Mr Loverman

by Mary Lyons

  ‘Oh, this is great!’ Laura sighed with pleasure as she viewed a large, comfortable-looking four-poster bed, then went through to inspect the en suite bathroom. ‘And there’s no need for me to borrow your toothbrush,’ she added, coming back into the room. ‘Because there’s already one, plus some toothpaste, in a glass by the basin.’

  ‘Yes, I know. It’s mine.’

  ‘Well, that’s very thoughtful,’ she murmured sleepily. ‘And now, if you don’t mind, I think it’s time I went to bed.’

  ‘Of course I don’t mind,’ he drawled, his mouth twitching in silent humour as be shrugged off his casual hacking jacket and loosened his tie, before walking across the room to open the door of a large oak wardrobe.

  It took some time before the message reached her weary brain. But, as he removed a spare hanger from amongst the suits and shirts hanging in the cupboard, Laura finally began to gain some glimmer of the true situation.

  ‘Now just a minute!’ she protested, plonking herself down on the end of the bed, and glaring at the man who was now casually placing the loose change from his pockets on top of a chest of drawers. ‘This is my room, and—’

  ‘No. I’m afraid it isn’t,’ he told her smoothly, his eyes gleaming with unconcealed mockery. ‘And, before you say anything else, let me tell you that—other than by bribery and corruption—there’s no way I could have found you a room for tonight.’

  ‘I...I simply don’t believe you!’ she groaned, wondering what on earth she was going to do. If there wasn’t a spare room, here in this inn, she was going to be in serious trouble.

  ‘Whether you believe me or not, it’s a fact,’ he retorted firmly. ‘When the whole paraphernalia of the film crew and their assorted suppliers—caterers, drivers, sound recordists, et cetera—all descended on this sparsely inhabited area, they took just about every available piece of accommodation for miles around. In fact, I only got this room by the skin of my teeth, thanks to the chief cameraman’s wife giving birth to a baby—which means that he’s gone back to London for a few days. So you can like it or lump it—but that’s the situation in a nutshell.’

  ‘I’m not sharing this room with you...you conniving bastard!’ she ground out furiously.

  ‘OK, Laura—please yourself,’ he drawled sardonically, tossing a bunch of keys onto the bed beside her. ‘There’s nothing to stop you spending the night in the car.’

  Scowling at the rotten man, who was now calmly sitting down on a chair and removing his shoes and socks, Laura realised that she was well and truly over a barrel.

  It was all right for Jack. Since he’d been driving, he hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol, and was now as sober as a judge. But of course she’d had a fair amount of delicious red wine with her meal. Which she now realised had been a grave mistake, because her tired, slightly woozy brain was obstinately refusing to come up with any solution to the problem.

  He probably was right about the film people having appropriated all the local accommodation. However, it didn’t alter the fact that Jack had deliberately chosen not to tell her about the lack of available beds until it was far too late. Was this man a devious, artful and scheming rat—or what?

  ‘Well? Have you made up your mind? I think you’ll find the car quite comfortable. A little cold, of course,’ he drawled mockingly, ‘but otherwise perfectly adequate. However, it might be a good idea to take one of these blankets with you. I’ll do my best to arrange a hot cup of tea in the morning, and—’

  ‘Oh, shut up!’ she ground out, almost choking with fury—mostiy at herself for having been so easily duped. ‘If you think your damned car is so “perfectly adequate”, why don’t you spend the night there?’

  ‘Forget it!’ he laughed, taking off his tie and beginning to slowly unbutton his shirt. ‘This is my bed. And, since I’m a great believer in the equality of the sexes...’

  ‘Do me a favour!’ she snarled. ‘You’ve never been anything but a dyed-in-the-wool male chauvinist pig!’

  ‘...I’m quite willing to share my bed with you,’ he continued smoothly. ‘However, I have no intention of sleeping either on the floor or out in my car.’

  Laura stared at him grimly for a moment, well aware that the foul man was laughing at her, behind that bland expression on his handsome face. Unfortunately, she could see no way round the problem. Especially when, like Jack, she didn’t fancy spending a cold, uncomfortable night huddled on the back seat of his car—however luxurious the leather upholstery might be.

