She heard him sigh as he brought her up against the hard length of his body and any thought of resistance vanished. Her arms lifted to grasp his broad shoulders; she tipped back her head, offering her mouth, and the sensual, seeking warmth of his sent arrows of quivering delight soaring through her. His hand slipped beneath her sweatshirt and curved over her breast, and she groaned in agonised pleasure.
'Take your clothes off,' he said urgently. Pulling her sweatshirt over her head, he stepped back and swiftly pulled off his sweater and shirt and shed his jeans.
In a flurry, she shook off the rest of her clothes then hesitated, awed by the magnificent splendor of Justin's hard, aroused body. She felt the pounding of her blood in her veins, and as if from a great distance she heard his deep, husky voice.
'Ah, Zoe. I have waited years to do this,' he murmured, and then he took her into his arms, naked flesh to naked flesh.
She was burning, her senses swimming; she clung to him, her small hands curving around his broad back. She was sailing through the air! She was soaking!
'Ahhh,' she cried, her blue eyes widening to their fullest extent as she gazed bemusedly up into Justin's laughing face.
'I've fantasized for years about sharing a shower with you, little one,' he growled, his lips roaming over her eyes, her cheeks, and finally finding her mouth, while the water pounded down on them.
Wonderingly she gave herself up to his magic touch; she trembled when he picked up the soap and massaged the creamy lather all over her breasts and lower to her thighs, her legs, and back. She cried out, her fingers slipping on his wet skin. For a second their eyes met, his black, powerful, predatory, hers wild and wanting, and then he was inside her.
'Zoe, Zoe, are you all right?' She opened her eyes to gaze dazedly into his darkly flushed face.
'Better than all right,' she murmured. 'As fantasies go that surpassed them all.'
Justin scooped her hard against his shuddering body. 'God! I thought you'd fainted.'
'Silly.' She smiled bewitchingly up at him. 'It was ecstasy; the little death, I think the French call it.'
'Whatever. It's bed for you.'
Zoe sat on the dockside bench, an indulgent smile on her face as she watched the man and boy standing at the edge discussing the relative merits of the historic small boats riding at anchor. They had spent a wonderful couple of hours exploring the Maine Maritime Museum in Bath. Val had been intrigued by the shipyard, the joiner's shop, the rope-making, fascinated by the lobster exhibit, and completely entranced by the model boats.
It was only four days since Justin's arrival in her son's life, and yet, seeing them standing together hand in hand, one could believe they had been together always. A tinge of sadness dimmed her smile; this day out was a treat because very shortly Val was due in the hospital in New York to start the chemotherapy.
Justin had seen the doctor on Monday. She chuckled at the memory. She had gone with him to the surgery in Portland and to her surprise and amusement the arrogant, all-powerful Justin had gone pale at the sight of his own blood. Still, it was all the more courageous of him to have offered to be a donor, given his horror of everything medical, she realised generously.
His blood sample had been sent on to the lab in New York and tomorrow they were going to New York to talk to Professor Barnet and, she hoped, get the result. Because four days later Val was due back in hospital. . .
She closed her eyes briefly and sent up a silent prayer. Dear God, let it be a match.
'He'll be fine, Zoe. Stop worrying.' Justin joined her on the bench, his arm going comfortingly around her shoulder.
The past few days, living as man and wife, had been surprisingly easy for Zoe. No, not just easy. Locked in Justin's arms every night, for a while she forgot all her troubles and found comfort in his masculine strength.
But sometimes, like now, the worry for her son overwhelmed her.
She turned bleak eyes to his, but before she could comment Val was scrambling on to her knee. She looked into his beloved little face, which was so happy, and had an image of him a month from now, minus his gorgeous black curls, his face racked with pain and her heart clenched in anguish. She wanted to weep. But of course she didn't.
They ended the day with a very early dinner at a steak and seafood restaurant with a nautical atmosphere on Front Street in Bath. Justin, at Zoe's instigation, ordered the fresh lobster.
'You can't visit this part of the world without trying the fresh fish it's renowned for,' she insisted with a happy grin.
