Let him wait. She swallowed half the contents of her glass, to ease the tension out of her throat, then put it carefully down on the glass-topped table that fronted one of the twin cretonne-upholstered sofas.
Lifting her chin, she told him coldly, ‘For a supposedly intelligent man you get some lunatic ideas. I had a miscarriage and there are people who can verify that.’ She looked pointedly at the wall clock. ‘It’s time you were on your way.’
It was enough. She couldn’t say more. She couldn’t talk about the lost child. Even after all these years it still hurt too much. She turned to walk out of the room but his voice stopped her. ‘Say that again.’
Deliberately misinterpreting his brusque instruction, she reiterated tartly, ‘It’s time you were on your way. I know how desperate you are to leave. If you don’t go now you’ll miss the airbus.’
She willed him to go, to leave her, to set her free from the bonds of the past, the searing animal magnetism of the present. But he closed the space between them and asked her, ‘Have you seen the state of the sea? I wouldn’t ask anyone to put out in that. This isn’t the normal tropical downpour, over almost as soon as it started. It’s a full-blooded storm.’
The whine of the wind, the clatter of the rain—neither had registered since she’d entered the room. His presence took up too much space in her mind to allow room for anything else. And he was close enough now for her to see the texture of his skin, the sweep of the long lashes that veiled the glitter of his eyes.
He wasn’t leaving! A rogue shaft of pleasure threaded through the welter of apprehension that made her breath catch in her throat, her heart beat faster. If she’d had the sense to note the state of the weather she would have known the seas were too wild to make the crossing to San Antonio anything other than downright dangerous. And she wouldn’t have dressed this way!
Her wicked need to punish him might very well be her own undoing!
Desperately striving to keep any trace of panic out of her voice, she told him, ‘What a bore for you. I’ll leave you to contemplate your navel, then,’ and swung away, stingingly aware of the flirtatious flick of her skirts, the way the soft fabric swung then settled back seductively against her thighs.
‘Don’t play games with me, Georgia!’ His voice was soft, smoky-dark, but the hand that fastened on her shoulder, lean fingers biting the naked flesh, was steel-hard, inescapable. ‘Teasing games could land you in more trouble than you can handle.’ He swung her round to face him, their bodies almost touching, and the sexual tension made the air fizz as his eyes drifted from her parted lips, down the long, elegant line of her throat, down to the swelling curves of her breasts, the tell-tale hardening of her nipples that the soft clingy fabric did nothing to hide.
‘Or is that what you want?’ he asked thickly. ‘Is that exactly what you’re asking for?’ The tips of his fingers were moving gently over her silky skin, both hands touching now, caressing her shoulders, easing the narrow straps out of the way.
Georgia felt herself catch fire, recognised the aching, heated quiver that began deep inside her, spreading upwards and outwards until her whole body came alive with the wanting. She sucked in her breath, caught the dark glitter of his eyes, and knew he was going to kiss her.
And knew she couldn’t break free from the chains of desire that bound them together.
CHAPTER TEN
BUT he put her gently aside. She watched his eyes, saw the battle he fought with himself, saw him win. And put her knuckles against her mouth to stifle her cry of pain and rejection.
He was stronger than she. He could tear the chains asunder and set himself free.
Georgia would have walked out of the room if she’d been able to find the strength, but she barely had the power to stand. She sank slowly down on the end of the sofa, watching from beneath her long dark lashes as he reached for his glass and drained the contents.
Then she shuddered as he walked back towards her, her body reacting to him as it always had and always would. But he merely flicked on the table lamp at her side, so that she sat exposed in a pool of light while he leant against the long window in the dim, concealing shadows.
She wished she had his strength. Meeting him again had shown her that she wasn’t anywhere near as tough as she’d thought she was. She hated the need that bound her to him, didn’t want it. She didn’t want the driven passion that pulsed between them, not without love.
She wanted his love, his trust. She wanted to be with him for the rest of her life.