  ‘Oh, all right!’ she exclaimed bitterly, accepting her defeat with a heavy sigh. ‘I’m cold, tired and fed up. So it doesn’t look as if I’ve got any choice.’

  ‘Sensible girl,’ he murmured.

  ‘You can cut out that patronising tone,’ she was stung into retorting. ‘And I’m going to need a nightgown, so you’d better hand over one of those expensive silk shirts of yours which I can see hanging in the wardrobe.’

  ‘Anything else?’ he enquired sardonically.

  ‘Yes. Don’t even think of trying any funny business. Because if you do I’ll scream blue murder and cause one hell of a rumpus! Do I make myself clear?’ she demanded.

  ‘Crystal-clear,’ he agreed with a grin.

  ‘Good!’ she snapped, before whipping the shirt out of his hands and whisking herself into the bathroom, quickly locking the door behind her.

  Using her anger as a shield, Laura resolutely refused to let herself even think about having to spend the night in bed with Jack. Quite apart from anything else, she was very tired. In fact, as soon as her head hit the pillow, she was bound to fall immediately into a deep sleep.

  On the other hand, if it was really all that simple and straightforward, why was she still sitting on this stool in the bathroom, nervously biting her nails? she asked herself some twenty minutes later.

  Come on—stop being so pathetic, she told herself firmly. Jack’s obviously every bit as tired and weary as you are. So it really isn’t likely that he’s going to leap on you with a merry cry. In all probability, the rotten man is already dead to the world—and happily snoring his head off.

  CHAPTER NINE

  SLOWLY opening the door, and inching silently into the bedroom, Laura almost sagged with relief to discover that she’d been quite right. While Jack wasn’t actually snoring, it was obvious from the quiet, regular breathing of the figure lying with his back to her on the far side of the four-poster bed that he was indeed sound asleep.

  Grateful for the bright shaft of moonlight streaming in through the open window, which helped her to avoid stumbling into the furniture, Laura tiptoed across the thick carpet, before easing herself carefully into bed.

  The mattress was wonderfully soft and comfortable; there was a fragrant aroma of lavender from the lace-trimmed pillow, and as she nestled beneath the warmth of the goose-down quilt she could only be profoundly grateful that she hadn’t after all, in a fit of pique, opted for the cold discomfort of Jack’s car.

  As she was drifting quietly in that timeless space when one is neither awake nor yet asleep, it was some time before Laura became fully aware of the warm fingers gently sliding up and down over the soft silk covering her backbone. It was such a gentle, soothing touch that she was almost purring with contentment and pleasure before she realised that the hand had, somehow, slipped beneath the shirt and was now moving slowly over her bare skin.

  ‘Stop it, Jack!’ she mumbled sleepily. ‘You promised...you promised that there wouldn’t be any funny business.’

  ‘So I did. But, my darling one, if you think this is “funny”,’ he murmured softly in the darkness, ‘I don’t believe we’re talking the same language!’

  Whatever the language, it was proving almost impossible to ignore his sensual, erotic caress as his fingers slid over her slim waist and slowly...so slowly...up towards the curve of her full breasts.

  ‘Besides, how can I possibly go to sleep with your lovely body lying so temptingly beside me?’ he breathed, pulling her close to him.
‘I want to make love to you, sweetheart,’ he added in a low, throbbing whisper which sent her pulses racing out of control. ‘So there’s no need to yell or scream blue murder. Because I truly love you, Laura, with all my heart.’

  ‘Who’s screaming?’ she gasped, trembling with excitement as he began brushing his fingers enticingly over her hard, swollen nipples. ‘Oh, Jack—do you really mean it? Do you truly love me?’

  ‘Really, truly—and very dearly,’ he murmured softly as he turned her around to face him, swiftly undoing the buttons of the silk shirt before covering her trembling limbs with his hard, naked body. ‘I’ve been nearly out of my mind at times, wanting you so much,’ he added with a muffled groan, burying his face in her soft breasts.

