Trust in Tomorrow

by Carole Mortimer

  She turned sharply at the softly spoken question, Lucas having discarded the jacket to his suit, the white shirt partly unbuttoned down his chest, his dark hair slightly ruffled, as if he had been running his fingers through it. ‘Er—yes,’ she answered him, unsure of his mood. ‘She went through several minutes ago.’

  ‘Damn,’ he muttered. ‘Oh well, I may as well apologise to you now and talk to Camilla in the morning.’

  ‘A… apologise?’ she echoed dazedly.

  His mouth twisted. ‘Don’t look so surprised, I am capable of admitting it when I’m in the wrong.’

  And she and Camilla had just decided he wasn’t! Some of what she was thinking must have shown in her face because Lucas’s mouth tightened angrily.

  ‘You obviously disagree,’ he rasped.

  ‘No, I—’

  ‘I couldn’t think of any other way than at your invitation Anderson could have got in here. I had no idea Camilla would be so stupid—’

  ‘You’re spoiling the apology now,’ she rebuked.

  ‘All right,’ he sighed. ‘So gullible as to be taken in by the apparent innocence of a member of the press.’

  ‘But John is innocent,’ she protested. ‘He only wanted to apologise for the story that appeared in the newspaper, it was taken out of his hands.’

  ‘He told you that?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And you believed him?’

  She blushed at his derision. ‘Yes, I believed him!’

  ‘Enough to reveal a few more family confidences?’ Lucas scorned.

  ‘God, why are you such an arrogant—’

  ‘Yes?’ he prompted tautly as she halted abruptly.

  ‘Bastard,’ she finished forcefully, goaded beyond endurance.

  His mouth twisted. ‘I think my parents might have something to say about that,’ he derided.

  ‘From the sound of it your parents have already had too much say in your life!’

  Lucas looked at her probingly. ‘And just what do you mean by that?’

  ‘Camilla told me you didn’t want to be a lawyer at all,’ she challenged. ‘That you can write.’

  ‘She had no right—’

  ‘She knows I love you.’

  ‘God, do you tell everyone you talk to?’ he demanded irritably. ‘Did you tell Anderson too?’ he frowned.

  ‘No—’

  ‘Thank God you had that much sense at least!’

  ‘You’ve misjudged him as you misjudge everyone else,’ she snapped agitatedly. ‘He went to the newspaper with that story, yes, but they didn’t print what he wrote. It was their idea to make it look as if our living together was more than it was.’

  Lucas shook his head pityingly. ‘You’re very naive.’

  ‘And you’re very pig-headed!’

  ‘Careful, Chelsea, your compliments might go to my head,’ he derided.

  She sighed as she realised how heated their argument was becoming. ‘Why do you have to be so suspicious of everyone?’

  ‘It comes along with the job.’

  ‘A job you hate!’

  ‘I don’t hate it at all, Chelsea,’ he told her grimly. ‘Without being immodest, I know I’m good at it, and no one can hate something they’re good at.’

  ‘But what did you sacrifice to be good at it?’ she persisted. ‘If you can write then that’s what you should be doing.’

  ‘Who says I can write,’ he dismissed abruptly.

  ‘Camilla does. And so do I,’ she added challengingly.

  Lucas gave her a pitying look. ‘You’ve never seen any of my work.’

  ‘I know you,’ she told him softly. ‘And I know you would never contemplate doing something you aren’t good at.’

  ‘You really are infatuated, aren’t you,’ he scorned dismissively.

  ‘I’m in love,’ she corrected quietly. ‘And I have an idea,’ she added eagerly.

  ‘Yes?’ he prompted warily.

  ‘Don’t look so worried,’ she smiled at his expression. ‘You’re convinced that John only came here today to get another story, right?’

  ‘Right,’ he nodded.

  ‘Which means we should be on the front page of a newspaper again tomorrow?’

  ‘Probably,’ he said slowly.

  ‘There’s no probably about it,’ she insisted impatiently. ‘If John is the hardened reporter you say he is then he’ll certainly make a story about Camilla being here with us now. And if he does then you are right, I am a naive fool.’

  ‘And if he doesn’t?’ Lucas prompted warily.

