Engaged to Jarrod Stone

by Carole Mortimer

  ‘He’s just a man.’ She shrugged. ‘Like any other, he needs a woman.’ Often in the plural, she could have added. He would obviously still be seeing Mrs Howard even while determined to make Brooke want to marry him.

  Jean raised a questioning eyebrow. ‘You sound very—well, a bit fed up, actually. Aren’t you really excited about marrying Mr Stone? I know I would be.’

  She wouldn’t be marrying him if she had her way—no matter how much she really wanted to. With his experience of women he would soon realise that she was in love with him, probably believing that she would be gullible enough to put up with his affairs. Well, she wouldn’t marry him and give him that power over her, and she wouldn’t become his wife to hide his affair with another woman either.

  She smiled wanly. ‘Sorry, Jean. Late nights don’t agree with me.’

  Jean grimaced. ‘Me neither. But it was such a lovely surprise for you. Mr Stone was—’

  She broke off, and turning in the direction of her gaze Brooke saw the reason why. Jarrod had just stepped out of his private lift and was walking with purposeful strides over to the reception desk.

  Brooke blushed under the force of his unflinching stare, unconsciously noting how attractive he looked in his dark business suit. She fidgeted nervously as she waited for him to reach her desk, looking impatiently at the diamond ring he forced her to wear as proof of his possession.

  As if he had seen that look he deliberately lifted up the hand containing his ring, his eyes glittering with barely suppressed humour as he watched her reaction. She steeled herself to make none and saw his amusement deepen. His manner gave her the feeling of a very small mouse being tormented by a cruel feline.

  ‘Brooke darling,’ he murmured softly, his hold on her hand not loosening, ‘I’m going to be out the rest of the day.’

  She wanted to ask what that had to do with her, but knew he wouldn’t let her get away with that. ‘Yes?’ she queried huskily, all the time conscious of his thumb slowly caressing the palm of her hand.

  ‘So I brought your car in today—as you were too tired to drive me home last night,’ he added mockingly. ‘And I’ll be using it to go to my business appointment.’ His mouth tightened as he saw the disbelieving look in her eyes that it was a business meeting and her hand was instantly set free. ‘I just want to reassure you that I’ll be around at eight-thirty and you can have your car back then.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She didn’t want his wretched car! And she didn’t want to see him tonight either, didn’t want him to destroy her peace of mind any more than he already had.

  He bent forward and kissed her lingeringly on her parted lips. It wasn’t a caress he hurried over, and by the time he raised his head Brooke was breathless—with embarrassment and excitement.

  She fumed up at him silently, her eyes deep violet pools of frustrated anger. How dared he! How dared he kiss her here in full view of anyone who cared to look! And plenty of people were doing just that!

  ‘Just to keep me going until tonight, darling,’ he murmured throatily, taunting her with the steely glint in his eyes. He straightened, turning to smile at the gaping Jean. ‘Good morning,’ he grinned at her. ‘No ill effects from last night, I hope?’

  Jean glowed. ‘No, thank you, Mr Stone. I had a lovely time.’

  ‘Good.’ He nodded to them both. ‘Goodbye for now, then, ladies. I’ll see you later, Brooke,’ he added with a warmth that almost made her cringe.

  She didn’t answer him, pretending an interest in the person making enquiries at her desk. The poor man had to repeat himself three times before she heard what he was trying to ask her. She finally sent him off quite happily to the fifth floor.

  She hardly dared turn and look at Jean once they were restored to peace and quiet again, but she knew that inevitably she had to. She sighed. ‘Okay, Jean, you’re right, he is very attractive. But he—well, he unnerves me, especially here at work.’

  Jean grinned. ‘He would unnerve me too if he kissed me like that.’

  Brooke blushed anew. ‘Don’t tease, Jean. I’m embarrassed enough already.’

  This time her friend took the hint and changed the subject, talking about things that were much less personal to Brooke.

  By eight-fifteen that evening she had worked herself up into a great state of nerves. His display in reception today had more than shown her that he meant to carry out his threat to make her want him enough to marry him.