The revelation hit her like a ton of bricks. She’d been hiding the truth from herself for such a long time.
And she knew the shock must be there on her face, because he said softly, ‘I’m not going to throw things at you, or verbally rip you to pieces. I didn’t follow you here to apportion blame, just to get at the truth.’
He had to grit his teeth until his jaw hurt to stop himself taking her in his arms and assuring her that he didn’t bite. Or only very gently, and in all the right places.
He caught that thought and quashed it firmly. Thinking of kissing every inch of her delectable body was not a good idea. From the moment she’d walked into the room, sexy and sassy, standing her corner with her bare feet firmly planted on the ground, desire had eaten at him until his body could barely contain it.
Provocative witch. Clearly she wasn’t wearing a thing under that seductive scrap she’d put on, with her long hair falling down her back, her mouth a pouting scarlet invitation.
Every damn thing about her was an invitation. An invitation he had to turn down because he knew what she was. Leaving the abortion aside—which now, apparently, she was set to deny—there was still the unsavoury business with Harold coming between them.
His mouth turned grim. There were too many unanswered questions surrounding that relationship. He didn’t think he could hear the details without throwing up. So he wasn’t going to ask.
Making sure that there was no hint of antagonism in his tone, to make her clam up and go on the defensive, he said, ‘I was told on good authority that you’d had an abortion. So, OK, I know current thinking says a woman’s body is her own, to do with as she wants, but it was my child too. I think I have the right to know what happened. And, more importantly, why it happened.’
A band of anguish tightened around Georgia’s heart. Why was it possible to hold on to love for so long? The seeds had been sown ten years ago, had briefly blossomed, but they hadn’t died, as she’d fooled herself into believing. Just grown stronger.
The bitterness of that past betrayal welling up and spilling over, she said, ‘If it’s so important to you, why did you take so long to ask questions? I left Lytham because I was frightened by what Harold had said. I might as well have stopped existing. You never once made contact. So why rake over it now?’
‘I should have made contact,’ he acknowledged darkly. He levered his long body away from the windowframe and began to pace the room, his hands bunched in his pockets, his shoulders tense. ‘I might have prevented it, reassured you. I should have said to hell with my job; someone else can do it. But I didn’t. I thought you were safe.’
‘You’re not making any sense,’ she said, tight-lipped, keeping her jaw clamped to stop her teeth from rattling with tension. She didn’t want to relive those dark days. Ever since she’d pulled herself up out of that pit of depression she’d done everything she could to forget. She never talked about it.
‘No.’ Suddenly the tension ebbed out of him. ‘Perhaps I’m not.’ He stopped pacing, sat on the opposite end of the sofa, angled towards her, his hands hanging loosely between his knees. ‘I’ll try to be coherent. That day—after I’d finished with Harold—I went to find you. Your car had gone. I hung around, waiting for you to come back. Then I phoned your friend’s number. I’d guessed right. You were there. Sue’s brother answered. He said you’d gone to bed; you were upset. I told him not to disturb you, asked him to tell you I’d phoned and would be in touch in a couple of days, to stay
where you were and I’d come to pick you up and take you back to my apartment.
‘I’d only intended to stay at Lytham long enough to tell you of the arrangements I’d made for us, and to break the news of our imminent marriage over dinner. I had to get back to London. I was briefing a barrister on behalf of a client in an important and complicated case of alleged fraud. I was working round the clock. Every evening I phoned Sue’s number and got no reply. It didn’t worry me too much at first; I knew you’d be OK with them. Finally, I phoned Lytham, thinking you might have gone back for some reason—to collect clothes—whatever.
‘I told Vivienne I couldn’t reach you at Sue’s and she said she wasn’t surprised. Apparently, later on the night you’d left Lytham, you’d phoned her, told her you were pregnant, asked where I was.’
