Jack began to move, making her gasp and forcing her mind back to the physical reality of the moment, which was Jack, thrusting powerfully into her, Jack, having sex with her.
It wasn't love for him, was it?
Everything inside her contracted, with emotional pain not sexual pleasure. Yet it possibly felt the same to him, for he moaned and stopped momentarily. She stared up at him with hopeless longing, and he stared back down at her, an odd expression crossing his already strained face.
And then he did something that threw Courtney into total despair. He closed his eyes, and sighed.
He's thinking of her, she agonised. Maybe even pretending I'm her. That's what that weird look was all about. And that sigh.
Immediately, she wanted him gone from her. Away. Out of her body!
But no sooner had that angry thought swept through her than he began to move again, and she gasped, stunned at the pleasure he could still bring, even when she knew what she was to him. A cypher. A stand-in. A second-rate substitute.
Suddenly she understood her mother's bitterness towards her father. She must have fallen in love with him too. But he hadn't loved her back. That was his crime, not loving her back, whilst still being able to enjoy her body and forcing her to enjoy his.
Courtney tried not to enjoy Jack's body. Tried to switch off. But it was too late. Either mat or she was too weak. Loving Jack was making her weak. Terribly weak.
Finally, she didn't even try to fight her feelings. Impossible, anyway. They were consuming her with a heat and a passion so strong that nothing short of a bomb falling on this bed was going to stop her seeing this out to its inevitable end.
Her first spasm had her sucking air sharply into her lungs. She might have screamed out, but his mouth crashed down on hers again, muffling her cries into soft moans, making her head spin even as the spasms went on and on and on. His big arms wrapped round her and he scooped her up from the bed, clutching her hard to him as he came too, shuddering and shaking. He buried his head in her hair, muttering things she couldn't quite make out.
Finally the tempest was over, and an awkward stillness descended on both of them. An awkward silence as well.
Jack's rather weary sigh spelled things out for Courtney.
Hard to keep pretending once the heat of the moment
was over and cold reality returned. Reality being a simple country girl with long dark hair, not a glamorous city-smart blonde who no doubt didn't fancy the missionary position at all, but all sorts of other exotic and erotic ways.
Courtney had used to think she knew it all when it came to seducing men. Yet what did she really know, other than being on top along with some elementary oral techniques? Hardly the stuff sex goddesses were made of.
Courtney's despair deepened. Jack is never going to fall in love with me, not after Katrina. All I can hope for is a superficial friendship, sex every night he's here, and maybe the odd one-night stand whenever I come to Sydney.
An hour ago Courtney could have coped with that quite well.
Now it would hurt her more than she could ever have envisaged. Yet, at the same time, she knew she wouldn't say no. She'd be there, at his beck and call, for as long as he wanted her.
That was the truth of it. Better to accept the harsh reality of a one-sided love, otherwise she might end up as bitter and twisted as her mother.
Besides, Jack was not a bad man. Just the opposite. He was a very nice man. He wasn't out to deliberately hurt her, or to callously use her. He thought she was on his wavelength, wanting nothing more from their relationship than what he'd offered right from the start.
An affair.
Now it was up to her to keep that status quo, as well as her pride. There would be no dramatic confession of love. No desperate tactics to try to get him to fall in love with her. Hell, no. She wasn't playing sweet little thing
for any man. Or femme fatale, either. She was what she was and he could take her or leave her.
Which meant he would probably do both.
It would hurt, but she'd survive. Of course she would. She'd been brought up tough.
But first, how to extricate herself from Jack's arms without his twigging to anything being wrong?
Their position was still highly intimate and extrication potentially embarrassing. Jack was sitting on his haunches in the middle of the bed with her clasped tightly against his torso, her buttocks resting on his thighs, their bodies still intimately locked together.
'Er...um...Jack...?'
'Mmm?' His head remained buried in her hair.
'I...I need to go to bed. I have to be up early.'
He groaned, and lifted his head, his blue eyes soft and dreamy. 'I don't want you to go,' he murmured. 'I want you to stay with me.'
'I can't,' she replied, trying not to show alarm. Because she wanted to, oh, so much, wanted to wallow in his arms and in his lovemaking, if not for the rest of her life, then at least for one whole night.
But Agnes was an early riser and she simply didn't dare.
'I don't know about you, but I'm exhausted,' she went on, using every ounce of her willpower to sound cool and calm. 'We can spend more time together tomorrow night.'
His smile was wry. 'Can I trust you not to change your mind again?'
Oh, God. Little did he know.
'After that magnificent performance?'
'Same time tomorrow night, then?' he suggested.
'A little earlier perhaps.' She knew she wouldn't be able to wait till midnight a second time. 'I never could resist a bargain.'
Surprisingly, he didn't laugh at her joke. Instead, he frowned. 'What about Agnes?'
'Agnes is usually in bed by ten-thirty.'