'Who's visiting?' Justin drawled sardonically, effectively dampening her mood.
She must never forget, she told herself sternly as Justin manoeuvred the car along the road home, he might be a tower of strength in her fight for her son's health, and he was a brilliant lover, as the past few days had proved, but however much she wished it otherwise he did not love her. . .
She remained silent for the rest of the journey home, and when Justin stopped the car in the drive she climbed out, but instead of going inside she hugged Val and gave him a quick kiss, saying, 'Daddy will look after you for an hour or two. I need to go and see Aunty Margy.'
Not looking at Justin, she set off walking down the hill. She had to get away for a while. She needed some space, some time to think, but Justin seemed to fill her every waking moment.
He had completely taken over; his computers were installed in one bedroom, he was installed in her bedroom, and everywhere he went in the house Val was with him.
She heard their voices, their laughter. She knew she was being stupidly jealous. Worse, not only was she jealous of Justin's rapport with Val, but she was jealous of her own son. Just once she would have liked Justin to look at her with the same fiercely tender love he lavished on Val.
Putting her red duffel coat tightly around her, she bent her head against the wind and walked into the village. A long talk to Margy might help, and in any case she was shamefully neglecting the business.
Half an hour and two cups of tea later, sitting in the studio at the back of Margy's cottage, Zoe felt relaxed enough to talk.
'He's an incredibly…not so much handsome as impressive-looking man,' Margy said, grinning. 'And certainly a three-timer, it’s just a pity it wasn't you he was doing it with. But then the best are usually swine, because they know they can get away with it.'
Zoe had to laugh. 'It sounds awful when you say it out loud, but true none the less. I actually dragged him away from his latest girlfriend, you know.' The grin faded from her face. It wasn't amusing at all. It was tragic. . .
'What's wrong?' Margy asked.
'Nothing.' Zoe stood up. She hadn't told Margy her hidden agenda of getting Justin into bed—getting pregnant. So she could hardly tell her she was sleeping with him again, and totally humiliated by her inability to resist him. Idly she flicked through a pile of drawings for Thanksgiving. 'I should be helping you, Margy.'
'Don't worry, I can manage the business; you look after Val. And yourself. Don't let your ex bully you into anything you don't want to do.' Margy's concern was genuine but she spoilt it by adding, 'Mind you, good sex is hard to come by; you could send him down here.'
Zoe laughed. 'Down, girl.' Then she caught sight of the clock on the wall. 'Heavens! Is that the time?' It was almost seven, and, with a hasty goodnight, she left.Margy was great at putting things in perspective, she mused as she walked briskly back up the hill, the few street-lamps casting an eerie glow in the twilight. Instead of resenting the sex she shared with Justin, she simply had to keep reminding herself that her priority was her son. She had to be hard and think of Justin and his sperm simply as possible donors. But with luck he might fall in love with her—-an added bonus. . .
She stopped a few yards from the house; there was a strange car parked outside the front door. She wasn't expecting anyone. Her heart missed a beat. Val. No, she was panicking; she knew the doctor's car. It was probably one of the many electricians or computer men Justin had arranged, and, striding on up
the steps, she pushed off her shoes on the porch and walked into the hall.
She slipped off her coat, and, brushing a few stray tendrils of hair from her eyes, she heard Val's laughter coming from the den. Silently she crossed the hail and pushed open the door. Val loved a surprise. . .
But it was Zoe who got the surprise; all the colour drained from her face as she took in the view before her. Justin was sprawled on the floor, Val balanced on his flat stomach, and draped over the old hide sofa, laughing down at him, was his girlfriend Jess.
Her immediate reaction was to storm into the room and throw the other woman out of her house, but as soon as the thought entered her mind she dismissed it. They had not seen her; they were too busy laughing. Quietly she stepped back into the hall and pulled the door to.
She had vowed to sacrifice anything to save her son, and the full enormity of what she had to do chilled her to the bone. She stood in the ball looking vacantly around her. She didn't cry. She couldn't; she had no more tears left.