‘She said you’d already left, would have bought a ticket to the other side of the world—if you’d got any sense,’ Georgia interjected miserably, painful memories bludgeoning her brain. ‘She advised me to have an abortion and told me I would never be welcome at Lytham again. I’d always known she resented me, didn’t like me. I hadn’t known until then that she actually hated me.’
‘Dear God!’ Jason said thickly. ‘And I wasn’t there to help you.’ He angled his head up, and there was deep regret in the eyes that held hers so steadily. ‘Yes, she told me that she’d advised you to go for a termination, and that the problem was now sorted. Sue and her brother had picked you up from a private clinic that morning and taken you to their holiday home on the coast to recuperate.’
Georgia pushed her hair back off her face. Her hand was shaking. Jason reached out and covered it with his own. ‘At least you now know how much she regretted her treatment of you. Had she lived, the two of you could have tried to build a good relationship.’
The comfort of his hand on hers was something she truly needed. Her fingers twined around his, clinging. Breathing shakily, she moistened her dry lips and told him what she had figured out a long time ago.
‘Vivienne had to take Harold’s side and believe implicitly in what he said. If she hadn’t the marriage would have started to break down. It would have been the last thing she wanted at that time. She was in love with the lifestyle being married to a wealthy man gave her.’
His thumb was stroking the inside of her wrist now, and the inner yearning began to overwhelm her. Somehow she had to fight it, or she would shame herself by throwing herself at him again. And fighting him was easy when she dredged up the bitterness.
‘So Vivienne told you what had happened about the baby and you heaved a sigh of relief and got on with your busy life.’ Her voice tightened with remembered anguish, shook with it. ‘A bunch of flowers and a card would have been a more civilised way of drawing a final line under the sorry episode. At least it would have shown you gave me a fleeting thought!’
She dragged her hand from his and he didn’t try to recapture it. He went very still. Pain was etched in every line of his face. He said, ‘I think we could both use another drink, don’t you?’ and pushed himself to his feet. His broad back was to her, shutting her out, as he refilled their glasses.
Georgia wiped the back of her hand across her brow. It was dark now, the storm abating, the air steamy with humidity. And what had been started, this long trawl through the past, had, of necessity, to be finished.
He turned and looked at her, a glass in each hand. ‘That week—while I was back in London making arrangements for the wedding, all that stuff, putting my name on estate agents’ mailing lists so that we could look for a suitable place to live—I learned a surprising thing about myself. I was totally, completely happy.’
He raised one brow sardonically, as if mocking that long-ago folly. ‘I knew I wanted to be married. To you. You were sweet, loving—well, I’d always known that. What I hadn’t realised was how much I’d grown to love you. I wanted you, and our child, and when I learned of the abortion I was too damned angry to trust myself to pick up a phone and speak to you, let alone go anywhere near you.’
He put the glasses on the table in front of her, looking down at her. She lowered her eyes, tightening her mouth. She couldn’t bear it. He was all she had ever wanted and he had wanted her, too. There was no mistaking the sincerity in his voice. But it had all gone wrong.
Yet suddenly, gloriously, hope blossomed. The anger that had shattered everything for them had been misplaced. Vivienne hadn’t told him everything. When he learned the truth, accepted it, then everything might come right for them.
She clutched the hope closely to her heart as he said, ‘By the time I’d got myself into a calmer state of mind it was too late. You’d already left for America. You’d made no attempt to contact me. I knew then that our child and I had meant nothing to you. I set about wiping you out of my mind.’ He raked his fingers through his hair. ‘I’m telling you how it was. I’m not trying to make excuses, just giving you reasons.’
About to tell her that the mission to forget her had been pretty successful, until she’d got herself back in Harold’s life, he changed his mind. They both had enough to contend with right now without opening up that particular can of worms.
He flopped down on the sofa facing the one she was using, energy draining out of him, sweat glistening along his hairline. It was so damned hot.
Georgia got to her feet and came to stand over him, and he closed his eyes because the seductive sway of her body, the sticky heat making the thin fabric cling to every inch of her, threatened to be a temptation too far.
