by Natalie Fox
'You can't believe that, Alexia, you just can't!' he grated so harshly that suddenly she didn't.
Her fingers raked desperately through her hair. Now he was here she wasn't sure of anything any more.
'I...just thought --'
'That's the trouble with you, Alexia, you think too damned much!'
Her eyes suddenly blazed. 'In the circumstances I think it was quite an understandable conclusion to come to. And you haven't exactly denied it, have you?'
'Do I have to?'
'God, you're so damned arrogant,' she fumed. 'You really believe you are above it all, don't you?'
'Yes, sweetheart. Sky-high above denying such a ridiculous suggestion. I don't run my empire as if it were the Mafia. I have a reputation to think about. If you have problems with suppliers and lost orders-—'
'They were good orders,' she protested, 'ones we've had for years --'
'And suddenly they are dropping off.' His eyes softened and so did his voice. 'Can't you see why, Alexia? It's inevitable,' he reasoned. 'Stroben is struggling and word gets around and people get scared off. No one wants to do business with a company that is threatening to go under at any minute.'
Alexia got up and picked up the coffee-mugs and took them to the sink. She couldn't bear to face him. 'It.. .it seemed a bit of a coincidence,' she said shakily. 'When you came into my office you couldn't wait to throw insolvency in my face and then... then you said I'd be only too pleased to see you tonight and I thought that was why, I thought you... you wanted to gloat.'
'Wrong, Alexia. I said you'd be happy to see me tonight because I hoped you'd realise, after your date with whoever, just what we had going.'
She bit her lip in disbelief. Her first conclusion had been right after all but his sublime confidence was almost unbelievable.
Suddenly he was behind her, sliding his hands around her waist as she rinsed out the coffee-mugs. She closed her eyes at the contact, for a second let the delicious warmth envelope her.
'You didn't bring him back here --'
'There wasn't a man,' she blurted, 'I didn't say there was, you just presumed, so that makes you as bad as me.'
He laughed and spun her around to face him. 'It does, doesn't it? So now we can start all over again.' He lowered his mouth to hers and the kiss when delivered with such deep temptation nearly spun her out of control. She wanted the blessed release he offered with his mouth but it wasn't so easy to give in. She wanted more, so much more, his love not just this.
They parted and Alexia looked up at him, her eyes liquid with love. Couldn't he see that, couldn't he respond with his?
'Don't do that, Harry.'
'Kiss you? After last weekend I thought it was what we both wanted. There aren't any more barriers, Alexia, so don't try and invent some.'
There was one that was insurmountable and she didn't have to invent it because it was a fact. Her lost heart. 'Last weekend was a one-time thing, Harry,' she told him solidly, drew herself out from his arms and turned her back on him.
If he did have any feelings for her that remark would hurt. When she heard his soft, low laugh as she picked up the tea-towel she knew the truth. It was one-way traffic on her part.
'Are you saying that last weekend we were playing corporate games between the sheets?'
She spun on him, angrily. 'No, Harry, you just said it.'
His eyes hardened and for a moment she thought there was hope. Oh, why had he come here tonight? To torment her out of her mind? She couldn't take any more of this. Her heart iced. She wanted him to go because if he didn't she wouldn't be accountable for her actions.
'I think you'd better go --'
He snatched the tea-towel from her hand and flung it, reminiscent of the way he had flung her nightie up on to the frame of the four-poster. His hands came to her shoulders and held them firmly.
'I'm going nowhere tonight.'
'You can't stay!'
'I can and I will!'
'I haven't got a spare bed ready!'
His grip softened to a caress. 'Yours will do.'
'I'm... I'm not prepared to deep on the sofa for your convenience!' She squirmed under his caress. It was driving her crazy.
He raised a mocking brow. 'And I'm not prepared for you to sleep on the sofa for my inconvenience!'
'I'm not sleeping with you, Harry,' she told him huskily.
'I don't recall saying anything about sleeping. It might have escaped your notice, Alexia, but we are in the throes of an affair and lovers usually do what lovers do.'