  She shuddered uncontrollably at the hoarse sound of his voice, the touch of his lips on her skin sending tremors of delight shivering through every fibre of her being. Free at last of all constraints, she relished the firmness of his body, the hard muscles of his thighs and the strength of the arms clasping her so tightly to him. She had never felt more vibrantly alive, the cool night air from the open window gently fanning their two naked figures as they became caught up in a sudden whirlwind of overwhelming desire.

  There was nothing gentle or restrained about their lovemaking. So many months had gone by, with neither of them being able to fully express their powerfully strong, sexual need of one another, that they now seemed gripped by a raw, savagely untamed hunger, sheer lust and passion exploding like atomic fusion as their two bodies merged in a fiercely wild, ecstatic peak of emotional frenzy.

  ‘Oh, sweetheart—I’m sorry,’ he muttered as they lay drowsily replete in each other’s arms. ‘I’m afraid I was far too greedy just now, but it’s been such a long time since we made love.’

  ‘Well...I’m not exactly complaining!’ she murmured, feeling as though she was drifting on a tideless ocean of languid contentment. ‘In fact, I’ll definitely give you a straight A for effort,’ she teased.

  ‘Well, in that case, maybe we ought to try for alpha-plus?’ he drawled softly, leaning over to trail his lips down over her throat and breasts.

  ‘For heaven’s sake, Jack! Not again...’ she gasped, amazed to feel the pulsating, hot excitement beginning to ripple through her once more.

  ‘Is that a statement—or a question?’

  She was breathless with desire, her heart racing and pounding as his mouth moved slowly down over her quivering body, his tongue exploring every secret curve and crevice, until she was once more moaning helplessly, every nerve-end vibrating with the erotic touch of his lips.

  ‘It’s definitely not...not a question!’ she managed to croak huskily, before swiftly sinking beneath a rushing tide of excitement and the deep, pulsating need to yield to the possession of his powerfully exciting body. Panting for release from the ever-increasing tension which seemed to fill her whole being, she eagerly welcomed the strong, thrusting force of his velvet hardness, their hearts thudding and pounding in unison, until they climaxed together in an explosion of overwhelming passion.

  Living in the middle of London, Laura was unused to being woken by a dawn chorus of birds outside her window. She slowly opened her eyes. Noting that the pale grey, early morning light was already stealing into the room, she languorously stretched her body, relishing the comforting weight of Jack’s arm lying across her waist.

  Blinking hazily up at the pleated silk covering the top of the four-poster bed, she smiled as her mind filled with memories of last night and her own totally abandoned response to Jack’s lovemaking. He must have been disturbed by her movement of remembered pleasure, as his arm tightened to pull her towards his hard body, and he sleepily grunted with satisfaction at the close proximity of her warm flesh to his own.

  When she opened her eyes again, Laura discovered that she was now alone in the bed, only the rumpled condition of the cool linen sheet providing evidence that Jack had spent the night beside her. For some reason, her head was now feeling extraordinarily thick and heavy, and as she struggled to think where he could be she heard a small, rustling sound on the other side of the room.

  ‘Jack...?’ she muttered, quickly sitting up in bed—and then equally quickly wished that she hadn’t. ‘My head!’ she groaned softly, feeling as if someone was banging away in her brain with a large, heavy sledgehammer.

  Oh, Lord! She must have drunk far too much wine last night, Laura told herself, desperately wishing that she hadn’t been such a fool. Placing a trembling hand on her aching forehead, she peered across the room at Jack’s tall figure, now clothed in a dark silk dressing gown. He was standing with his back to her and it seemed as though he was busy rifling through her handbag.

  Struggling to make sense of the scene in front of her, Laura’s painful head couldn’t seem to cope with the sudden flood of questions. Was that really her handbag? If so, what could he possibly want from it? Jack must have a perfectly good address book of his own. So why...why did he have her large business Filofax in his hand?

  ‘What on earth are you doing?’ she demanded, wincing at the shrill sound of her voice, which seemed to be reverberating loudly in her head. But when he gave a startled, guilty-looking jump of surprise at her words Laura suddenly realised just what he’d been up to.