  But she already did! She wanted him now, he had no need to make her want him any more. How was she supposed to cope with the brand of sensual attraction he exuded with every pore of his body? She had the feeling she wasn’t going to be able to—and he knew it.

  Jarrod arrived at exactly eight-thirty, walking into her flat before holding out the car keys to her. ‘Yours,’ he said with a grin.

  Brooke weighed the keys in her hand. ‘I would rather not if you don’t mind.’

  He ignored her words and settled himself comfortably on the sofa. He was dressed more casually than she had ever seen him before, and this casualness gave their relationship an intimacy she had been determined to avoid. He wore tan leather boots, cream corduroy trousers that moulded to the firm length of his thighs, a cream silk shirt opened almost down to his waist, and a short brown leather jerkin. He looked very tall and very attractive, and her pulse raced just at the sight of him.

  She looked down at her own clothes, realising that her deliberate donning of denims and checked shirt had all been in vain. And she had the feeling that Jarrod had known exactly what she had been going to do, hence his own attire.

  ‘Have you had dinner?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, thank you. I don’t want it, Jarrod,’ she said firmly, unconsciously using his first name.

  ‘I’ve already eaten too.’

  ‘Jarrod!’ she glared at him. ‘You’re deliberately ignoring me.’

  Grey eyes raked over her with slow appraisal and she was blushing profusely by the time his gaze settled back on her face. ‘I’m not ignoring you, Brooke,’ he denied huskily. ‘The opposite, I would have thought.’

  ‘You know what I mean,’ she sighed. ‘I don’t want the car. It—it smacks too much like payment,’ she said defiantly.

  ‘Payment for what?’ he asked softly.

  ‘For—for—I don’t know what for!’ She gave him a furious look. ‘Yes, I do! It looks like payment for services rendered.’

  He gave a throaty chuckle, not angered as she had expected him to be, hoped he would be. If she angered him enough there was always the chance that he might walk out. But there didn’t appear to be much anger about him as he smiled up at her, sitting forward to remove his jacket.

  Jarrod turned back the cuffs of his shirt to just below his elbows. ‘It’s very hot tonight,’ he offered by way of explanation. ‘And I haven’t noticed you providing much of a service,’ he added tauntingly.

  Brooke’s cheeks flamed fiery red; the situation, as always, had backfired on her. ‘Perhaps you like to pay in advance,’ she returned bitchily.

  ‘Not usually,’ he replied thoughtfully. ‘You could get let down that way. You know, a case of take the money and run.’

  ‘Then take back your damned car!’

  ‘It isn’t mine. It was bought in your name and is registered to you.’

  She turned away. ‘You don’t understand—or you don’t want to. I’m an ordinary working girl—okay, I accept that for the moment I’m involved in your life, but when that’s over I’m not even going to be able to afford the insurance on the car, let alone the weekly petrol.’

  ‘It’s never going to be over between us, Brooke. You’re mine and before long you’re going to admit it to me.’

  ‘On bended knees,’ she scorned.

  He nodded. ‘If necessary.’

  ‘Never!’

  Jarrod gave a knowing smile. ‘Never is a long, long time, Brooke darling. And I can be quite determined when I make up my mind to do something. Ask any of my business colleagues.’r />
  ‘Oh, I don’t need to do that, I already know how domineering you can be.’

  ‘Then why don’t you sit down and relax?’ he invited huskily, patting the sofa beside him.

  Brooke moved away jerkily. ‘Why don’t you go and see Selina Howard? I’m sure she would be overjoyed to see you.’

  ‘I doubt it,’ he said dryly. ‘She and Charles always spend their wedding anniversary together. I wouldn’t like to interrupt.’

  ‘Oh.’

  He was openly laughing at her now. ‘Sit down, Brooke,’ he repeated. ‘No, not over there,’ he said as she went to sit in one of the armchairs. ‘Over, here, next to me.’

  ‘No, thank you,’ she answered primly. ‘What are you planning to do this evening?’

  ‘Nothing, absolutely nothing.’ Jarrod leant back against the sofa, legs splayed out in front of him. ‘Why, what did you have in mind?’

  ‘Nothing. But—but surely you don’t intend just spending the evening here with me?’