Pride, self-respect meant nothing put against Val's life. Justin held all the cards; he might be Val's only chance, and if that meant she had to put up with his girlfriend in her home she had no choice.
A few moments earlier she had actually thought they had a chance as a family. Never in her worst nightmare had she envisaged Justin being so callous, so amoral as to invite his girlfriend to her home, especially as he had spent the last few nights in Zoe's bed.
She pushed open the door again and walked in. 'Hello, Val, darling.' She spoke to her son, and feigned surprise at seeing the woman on the sofa. 'Jess, isn't it? This is a surprise. What brings you here?' Justin had jumped to his feet and she flashed him a vitriolic glance. 'Or need I ask?'
'Zoe, I'm so sorry; I came as soon as Justin told me. If I can be of any help?'
'I'm sure Justin will be suitably grateful, but if you will excuse me it is well past Val's bedtime.'
Sweeping her son up into her arms, she glared at Jess over the top of his head. 'Justin can get you something to eat. We had an early dinner so I'm going to have an early night. It will give you and Justin time to catch up on everything, and he can show you out.' She spun on her heel. . .
'Zoe, wait,' Justin demanded, and, catching her arm, he said, 'You're not being very hospitable to Jess.'
'Sorry, but in case you've forgotten we have an early start in the morning.'
'No, I haven't forgotten and Jess has kindly offered to stay and look after Val for the day.'
'Stay here?' It was even worse than she had thought.
'Yes, where else?'
'Well, you know where the bedrooms are; you make her comfortable.' And, tearing herself away from his restraining hand, she quickly left the room with Val held sleepily in her arms.
She closed Val's bedroom door behind her, and carried him into his own little bathroom. He was too tired to be talkative; she washed him down, and pulled on his Bugs Bunny pyjamas, and carried him back into his room.
'Top or bottom?' She asked the same question she always asked and knew the answer.
'Top, Mom, and isn't Jess nice?'
'Yes, darling,' she agreed, lying through her teeth, as she lifted him up to the top bunk. Val had chosen the bunk beds himself last summer when he'd graduated from a cot. A local craftsman made them in pine, the ends lovingly decorated in small woodland animals. Zoe had thought at the time that although she was not going to have any more children they would be good when Val got older and had friends to stay.
Now she wasn't sure he would get much older, and in the past months had quite often slept in the bottom one herself. Tonight she intended to do just that.
'What story would you like, Val?' She rummaged through the dozens of story books on the matching pine desk. 'How aboutSinbad?She knew it was one of his favourites, but when she turned back to the bunk his eyes were closed and he was fast asleep. Leaning over him, she kissed his pale cheek, her heart full of love, and whispered the Lord's Prayer as she always did, adding a plea for his full recovery.
Tears hazing her eyes, she stripped off her own clothes and burrowed under the Daffy Duck coverlet on the bottom bunk. She closed her eyes. She did not want to think, but she could not close down her mind so easily. Last night she had slept in Justin's arms, and tonight hewould be sleeping—no, not sleeping but something! — with the lovely Jess. In her, Zoe's, house.
Zoe had loved Justin once, and with his betrayal she had grown to hate him. Then, a few days ago, she had realised that she still loved him. But now she hated him yet again. The saying went that hate was the other side of love—one emotion but sometimes mistaken for the other. But as she lay curled up in the small bunk, her thoughts spinning like a windmill, she came to the conclusion that popular belief was wrong: it was possible to live with love and hate. Two opposite emotions could coexist in one person. Her hatred of Justin was real; she despised what he was. But she did love him.
She lay staring at the blank timber above her, wondering what the couple downstairs were doing now, and hating the images that her vivid imagination flashed in her mind. It didn't matter, she told herself. Nothing mattered but Val.
How long she lay there listening to the faint, reassuring sound of her son's breathing she had no idea, but suddenly the door opened and Justin walked in.
'So this is where you're hiding. I might have guessed.' He strolled across to the bunks, leant over and kissed Val, and then sat down on the edge of the lower bunk, bending his head to avoid banging it on the bar. 'Really, Zoe, you are being very childish. Jess was hoping to get to know you better.'