  ‘You let me see some of your writing,’ she announced happily, pleased with her plan.

  ‘No!’

  ‘Why not?’ she pleaded.

  ‘Because I don’t intend leaving myself open to your ridicule,’ he rasped. ‘You have no qualifications to say if my work is good or bad.’

  At least he had admitted that he still had some of his work! ‘I’m an avid reader, surely that qualifies me?’

  ‘I write murder-mysteries—’

  ‘My favourite,’ she said with relish.

  ‘Chelsea—’

  ‘What have you really got to lose, Lucas?’ she persisted forcefully. ‘I thought you were so confident you would win?’ she taunted.

  ‘I will,’ he nodded grimly.

  ‘Then make the deal,’ Chelsea prompted.

  ‘I haven’t written anything in years—’

  ‘That’s okay,’ she dismissed this excuse. ‘I enjoy period murder-mysteries most of all!’

  ‘You little—’

  ‘You’re the one that keeps going on about the age difference,’ she reminded innocently.

  Lucas heaved a defeated sigh. ‘All right, it’s a deal. As you say, I’m going to win anyway.’

  * * *

  She was waiting for him when he arrived home from work the next evening, her hands held out expectantly as he scowled at her. John hadn’t let her down, not a single word had been printed about them, in any newspaper. And Lucas had seen the newspapers before he left for work that morning, she had checked with Mrs Harvey, so he had had all day to resign himself to the fact that she had won the deal, that he had to hand over one of his manuscripts this evening for her to read.

  ‘Can’t you at least wait until after dinner?’ he glowered at her beaming face.

  ‘I’ll eat later,’ she dismissed.

  He gave an irritated sigh. ‘I’m sure I wouldn’t have been so—so gleeful if I’d won!’

  She grinned. ‘You would have been impossible! Go get the manuscript, Lucas,’ she encouraged.

  ‘Oh to hell with it!’ He turned on his heel and left the room, returning minutes later with a folder in his hands. ‘Just don’t expect too much.’ He strode across the room to pour himself a drink. ‘Where’s Camilla?’

  ‘Visiting an old schoolfriend,’ she answered in a preoccupied voice, itching to read the manuscript he had guarded so possessively.

  ‘Heather Manning,’ he guessed correctly. ‘She always goes to see her when she’s troubled.’

  Chelsea frowned. ‘Have you found out what’s bothering her yet; she won’t talk to me about it.’

  He shrugged dismissively. ‘It’s really none of our business, is it,’ he told her cuttingly.

  She flushed. ‘I’ll see you later,’ she told him tightly.

  ‘Don’t rush,’ he called after her mockingly.

  She had no intention of rushing, but from the first page of the neatly typed manuscript she was captivated by the intricacies of the characters Lucas had masterminded, each new twist to the story coming as a complete surprise to her.

  After two engrossed hours she had reached the last grippingly exciting page, gasping as she finally discovered who the murderer was, and the reasons behind his actions. It was a fantastic story, was surely destined for the bestseller list, could even be made into a movie. Then why hadn’t Lucas sent it to a publisher as he obviously should have done, he couldn’t be blind to his own talent?

&nb
sp; He looked up from the newspaper he was reading, his mouth twisting derisively at her frowning expression. ‘That bad, hm?’

  ‘It’s—it’s—’

  ‘Speechless, hm?’ he mocked hardly, standing up to take the manuscript from her reluctant fingers.

  He really didn’t know how good he was! ‘It’s so well written that if you don’t send it to a publisher then I’ll sneak into your bedroom in the middle of the night and send it to them myself!’ she told him fervently.

  ‘Believe me,’ he taunted. ‘If you sneaked into my bedroom in the middle of the night the manuscript wouldn’t be the only thing you would get!’

  She knew his mockery hid pleasure in her praise, that although he appeared very self-confident that he needed it as much as the next man. ‘Promise?’ she said huskily.

  He smiled dismissively. ‘I’m glad you enjoyed the story, Chelsea, but it’s very amateurish—’

  ‘It’s fantastic!’

  ‘Says you,’ he said condescendingly.

  ‘What is it with you?’ she flared angrily. ‘Why can’t you take and accept praise? A psychiatrist would have great fun in your head!’