  ‘And the night too, if you would let me.’

  ‘I won’t!

  ‘I didn’t think so. Put some music on, hmm?’

  She moved to the record cabinet. ‘What sort of music do you like?’

  ‘Something romantic,’ he murmured.

  ‘R—romantic?’

  ‘Mm,’ he said throatily. ‘Then you can come and sit next to me and I’ll whisper sweet nothings in your shell-like ear.’

  Brooke gave him a furious look for his mockery, deliberately choosing one of Leo Sayer’s L.P.s that was anything but romantic. She sat down with a smile of satisfaction, enjoying the music but knowing it didn’t meet Jarrod’s approval.

  When it moved on to the second number Jarrod stood up and turned the record off. ‘Not that I don’t like Leo Sayer, but those sort of songs don’t exactly stir the senses.’

  ‘They weren’t meant to,’ she said determinedly.

  ‘That’s what I thought.’ He flicked through the extensive record collection, music of all kinds being Brooke’s weakness. ‘Barry Manilow or Johnny Mathis?’

  ‘Johnny Mathis, please,’ she answered instantly. ‘Some of Barry Manilow’s tend to be a little sad.’

  Instead of going back to the sofa after putting on the requested record he came to sit on the arm of her chair. ‘We have a lot of the same tastes in music,’ he murmured softly.

  Brooke obstinately looked away from him, although she could see his muscular thigh out of the corner of her eye. ‘That’s about all we do have in common,’ she told him curtly, determined not to be moved by his closeness.

  But how could she not be when just to look at him aroused her! He was so handsome, so dynamic. But she must remember that even though he expressed a wish to make love to her, would even go to the length of marrying her to get what he wanted, all the time he was having an affair with a married woman, an affair that wouldn’t stop in the event of his own marriage.

  These thoughts hardened her resolve not to be affected by his closeness, by the all male smell of him. It was so destructive just being near him like this!

  His hand moved to touch one of her hot cheeks, the thumb moving caressingly over her soft creamy skin. ‘I think we have more than that in common,’ he said softly, his grey eyes never leaving her averted face. ‘And we could have more if you would just let it happen. Have you always had these inhibitions?’

  Her gaze swung angrily to his taunting face, only to look hurriedly away again at the warmth in his eyes. He was seducing her with a look and she couldn’t stand it. Before he could stop her she had moved out of the chair and stood a few feet away watching him warily.

  ‘I don’t have inhibitions at all. You just—you just—’

  ‘Yes?’ He relaxed back in the chair she had so recently vacated.

  ‘I don’t want to have an affair!’

  ‘Neither do I, not unless it’s going to lead to marriage.’ Jarrod sighed. ‘Sit down again, Brooke. I promise to stay right here. We’ll talk, nothing else.’

  ‘What do we have to talk about?’

  He shrugged. ‘You can tell me more about your childhood. This aunt of yours—what was she like, besides her desire to hit out at a child?’

  Off the subject of marriage, Brooke relaxed slightly, moving to the sofa to sit down. ‘She was a lot older than my mother, there were fifteen years’ difference in their ages.’

  ‘And this aunt never married?’

  ‘No, but then I could have been partly responsible for that. The prospect of a five-year-old child to look after would daunt a lot of men.’

  Jarrod shook his head. ‘Your aunt would already have been fortyish when she took you into her care, plenty of time to marry if she’d wanted to.’

  ‘No—you see, she had to look after my mother for several years too.’

  ‘Ah, I see.’

  ‘Do you have to say it like that?’ she asked resentfully.

  He raised his eyebrows. ‘Sorry. It just seemed to me—’

  ‘I’m well aware of what it seemed to you. But Aunt Emma always said she didn’t want to marry.’

  ‘She didn’t like men,’ he stated dryly.

  ‘Not my father, anyway.’

  His eyes quickened with interest. ‘Are you sure? How old was your father when he died?’

  ‘He was ten years older than my mother, so that would make him thirty-five.’ Her brow creased in puzzlement. ‘What are you implying?’

  ‘Only that the emotion your aunt felt towards your father might not have been dislike.’

