t certain you weren’t just using me to make him jealous.’
‘Using you...’ Olivia’s breath escaped on a sob as he moved inside her. ‘Oh, Joe, I’m so glad I came back.’
‘So am I,’ he told her achingly as his fingers found her, and her senses swam as her feelings soared away...
EPILOGUE
OLIVIA’S biography of Diane Haran was published to critical acclaim the following year. To her surprise, Diane had chosen not to change her biographer, even though by then she knew all about Olivia and Joe. But after meeting Mark Castellano, and discovering he was a younger, less intense version of his brother, Olivia decided she was hedging her bets. Diane was philosophical in some ways, and Mark was still a Castellano, after all.
But he was also a much less serious individual than his sibling, and although he was not averse to riding on Diane’s coat-tails as an actor Olivia suspected he wouldn’t want to settle down for some considerable time. It wasn’t her concern, really, except insofar as Richard and Diane were separating. Richard never did produce the photograph, and Joe surmised Diane had paid him off.
Olivia wrote most of the biography after she and Joe returned from their honeymoon. They’d spent the weeks before the wedding arranging for Olivia’s personal possessions to be transferred to the States. They’d also paid a flying visit to see her parents in Rotorua, and arranged for them to break their journey home in San Francisco, so that Olivia’s father could be there to give her away.
It had been a whirlwind courtship but Olivia had loved every minute of it. She didn’t really care what they did or where they went so long as they were together. Even Henry had settled down in his new surroundings, terrorising the neighbourhood’s bird population from his favourite spot among the leaves of an old acacia.
Mrs Castellano—or Lucia, as she’d suggested Olivia should call her—had proved endlessly supportive, taking over the organisation of the wedding, which was to be in June, and welcoming the Pyatts into her home. There was no point, she’d said, in them returning to England before the wedding. She’d suggested an extension of their holiday, and offered her house as somewhere they might like to stay.
‘It’s just as well you’ve set the date,’ she’d remarked to Olivia one afternoon, just a couple of weeks before the wedding. They had been studying catalogues of table decorations, making their final decisions over what flowers to choose. ‘It’s nicer to have the ceremony before you begin to show.’
Olivia, who had been studying a centrepiece of lilies and flame orchids, had looked at her future mother-in-law in surprise. ‘Before what begins to show?’ she asked uncomprehendingly. And then, as the realisation hit her, she said, ‘You can’t be serious!’
‘Come on, Livvy.’ Joe’s mother had taken to calling her that, and she found it rather sweet. ‘I thought of pretending I hadn’t noticed, but I’m so excited, I can’t keep it to myself. Doesn’t Joseph know yet? Is that why you’ve kept it a secret for so long?’
Olivia didn’t know what to say. She’d never dreamt that she might have conceived Joe’s baby. Indeed, she’d lived for so long believing she’d never have a baby that any symptoms she’d noticed she’d attributed to something else.
‘Nobody knows,’ she said now dazedly. ‘I didn’t know, until you mentioned it.’ She swallowed, running a nervous hand across her abdomen. ‘Do you think it’s true?’
Lucia gave a knowing smile, dimples appearing in her cheeks. ‘I’d say it was a definite possibility,’ she murmured softly. ‘Oh, my dear, when you turned pale at the sight of last night’s oysters, I think I knew for certain then.’
Olivia shook her head. ‘I had no idea,’ she admitted honestly, and then explained why she’d been so unperceptive. She closed her eyes for a moment. ‘Oh, God, I told Joe I couldn’t have children. What is he going to think?’
‘If I know my son, I’m fairly sure he’ll be delighted,’ Lucia assured her firmly. ‘But thank you for the insight into my son’s feelings for you. Knowing how much he’s always said he wanted a family, he must love you very much.’
And Joe, when she told him, was delighted. ‘But I thought you said—’ he began, and she put a finger across his mouth.
‘That was just another of Richard’s lies,’ she said, nestling closer to him. And then, changing the subject, she asked, ‘Do you think we should tell my parents or not?’
The first draft of Naked Instinct was finished in October, and Diane, who was on location in Louisiana, had very few comments to make. Apart from approving the manuscript, and the title, she gave Olivia credit for writing it so quickly. And wished her luck in finding a publisher to take it on.
In fact, Olivia’s own publisher was delighted to receive the manuscript from Kay Goldsmith, and the book itself was published just six months after Joe and Olivia’s daughter was born.
‘Two productions in one year,’ murmured Joe one warm September evening, watching Olivia feed baby Virginia with possessive eyes. ‘Can I make a request that next year you devote time to your husband? I love my daughter, but I’d also very much like some time with my wife—alone.’
ISBN-13: 9781460393093
PACIFIC HEAT
© 1998 Anne Mather
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