  ‘I... I don’t believe it!’ she cried, desperately trying to ignore the pounding agony in her head as she jumped out of bed, stumbling across the floor to seize the Filofax from his hands. ‘How could you do such a thing?’

  ‘Do what?’ He frowned down at her. ‘I was only looking for my—’

  ‘We both know what you were looking for—you swine!’ she cried. ‘You didn’t mean any of that “I love you” business last night. It was just a bit of flannel to lull me into a false sense of security. Right?’

  ‘For God’s sake, keep your voice down,’ he muttered as her raucous tones seemed to echo around the room. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  ‘I’m talking about you helping yourself to my business Filofax,’ she hissed savagely. ‘You warned me last night that you might have a go at stealing my clients. Only I—what a fool!—I thought you were only joking.’

  ‘Of course I was,’ he snapped.

  ‘Oh, yeah?’ She gave a high-pitched, cynical laugh as she waved the black leather book in front of his face. ‘So, what was this doing in your hand? As far as I’m concerned, what we’ve got here is serious industrial espionage—and I’m not going to let you get away with it!’

  He stared at her in astonishment for a moment, before giving a snort of angry laughter. ‘Don’t be such a damn fool, Laura,’ he ground out curtly. ‘To claim that I’m the slightest bit interested in any of your clients is nothing but absolute rubbish.’

  ‘Rubbish?’ she yelled, quickly grabbing her clothes and handbag then dashing towards the bathroom. ‘I should have known not to trust you, since our whole relationship has been nothing more than one...one large heap of garbage!’

  ‘Stop this nonsense and come back here—at once!’ he growled, moving menacingly towards her.

  ‘Go away! I’ll never, ever trust you again,’ she cried, before slamming the door in his face and driving the bolt home with a heavy thud.

  Some considerable time later, and by now heartily sick of being virtually a prisoner in the small bathroom, Laura realised that she’d got herself into a really bad fix.

  When she’d first raced in here, full of righteous wrath and indignation, she hadn’t actually given any thought to what Jack was likely to do. If she’d had time to think about it, she might have assumed that after waiting for her to come out he’d get fed up and go downstairs to have his breakfast. Which would, of course, have given her an opportunity to slip out of the bathroom, grab her coat and shoes—and somehow make her way back to London.

  Unfortunately, however, while the theory behind that scenario was perfectly sensible, in practice it didn’t seem to be working out like that at all.

  Once she’d found herself in
the bathroom, it had obviously made sense to have a long, hot, bath—the noise of the water conveniently drowning her copious sobs—and to help herself to some aspirins from a small bottle on one of the shelves. Now, half an hour later, thanks to the hot bath and the aspirins, she was feeling in far better shape, and able to evaluate the position in which she found herself.

  Unfortunately, once she’d got rid of the thumping headache and was able to think in a positive, logical manner, it was all Laura could do not to groan out loud. Bitterly vowing never to touch another drop of alcohol as long as she lived wasn’t any help, either. Not when she was now having to face the really ghastly, horrible realisation that she might well have made an almighty fool of herself.

  Yes, her Filofax really had been in Jack’s hand. She had no doubt about that. But it was no good trying to fool herself. Even when she’d been actively promoting her new business, Laura had known that it would be many, many years before she was able to attract the same high quality of actors and the enormous financial turnover earned by Jack’s firm. So, if he hadn’t been after her list of clients, what on earth had he been doing?

  The answer wasn’t long in coming.

  ‘All right, you hellcat...!’ Jack’s voice rasped angrily from the other side of the door. ‘My patience has finally run out. If you haven’t worked out that I was merely holding your Filofax while looking for my car keys—which I threw across to you on the bed earlier last night—then you must be a total idiot!’

  Oh, no! Sitting slumped on the bathroom stool, Laura buried her burning face in her hands. He was right. She really had been a complete and utter fool. But...but how could she possibly go back out there and face him? It simply wasn’t possible. Not after all the really stupid, dreadful things she’d said.

  However, if she’d hoped that he would just go away and leave her to quietly wallow in abject misery, she was doomed to disappointment.