But where was the love? she wanted to cry, but didn't because there was suddenly a more pressing need rising desperately inside her. His hand was running over her red organza shirt, his thumb moving tantalisingly across the peak of her nipple. One touch like this and she was liquid gold in his arms.
The fight and the sensible reasoning drained from her as slowly he started to unbutton her shirt. She gripped the working surface behind her to somehow try to summon up a shred of her former fight, but what was the use? Harry Masters knew his power and was so skilled and expert in his execution of it. She was useless under this sort of pressure, paralysed under the sensual spell of desire he hypnotised her with. She was going under, hopelessly, irretrievably, and there was nothing she could do about it.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The last button gave, and her breasts were exposed to him and her need so clearly displayed by the thrusting of her nipples that she closed her eyes in embarrassment.
'Don't do that, Alexia.' Harry's voice was roughened by his own desire. 'Don't ever be ashamed of your desire. It's very beautiful.' He lowered his head and his tongue pulsed over her hardened nipples then drew on them till her legs were boneless.
'And you take such cruel advantage of it,' she breathed heavily. 'What powers you, some sort of irresistible revenge?'
'Revenge doesn't power this, Alexia.'
He pressed himself into her and she felt the urgency of his need and sadly knew the truth of it all. So they had needs, hers equalled his in its intensity, but love lay in her heart, not the desire for satisfaction that lay in his.
But knowing that didn't dilute her need. She wanted him and for this moment in time he wanted her, and her reasoning and resistance couldn't be summoned strongly enough to say no.
She buttoned her shirt with trembling fingers and no words needed to be spoken because they both knew her action wasn't a refusal.
He gathered up his jacket and hold-all and she led him upstairs to her bedroom.
He made no comment about the out-of-date decor. Alexia saw the room for the first time and compared it with the exquisite comfort of his beautiful farmhouse. The drabness, except for the pastel-shaded patchwork quilt he was already discarding to the floor, appalled her and depressed her. There had been no reason to improve it, no motivation, no one to do it for. If Harry were a part of her life it would all be so very different.
'Alexia,' he murmured. 'What's wrong?'
He stood by the bed, unzipping his trousers, and he looked so natural, as if he was a part of her life. Like a husband who'd just returned home after a working spell away and was preparing to make love to his wife.
'I'm ashamed of my drab bedroom,' she told him quietly. It was awful. So bleak and unwelcoming, so very different from the romantic four-poster he had offered her.
He looked around as if seeing it for the first time. 'Surroundings don't matter. I'm looking at you, not the curtains.' He said it with such sincerity that she aborted the cynical thought that what else could he have said under the circumstances?
'Undress for me, Alexia. I want to watch you.'
The request surprised her and depressed her further. Was there no end to this humiliation? If he truly loved her she would revel in it but it was just a turn-on for him.
'And don't look at me that way, Alexia. You have a very beautiful body and you have no reason to be shy with me.'
Suddenly she was shy, which was ridiculous because he already knew
her so intimately. But she did it and as slowly she peeled off her clothes she felt the doubts fade and a new excitement blossoming inside her. She was pleasing him, and as he started to remove his own clothes she marvelled at the pleasure it gave her too. She blanked off the part of her mind that nurtured her hurt and fears and took the moment for what it was, pure hedonistic pleasure heightening their anticipation. They were each enhancing their desire from opposite sides of the bed. No contact but for their eyes and that intangible lust and sensuality that bridged the space.
Her breathing was short and shallow as they faced each other, their bodies golden and softly shadowed by the bedside lamps. Every pulse in her body was dangerously near the surface, tingling on her skin until she ached for the release he offered. He didn't even have to touch her and she was on the brink of ecstasy. He was aroused too, his excitement so obvious and magnificent, stretched silken power that strained for the same need as her own.