  ‘A psychiatrist?’ Lucas thundered predictably. ‘I can assure you I don’t have a problem—’

  ‘Oh yes you do,’ she insisted goadingly.

  Lucas’s eyes narrowed at the air of expectancy that surrounded her. ‘What are you up to now?’ he asked slowly.

  She grimaced her disappointment. ‘Well, in all the good books this should be the point where you get angry enough with me to forcefully make love to me!’

  ‘Did it happen in mine?’

  ‘No…’

  ‘Then it can’t be a good book, can it?’ he taunted triumphantly.

  Chelsea sighed at his manipulation of the conversation. ‘Then you aren’t going to make love to me?’

  ‘I don’t think that would be a good idea—’

  ‘What does your body say?’

  ‘My body…?’

  ‘Mm, what does it say?’

  He frowned. ‘My body doesn’t usually talk to me,’ he drawled mockingly, evading a direct answer.

  She gave an impatient sigh. ‘I suppose I could always get mad enough to forcefully make love to you,’ she muttered.

  Lucas grinned at the idea. ‘You could try.’

  ‘I could?’

  His mouth quirked. ‘I said you could try, Chelsea,’ he taunted. ‘You won’t succeed. Unfortunately, for you, you’re going to need my co-operation.’

  ‘And you won’t give it?’ she arched light brows.

  ‘No,’ he confirmed tightly, his amusement over the situation fading at the light of challenge in her eyes.

  ‘Go and put your manuscript away and then come back here,’ she instructed determinedly.

  ‘Chelsea—’

  ‘Unless you’re scared to?’ she challenged.

  ‘Don’t play these games with me, Chelsea,’ he warned.

  ‘Why not?’ she dismissed. ‘You’re so confident I’m going to be wrong—again,’ she added pointedly.

  His mouth tightened at the challenge in her tone. ‘I’ll be back in a few minutes.’

  Chelsea took advantage of his absence to lower the lighting and turn on the flame to the artificially realistic fire. If she were going to try and seduce him she may as well set the scene! She also threw the cushions off the sofa on to the floor, she was in the process of pouring them both a glass of wine when Lucas came back into the room. His eyes narrowed warily as he took in the scene she had deliberately created.

  ‘This is the way it’s done, isn’t it?’ She made herself comfortable on the cushions, holding up his glass of wine invitingly. ‘I watch a lot of movies,’ she explained smilingly.

  ‘The wrong sort, by the look of this,’ Lucas muttered as he sank down next to her on the cushions, taking the glass of wine, careful not to touch her as he did so. ‘You forgot something. Music,’ he reminded at her questioning look. ‘There’s always romantic music in the background during scenes like these in films.’

  ‘I’d prefer it if we made our own.’ She took the glass out of his hand and put it down on the table with her own.

  ‘If I’d used that line you would have accused me of being corny,’ he teased.

  She shook her head. ‘If you had used that line I would have fallen straight into your arms. As it is,’ she draped herself decorously across his knees, her arms up about his neck as she slowly pulled him down to her, ‘I intend having you fall into mine.’

  His arms moved to support her as she brought their lips into contact, moving her mouth caressingly against his. His lips remained coldly unmoving, his arms loose about her.

  Chelsea increased her efforts to gain a response from him, moving the tip of her tongue against those cool lips, feeling a momentary tension in his body before he slowly relaxed again. That uncontrollable response to her gave her hope, and her hands moved slowly to the buttons of his shirt.

  ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ Lucas rasped, his expression grim.

  She looked at him with widely innocent eyes. ‘If I were the man then this is what he would be doing.’ She continued to unbutton his shirt.

  ‘That’s enough!’ His hand clamped over hers as she moved to touch him beneath the silk of his shirt. ‘This has gone far enough,’ he rasped. ‘It should never have begun.’ He put Chelsea away from him so that she lay back among the cushions, her mouth red and pouting, her breasts thrusting against the softness of her blouse. It was here that Lucas’s gaze locked. ‘Do you have anything on under that?’

  Puzzlement flickered in her eyes. ‘Just a camisole. A brown lace one,’ she added breathlessly as his eyes suddenly glowed like twin black coals.