'What kept you so long tonight?'
Fear of coming back and falling in love with you. 'A foal. A gorgeous little colt.' Her face softened at the thought of it, valiantly struggling to its feet so soon after birth. 'A darling thing. But he gave the mare a bit of a hard time. I had to sit there in the straw for ages, stroking her neck and telling her it was going to be all right.'
'Which it was?'
'Oh, yes. Mother and baby doing fine.'
He gave her an odd look, as though he wanted to say something but wasn't sure if it was a good idea. 'Courtney...'
'Yes?'
'Just now, when we were making love...' His hesitation brought a tightening to her heart.
'Yes?' she asked warily. Don't you dare tell me that, her eyes informed him. I don't need to know. That would be cruel.
He sighed again. Damn, but she hated those sighs. 'Nothing. It was fantastic. That's all. You're fantastic. I just wanted you to know that.'
She smiled through her heartbreak. "Thanks, lover. But you're the one who was fantastic. I can't wait till tomorrow night.' And wasn't that the truth? 'Meanwhile, don't forget your promise to be discreet. No giveaways, please, when other people are around. No sneaky little kisses or hand-holding, or any of that mushy stuff. I mean...we don't have to do that, do we? We both know
the score here. It's not as though we're besotted lovers. We're adults, enjoying a nice little discreet fling. Isn't that right?'
Deny it, she willed wildly as she looked up at him. Tell me it isn't so. Tell me you're madly besotted with me, that you can't keep your hands off me, that you want me by your side till we die!
The feverish desperation of her thoughts disgusted her, and she looked away. Love had turned her into a fool. A stupid, romantic, female fool.
Oh, Mum. I know what you suffered now.
But she hated the thought of becoming bitter like her mother. Somehow, she had to stop that happening.
'I really must go now, Jack,' Courtney said truthfully enough, calmer eyes swinging back up to his.
The most seductive passion glittered in his eyes.
'And I really don't want you to go.'
'That's very flattering, but I really think that-'
His mouth obliterated the rest of her words.
Courtney was t
o be appalled later to realise it took him all of five seconds' flat to change her mind.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
COURTNEY rolled over, blinked blearily, and finally focused on her bedside clock.
'Good grief!' she exclaimed, and leapt from the bed. 'Ten-thirty!'
Seven minutes later she was showered, dressed and hurrying downstairs, her hands scooping her hair up into a ponytail on the way. She burst into the kitchen, startled to find Agnes, Jack and Sarah sitting at the kitchen table, sipping cups of tea.
The trio glanced up at her as she rushed through the door, both Jack and Sarah saying good morning and smiling whilst Agnes rose to move over to the stove. Sarah was especially effusive in her greeting, which was not like her at all.
A widow, Sarah Pearson had come to work at Crosswinds twenty years before, shortly after her gamblerholic husband had shot himself, leaving her with three teenage daughters to raise on her own. At the time of his suicide, Reg Pearson had been working at Crosswinds as a general handyman, and the stud had been a much smaller concern. Hilary had taken pity on the destitute Sarah and had created a job for her as secretary and office manager, even though Sarah hadn't been able to type back then.
Now fifty-seven, Sarah was still not the greatest typist in the world. Neither was she a great manlover. Her bright smile, plus the colour in her plump cheeks this morning, made it apparent Jack had already been working his effortless charm on her.
The silly stab of jealousy this thought evoked made Courtney resolve to avoid Jack during daylight hours, confining her weakness for him to those private moments behind closed doors. She would not be able to function properly as the boss of Crosswinds if she kept thinking about him and the ease with which he had seduced her to his will last night.
She hadn't returned to her own bed till after three. No wonder she'd slept like the dead.
But what of the man himself? He had to be some kind of machine to do what he'd done and pop back up this morning looking perkier than a buck-rabbit in springtime.
There he sat, sipping tea and smiling up at her over the rim of his cup, looked totally refreshed and relaxed. Yet it was clear he'd been up for some time, if the empty breakfast plates beside him were any guide. He was wearing the stone-washed jeans he'd worn the previous day, but with a different top, a blue Sloppy Joe which made his eyes look bluer than the bluest outback sky.
'Someone should have woken me up,' she said to no one in particular as she set about making herself a mug of instant coffee.
'Jack thought you deserved a sleep in,' Sarah said.
Courtney finished making the black sugarless coffee before slowly turning, a cool smile hiding her pounding heart.
'Really?' Her eyes met his directly.
His eyebrows lifted ever so slightly in what she saw as a wickedly knowing gesture, and suddenly she was back in his bed, boneless after another mind-blowing orgasm, begging him to stop, then begging him not to.
Truly, she'd never known such orgasms existed. What she'd been experiencing all these years paled by comparison.