Slowly he came round to her side of the bed and took her in his arms, caressing his warm hands down her body till he reached her bottom. He pulled her into him, making suggestive movements in a parody of lovemaking while kissing her lips so passionately. Then with a moan of ragged desire he lowered her to the bed and entered her immediately, driving into her and watching her face. She reached up to him and pulled him down to her because she didn't want him to see the love in her eyes. She pressed her breasts against his chest, kissed his mouth, his eyes, thrilled to the thud of his heart and the quickness of his breath filling the room.
They moved as one, insatiable in their need, reckless and uninhibited.
'I can't stop, Alexia...'
She didn't want him to, not ever. She curled her fingers into his back and locked herself around him and cried out with him when they could hold on no longer. Harry held her steady when the final exquisite thrust filled them both with molten fire till they burned in each other's arms.
Arms and legs entwined, they lay exhausted and drained, letting the heat and relief wash gently through their limbs to leave their bodies limp and sated. Their coupling had been so quick and expedient and yet they had experienced complete and utter fulfilment. But there was a deep hollowness inside Alexia. Now that the fire of their passion had cooled there was a cold vacuum within her that only a sweet expression of love from him would fill and warm.
He seemed to sense her inward stillness and gathered his arms tighter around her, pulling her hard against his warm, muscular body.
'What's wrong? I thought I'd satisfied you,' he whispered.
She clung to him. 'You did,' she murmured. And he had, physically. She longed for the emotional satisfaction, though, for him to say that he loved her and wanted her to be a part of his life. He had said they were lovers and this was what lovers did, but where was the love? It beat in her heart not his.
Yet he was here and he didn't have to be. There were others who would willingly have given him a night of love but he had wanted her, come to her in his exhaustion. Slowly she edged her fingers over his chest, smoothed the coarse hair and lowered her lips to kiss it. Maybe Harry Masters just didn't know how to love. He knew how to make love and that was something very different.
It was a new thought and one she suddenly wanted to act on. And another thought swelled with it. What of herself had she ever given him? Abuse, accusations, her body, but had she ever given him her complete love, shown in other ways how deeply she felt for him?
She moved her lips up to his mouth and her hands up to the side of his face to caress him. She would show him and then he would know and it might lead the way for the release of his own heart. His mouth was impassive under hers, warm but unresponsive, his breathing deep and regular. With a smile she realised he was sound asleep. She wrapped her arms around him and snuggled down. There was time enough, all the time in the world for her to get her message across.
* * *
She was up first the next morning and Harry Masters, the great lover, was still dead to the world. She didn't mind, she really didn't. She looked down on him as he slept and loved him more than ever. He was vulnerable now with his tousled black hair drooping across his forehead, the lines of weariness from last night smoothed away after their loving. And it must have been loving, she convinced herself as she bent and whispered a kiss on his brow. It couldn't be anything else.
She dressed quietly so as not to waken him, jeans and a bright red T-shirt, and ran downstairs to make his breakfast as he had done for her in Wales. She rummaged in the fridge and produced barely nothing: a bit of old Cheddar, two eggs. She vowed to change her frugal lifestyle and venture to a supermarket one day.
She looked around the drab kitchen, switched on the radio as an instant remedy to cheer it up. What the hell had she been doing with her life these last three years? Waiting for Harry Masters, of course.
'What's that smell?' Harry asked as he came into the kitchen, already dressed and with his hold-all in one hand.
'A cheese omelette burning, actually,' she told him with a laugh and snatched the pan off the cooker.
'Well, I hope you don't intend dishing it up to me; I don't eat cheese.' There was no humour in the statement and she wondered if his headache had returned.
Deflated, Alexia plonked the smoking pan down by the sink. The phone rang and as she hurried out into the hall to take it she called out cheerily, 'Watch the toast, Harry, don't let it burn.'
She picked up the phone. 'Hello.'
'Alexia, how are you?'
Alexia tensed. Surely not! 'Who is this?' she asked though she thought she knew.
'Rex, of course. Don't tell me you've forgotten my existence?'