Her eyes, widening in horror, flew to his face. Incredibly he was deadly serious. She could not believe the sheer audacity, the barefaced cheek, the nerve. . . 'I—I ' She couldn't find the words. 'Oh, get out,' shefinally said, defeated.
'Not without you, Zoe. Now be sensible.' His head bent lower and his lips sought hers.
'No,' she protested vehemently.
'Yes,' he drawled throatily, his hand sliding around her neck and lifting her face for his kiss.
'Let go of me and go. I want to stay here with Val tonight. Have you forgotten tomorrow is the day we. . .?'
Justin leant back, his hand falling from her neck. 'No, I haven't forgotten. How could I? It's my result we're talking about, Zoe, and I had thought we could comfort and support each other.'
'I need to stay here with Val.'
'And what of my needs?' he asked sardonically.
She could see the angry glitter in his dark eyes by the moonlight shining through the window, and for a second she thought she saw despair, but the moon drifted behind a cloud, plunging the room into darkness, and she dismissed the thought, saying bluntly, 'Go and see Jess; I'm sure she can help you.'
She watched him walk away, and suddenly she didn't want him to go. Surely it must have meant something that he had come to her first?
Leaping out of the bunk, she dashed to the door, in time to see him disappear into the one remaining spare room—Jess's. Well, what had she expected? she asked herself fatalistically, and with one last kiss for the sleeping child she crawled back in the bunk, pulling the cover up over her head.
The journey to New York the next morning was horrendous. Breakfast had been a silent affair. Stilted good mornings had been exchanged between the three adults. Zoe had given Val a quick kiss and a hug before getting into the car for the first leg of the journey.
She hated leaving Val with Jess. The only thing that had persuaded her had been the fact that she had arranged for Margy to pick Val up in a couple of hours, and she had finally found the spirit to tell the black-eyed witch to leave as soon as Margy arrived.
She glanced sideways at Justin as he drove the car through the early morning traffic. He was staring straight ahead, his expression dark and brooding, and he somehow looked so alone that she couldn't help it—she put her small hand on his muscular thigh. 'It will be all right, Justin; we have to think positive. . .' She needed to talk, perhaps to disguise her
nerves, her own worst nightmare. 'I know you're frightened of blood, but don't worry, you'll be fine.'
'Me, worry?' He shot her an angry look. 'If anyone needs to worry it's you. You do realise that if I'm not a match you have, in the last few hours, completely alienated the only other person who can help?'
'What? What are you talking about?' she asked, completely lost.
'Stop playing the dumb innocent, Zoe. I cannot believe how nasty you were to Jess, and she is our last hope. You do realise that, don't you?' he demanded with icy sarcasm.
'Jess?' His girlfriend? A horrible black chasm opened in front of Zee.
The car screeched into the airport car park, and Justin, without glancing at her, got out. 'Hurry; the plane is waiting.’
She had to run to keep up with him. 'Justin, wait.' But he chose not to hear and he did not even look at her until they were safely strapped into their seats on the plane.
'Some mother you turned out to be, allowing your personal prejudice to blight Val's chances.'
'Who exactly is Jess?' She ignored his biting comment and grabbed his hand, which was lying on the armrest between them. 'Tell me, Justin.'
'Don't be ridiculous; you know perfectly well she's my half-sister. She might have been unpleasant to you last weekend but she had her reasons, and as soon as I told her about Val she came over as quickly as she could to offer her help. Which for some perverse reason you refused.'
'Oh, my God!' Zoe clasped her hands to her head; she could not believe what she had done, what she had thought of Jess. 'But wait a minute.' She lifted her head, staring with haunted eyes up at Justin's dark, implacable face. 'You told me you only had a stepsister.'
'I did no such thing, Jess is my half-sister-—we share the same father. Why else. . .?’
He stepped, his dark, piercing gaze scrutinizing her white face. 'Wait a minute; you mean you thought Jess was my mistress? You actually thought I invited a girlfriend to share the house my wife and son call home?'
The Valentine Child Page 14