  He swallowed hard before slowly following her down among the cushions. ‘Chelsea…!’

  Her arms welcomed him as he lay above her, her lips parted to meet the heat of his, her response instantaneous as his tongue thrust hotly into her mouth, meeting that thrust with some of her own, hearing his groan low in his throat.

  His fingers were much more expert on the buttons of her blouse than hers had been on his shirt, the garment stripped from her body within seconds, his eyes very dark on the revealing camisole and the twin peaks beneath it.

  ‘Kiss me, Lucas!’ she groaned achingly.

  His mouth didn’t return to hers as she pleaded for him to do, but sucked a nipple through the silky material, his tongue a soft sensuous rasp against the silk. Her other nipple instantly swelled for the same loving touch, not disappointed as he left the material clinging damply to the pampered breast to lovingly caress the neglected one.

  Heat surged through her body at the eroticism of the caress, gasping her aching pleasure as he took the nipple fully into the warm cavern of his mouth, pulling on it with a pleasure-pain that made her fingers dig like tallons into the tautness of his back.

  Her expression was bereft as he moved up and away from her, throwing the cushions haphazardly back on to the sofa. ‘Lucas, please…!’ she groaned her need in the face of his rejection. ‘Please!’

  He bent to sweep her up into his arms, pausing to fiercely claim her passion-swollen lips. ‘I am going to please you, my love,’ he rasped. ‘You’re going to get your wish. But not here on the floor where Camilla could walk in on us at any moment. We’re going to my bedroom.’

  ‘I love you,’ she groaned.

  He made no reply to the admission, moving powerfully to his bedroom, pulling back the covers to lay her down on the sheet, his gaze never leaving hers as he hurriedly stripped the clothes from his body. Chelsea watched him with languorous eyes, trembling with longing once he stood naked in front of her, groaning as she imagined the beauty of his body joined with her own.

  He removed her own clothes at a much more leisurely pace, not leaving an inch of her flesh untouched by the warm moisture of his mouth as he did so, Chelsea burning with a passion that threatened to erupt out of control at any moment, although Lucas seem
ed to know that too, stopping before she could topple over the edge into sensual oblivion.

  ‘Will you touch me?’ he rasped throatily. ‘Let me know the touch of your soft milky-white hands?’

  She did look very pale against his darker skin, loving the feel of his hard flesh, guided by instinct in her lack of experience, satisfied with her effort as Lucas gasped his own spiralling pleasure, his body tense as he fought for control.

  Finally he moved to pin her beneath him on the bed, his eyes full of flames as he gazed down at her wanton beauty. ‘Do you trust me?’ he asked raggedly.

  ‘I love you,’ she told him, as if that said everything.

  ‘I’ll try not to hurt you,’ he promised as he lay between her parted thighs, moving in erotic rhythm against her as his mouth claimed hers but his thrusting thighs didn’t.

  Chelsea could feel herself becoming increasingly moist for him as the hardness of his desire continued to move against her, promising and tempting and yet denying her that final possession that she craved.

  ‘Please, Lucas,’ she pleaded on a sob when she could stand no more of this torture. ‘Please now!’

  ‘Not yet,’ he shook his head. ‘I don’t want to hurt you.’

  ‘You won’t,’ she begged, in the grip of a mindless desire.

  Still he didn’t possess her, kissing her deeply, penetratingly, with a promise of things to come.

  Chelsea knew as he claimed her that he had been right to prolong this moment for as long as possible, still feeling a little pain as he moved surely inside her, although it was soon forgotten as his body moved in hers in a quickly rising rhythm.

  As she gasped her fiery release she felt Lucas tense and harden, groaning his own shuddering release as he buried his face in her throat.

  ‘I love you, Lucas. I love you,’ she told him over and over again, a long time returning from that pleasure-filled plateau he had taken her to.

  His breathing was a long time steadying, still erratic as he finally leant on his elbows to look down at her. ‘I wish I could tell you the same thing,’ he rasped. ‘But I don’t know what I feel for you.’ He shook his head. ‘I do know I could become physically enthralled by you; what happened between us just now was the most incredibly earth-shattering experience of my entire life!’