‘Jason.’ She said his name softly, verbally reaching out to him with all the love in her heart, all the passion, all the need. ‘I can’t give you excuses, either. Just reasons. Everything happened so quickly. After I’d phoned Vivienne from Sue’s I was frantic. You’d found me and Harold together and were too disgusted to want anything more to do with me, or so I thought. I went to my room and cried my eyes out for days, and Sue’s brother never did give me that message. I guess he was in too much of a panic to remember.’
She took in a ragged breath as, for the first time, she talked about the loss of her baby, a loss she had never come to terms with. ‘It was Sue who took charge when the pains started, called out their doctor—who took me to that clinic. Sue who stayed with me while I miscarried our child, who suggested they took me to the coast to recuperate and then to New York—very much earlier than we’d originally intended.’
She saw his eyes bat open, the sharp glitter in the smoky grey depths, heard the inward tug of breath into his lungs and knew that she had reached him, that at last he had listened to her, believed her. ‘I went because I hadn’t heard from you, and because I no longer cared what happened to me,’ she told him quietly. ‘I wanted to contact you but wouldn’t let myself. I was eighteen years old, totally insecure, deeply unhappy—because I’d lost what I most wanted in the world, both you and our child, and I couldn’t bear to hear you tell me to get lost.’
‘A miscarriage?’ He was struggling to come to terms with the sudden reversal of all his opinions. ‘Vivienne told me you’d—’
‘No,’ she interrupted gently, resisting the impulse to reach out physically, touch the side of his face with her hand. ‘Think about it. From what you said, she told you the problem was “sorted”. Sue had given her the news, and, yes, Vivienne had advised an abortion, but I never for one moment considered that as an option.’
She held her breath. Waiting. Deep in her bones she knew that everything hinged on whether he really believed her or not. True, there were medical records that could be checked, and Sue and her family would be only too happy to verify her story. But she needed him to believe her. Implicitly.
Briefly, he struggled with shock. The anger that had consumed every rational instinct in its wild flames, turning to the cold ashes of hatred, had been for nothing. He dragged in a harsh breath. Appalled.
‘Georgia.’ Raw emotion roughened his voice as he reached out, put his hands on her hips and pulled her towards him, resting hi
s head against the soft curve of her tummy. ‘I should have been there for you and I wasn’t. I won’t forgive myself for that.’
‘Don’t!’ she whispered brokenly. Talking about the trauma to him, the father of her lost child, had helped, taken away the pain. Threading her fingers through his soft dark hair, holding him closer, her hips swaying, moving against the side of his face, feeling the hard jut of his jaw, his slashing cheekbone press into her body, swaying because she simply couldn’t help it, because it was as natural, as right, as drawing breath, she said, ‘It’s over. It’s the past. We both let our emotions blind us to reality. Please—please, let’s start over.’
The musky scent of female arousal, the seductive, enticing, inviting movements of her fantastic body, the softness of her and the heat of her beneath the fine barrier of silk sent every rational and reasonable thought straight out of his head.
There was only need, the driving, burning savage need building inside him, until he could contain it no longer. Didn’t try.
Remorse, regret, and the urgency of desire were forces too powerful for him to fight. He turned his head into the softness of her, opened his mouth against the slippery scarlet silk and kissed her, and felt her gyrate for him. With a savage groan he slid his hands down the curve of her hips, moving them under her short, flirtatious skirt, cupped the flesh he’d known would be naked, brought his hands round and slipped to his knees. Lost and not regretting it. No room in his head for regrets. No room for anything but sweet Georgia and what she did to him.
With a tortured moan he pushed her skirt up to her waist, exulting in his dominion over her as she compliantly, instinctively, moved her small bare feet apart, her pelvis jutting forward, eager for him.
He shuddered as his mouth found the soft hair guarding her womanhood, felt the tips of her fingers convulse against his skull, and knew that this was what he’d wanted, dreamed of, ached for, ever since she’d come back into his life.
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