  ‘You’re surely not trying to say that Aunt Emma fancied my father?’ Brooke’s horror was evident in her face.

  ‘Is that so hard to believe?’

  ‘It’s disgusting!’

  ‘What’s so disgusting about a healthy woman feeling attracted to a handsome man?’

  ‘But the man was my father, and he was married to Aunt Emma’s sister!’

  He shrugged. ‘That doesn’t mean she couldn’t fall in love with him.’

  Brooke stood up to pace the room. ‘I can’t believe it—She couldn’t—But it—’ He was right! She knew with startling clarity that he had guessed the reason for her aunt’s hatred and jealousy of her sister’s happiness. All these years she had wondered at her aunt’s resentment of her, and within a few days of knowing her Jarrod had discovered that reason.

  ‘I’m right, aren’t I?’ he asked gently.

  ‘Yes,’ she choked, ‘I think you are.’

  He moved quickly as he saw her distress, sitting down beside her on the sofa and pulling her into his arms. ‘Hey,’ he crooned softly into her hair. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you.’

  ‘It was—was just such a shock,’ she mumbled against his chest. ‘I didn’t mean to be emotional about it.’

  ‘I shouldn’t have surprised it on you like that.’ He lifted her chin. ‘I could be wrong, you know.’

  ‘No, you aren’t,’ she sniffed inelegantly. ‘I should have realised before. It just never occurred to me.’

  ‘You would have to have a devious mind like mine to think of it,’ he murmured softly, his mouth only inches away from her own. ‘Oh, Brooke, Brooke, kiss me …’

  ‘Jarrod …’ She kissed him like never before, clinging to him in complete abandonment. What did all the fighting and arguing matter when she could be in his arms like this?

  He took her lips in slow drugging kisses that racked her body into sensuous pleasure, lowering her back against the length of the sofa before lying at her side.

  Their caresses became fevered and she raised not one word of protest as he unbuttoned her shirt with sure quick movements, pushing aside the thin material to bury his face in her creamy skin.

  ‘God, Brooke,’ he groaned raggedly, ‘don’t you ever wear a bra?’ His voice thickened with desire as he took the tip of one hardened nipple into his mouth, arousing her body to even greater heights.

  Her sharp intake of breath precluded her answer for several long pleasurable seconds. �
�I—er—I find them a cumbersome article of clothing,’ she said finally.

  Jarrod raised his dark head to look down at her partly naked body. ‘Well, it’s a sure fact you’re lovely enough not to need one.’ He caressed her with hands that seemed to burn where they touched. ‘God, you’re beautiful! So beautiful I’m almost afraid to touch you.’

  Her arms moved up over his shoulders, her hands entwining in the dark thickness of his hair. ‘Don’t be afraid, Jarrod,’ she invited. ‘I like your touch.’

  With a suddenness that took her completely by surprise he moved away from her to stand up, the passionate man of seconds earlier gone as if it had never been. Only the sight of her own nakedness remained to show her that it hadn’t all been a dream. She fastened her shirt with shaking fingers.

  ‘It’s getting late,’ he said abruptly. ‘I have to leave. Don’t bother to drive me home, I can get a taxi. I’ll see you some time tomorrow evening. Goodnight.’ He didn’t look at her again but slammed out of the flat.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  EVERY evening seemed to end the same way. They would talk for a while, listen to a few records, and then Brooke would somehow find herself in Jarrod’s arms. Each night she promised herself that this time it would be different, that she wouldn’t give in to the sensuous pressure of his mouth or the demand in his eyes, but each time she betrayed her resolve.

  Jarrod controlled these interludes in a way that was totally infuriating. He knew exactly when she had almost lost control of her senses, knew when she would deny him nothing—and that was the time he always broke up their embrace.

  Brooke knew that he purposefully used these frustrating tactics, that it was all part of his plan to bring her to her knees, and yet there was nothing she could do to stop it happening. As soon as he touched her she melted.

  But tonight she knew things were going to be different as soon as she opened the door to him, knew it by the elegant dinner suit he wore. He hadn’t said they were going out, so she didn’t think she was included in his dinner engagement. She was right.