Recently she had. 'Hello, Rex.' She tried to sound pleasant but surprise put an edge to her voice. 'What can I do for you?' What on earth did he want after all this time?
'We need to talk, Alexia. I'm coming over --'
'No way!' she whispered fiercely, purposely keeping her voice low. She didn't want Harry to hear this though she had nothing to feel guilty about.
'I insist, Alexia. In about twenty minutes.' The line went dead and so did Alexia's pulse-rate. Twenty minutes! Harry would still be here and since when did Rex Parton insist on anything?
In a daze she went back to the kitchen where the toast was happily cindering and Harry Masters was rummaging in his hold-all at the kitchen table.
'I told you to look out for the toast!' Alexia juggled it into the sink and huffed at her hot fingers.
'You can have a look at this over the weekend, Alexia.' He took a file from his bag and put it down on the table, the burnt toast not warranting a mention.
His voice was cold and Alexia thought he might have overheard her phone call but on reflection he had appeared cold as soon as he had come downstairs.
Hesitantly she went to the table and picked up the file.
'The terms and conditions of the take-over—I hope it meets with your approval. I'm sure it will.'
She didn't care about the file or what it contained and she let it slide out of her grasp. She switched off the radio and an unbearable silence filled the room. What had happened? He seemed so bitter and distanced this morning.
'Coffee?' she offered, and to her dismay he glanced at his watch.
'I don't have time, I'm afraid.' For the very first time that morning he looked at her and Alexia faced defeat. There was no warmth in his eyes, no softness in his grim features, nothing she could hang her hopes on.
'Harry?' she murmured. She wanted to ask what was wrong, to ask if it was something she had done or said but Rex had complicated things. Her mind raced for a way to keep him here but her ex-lover was on his way to see her and if Harry stayed and they met...it was a complication she couldn't face.
'If you have any queries, give me a call,' he told her dismissively, zipping up his hold-all.
She wanted to scream at him but... but it was best he left at the moment. Yes, she would call him later, ask why he was acting this way.
'Yes, yes, I will.' H
er voice was cool now, the effect of panic closing in on her.
Harry looked at her uncertainly and she thought it was the one second in her life when she could have put it all to rights. A chance to plead with him to say what was bothering him. And there was something bothering him. She could see it in his tense jawline, those hard impenetrable eyes, and hear it in the coolness of his tone.
He stepped towards her and lightly brushed her mouth with his. A kiss that wasn't warm or anything else but maybe a thank-you for the overnight accommodation. Her pulses slowed dangerously. Another lost chance as he moved away from her and picked up his hold-all. She couldn't stop him, there wasn't time. In horror she watched as he walked out of the back door.
She stood in the kitchen, numbly listening to his footsteps on the gravel as he walked round the side of the house to his car. She heard the engine fire, the swish of tyres, the Jaguar receding into the distance.
The silence and the emptiness that followed was worse than anything she had ever experienced before. After last night he had no reason to be so offhand, so why? Desperately she shook away her numbness and started to clear away the debris of her unsuccessful attempt at finding a way to Harry's heart with her gastronomic talents. Of which there were none, she thought dismally as she scraped the leathery omelette from the pan. He didn't like cheese and she hadn't known that and when it came down to the hard facts of their relationship she didn't know much about him at all. It was a sexual relationship and had she been a fool to hope for more?
She heard a car coming up the drive and glanced at the clock. Rex had made good time...
'I forgot my bleeper,' a voice came from the open kitchen door.
Alexia swung from the sink, so jerkily that the frying-pan nearly went flying. She knew she must be scarlet but Harry didn't seem to notice as he strode over to the table and picked up his bleeper. He turned to her suddenly and she thought she saw something warm and soft in his eyes and her heart swelled with hope.
'Alexia, we need to talk. There's so much that's remained unsaid and --'
She moved towards him eagerly and it was then the crunch of another car on the gravel drive seemed to fill the room with sound till Alexia's head spun in dismay at another lost opportunity. She stopped dead, her head and mind fuzzing sickeningly.