Being in love with your lover certainly made a difference. As did the skill of that lover. Jack was everything Courtney had dreamt, yet feared he'd be. Demanding, yet giving. Dominating, yet not selfish. A sensualist of the first order, infinitely tender and gently coercing. It had been so easy to close her eyes and pretend that he loved her. No man could have been more loving in his lovemaking. That was the most seductive part of all.
But he didn't love her. She really couldn't afford to forget that, or Lord knew what other stupidities she might fall victim to. Being his love slave every night of his stay was going to be bad enough.
'You had a very long weekend,' he said, his eyes never leaving hers. "The trip down to Sydney on Friday, the races on Saturday, driving back on Sunday. Then a late night last night on top of that. You had to have been exhausted.'
Courtney decided she wasn't going to indulge in word games or double entendres. Jack might like that kind of thing, but she didn't.
'Yes, I was very tired,' she said. 'You're right. But now it's Monday morning and time to get back to business. Have you had the opportunity yet to ask Sarah about all those things you wanted to know?' Presumably, by now, Sarah had been informed of the lie of the land.
'We've only just touched the surface, haven't we, Sarah?'
'Oh, yes. Barely. It's going to take most of the day, if Jack wants a detailed history of every horse you own. At last count, Crosswinds had over sixty brood mares. And then there's the three stallions, the yearlings and all those horses Hilary leased out for racing.'
'No worries,' Courtney said. 'I'm going to be busy all day myself, doing the rounds with Ned. It's busy, busy, busy at this time of year, isn't it, Agnes?'.
Agnes glanced around from where she was cooking Courtney her usual breakfast of scrambled eggs on toast. 'It certainly is. And, speaking of Ned, he was here looking for you a little while ago. I said you'd go see him as soon as you'd had breakfast. He said to tell you he'd be at the breeding barn.'
'Right.' Courtney started sipping her mug of steaming coffee. 'Did he say what he wanted me for?' she asked, and a tiny icicle of apprehension trickled down her spine.
'No. But he didn't look all that happy.'
'I wonder what he's doing down at the breeding barn? I mean...the season hasn't started yet.'
.'Maybe the roof has sprung a leak,' Sarah piped up. 'It's pretty old, you know. Most of the buildings have leaky roofs, the office included.'
'Yes, I know,' Courtney said grimly, her mind well and truly back on the problems at Crosswinds. She'd forgotten them for a while, there. 'Let's hope we can do something about that soon,' she added, and turned a matter-of-fact face Jack's way. 'How long do you think it will take to get the money, if your investor decides he's in?'
'Barely any time at all. He might have to sell a few stocks and shares, but that only takes minutes.'
'In that case, how long do you think before you'll be able to give him the go-ahead? And before you say it, yes, I know you'll want to be satisfied Crosswinds is a going concern with potential for future profits first. I'm assuming you'll be happy with what Sarah shows you. And what you see here in general. As I said before, shabby fences and leaky buildings mean nothing. They
are not the value in a stud. It's the land itself, plus the brood mares and stallions. And ours are second to none.'
'I appreciate that. Look, it shouldn't take me too long. After Sarah's input today, I'll need to speak to your accountant. Perhaps you could arrange an appointment for tomorrow? Then I'd like to spend the rest of the week just getting the feel of the place, seeing how things run on a more personal level. I often rely on my gut instinct, not just facts and figures, when it comes to an investment. I'd say by next weekend I should be satisfied, one way or another.'
Courtney frowned and wondered if she was reading between the lines correctly here. What did he really mean by 'the feel of the place', and 'on a more personal level'? Exactly what kind of satisfaction was he referring to? Was he implying that if she kept him happy in bed all week he'd recommend the investment?
Shock at this last thought held her speechless for a split second. She hadn't expected such scurrilous behaviour from a man who'd nobly paid off debts he hadn't personally incurred. But she supposed men could never be trusted when it came to matters of sex and ego.
As for herself... She was a goner anyway when it came to resisting him sexually. So she might as well use that to secure her investor. But it put a nasty taste in her mouth. Hopefully, she was wrong about this. But if she wasn't?
Courtney smothered a sigh. Who did she think she was kidding? She would still do whatever was necessary to save Crosswinds.
A knock on the back door interrupted her troubled thoughts.
It was Ned, looking more than a little worried.
Although only forty-four, Ned's outdoor lifestyle in the Australian sun, plus his hatred of hats, had left him with a very lined face. But
some of the lines at that moment were clearly coming from stress. Or distress.
Serious alarm bells started ringing in Courtney's head. Ned was not a man easily rattled, or upset. He had a laid-back, laconic style which suited the handling of highly strung horses.
'What is it, Ned?'
'We have a serious problem with one of the stallions, boss.'
Courtney liked it that he called her boss, the same as he'd called her mother. Not that she expected it from anyone else around Crosswinds. Most just called her Courtney.
'Which one?'
'Goldplated.'
Oh, no...
Miranda Lee - Marriage At A Price Page 10