Daisy hitched in another breath as one thrill after another swept through her, leaving her shaking, confused. And traitorously—despite her decision to take this marriage her way, on her terms—wanting so much more. “Jack…” she murmured again, even more plaintively.
“Five minutes,” Jack repeated, and then both hands were tunneling through her hair and his lips fastened over hers. Daisy meant to fight the need to be with him again, the truth was she didn’t want to need anyone, but when their mouths fused in an explosion of wet, soft heat, she could no more deny the conquering pressure of teeth and tongue than she could forget to breathe. He tasted exactly the way she remembered him, dangerous, dark, male. He commanded, he conquered, he took what they both needed, wanted. And she melted into him helplessly, into the kiss, letting the longing and the pleasure and the overwhelmingly sensual sensations overwhelm her. It felt good. It felt right. And, given the unattractively plump shape her body was about to take, she didn’t want it to stop. Still, she knew they were setting a precedent here for how things would be in this marriage of theirs. And she didn’t want him thinking he had the upper hand or could boss her around. So, reluctantly, decisively, she tore her lips from his, stared up at him, her chest heaving as she worked to catch her breath.
Jack smiled at her. “It’s going to take more than five minutes, isn’t it?” He didn’t seem to mind at all.
Daisy flattened a hand against his chest. “It’s not going to happen,” she told him sternly. Not like this. Not with him calling all the shots, setting the agenda.
“Oh, I don’t know about that, Daze.” Jack dropped his head to kiss the back of her wrist, the inside of her forearm, the heart of her palm. He smiled as Daisy, unable to help herself, felt her senses quicken. “I haven’t forgotten how beautiful you are.” He cupped her breast through the layers of cotton knit and lace bra, and ran his thumb over the crest. Smiling, he dropped his head. His lips following the path of his thumb, he suckled her through the cloth until Daisy’s thighs parted of their own volition, and she arched against the unyielding hardness of his chest and thigh. “Or how much you enjoy being touched here,” Jack whispered, managing that zipper at long last and sliding his hand beneath her panties, settling it at the damp juncture of her legs. “And here,” he swept it through the petal-soft gateway, with such tender finesse she nearly came undone, “and here—” he slipped his fingers inside her as she opened herself to him.
Daisy caught her breath as a tiny explosion went off inside her body, shooting heat through all her limbs. Jack smiled and aligned his lips with hers. Still caressing her gently, moving his fingertips from delicate nub to deep inside and back again, he kissed her deeply, resolutely, as if branding her as his. And oh, Daisy thought, how she wanted to be his, how she wanted to take him deep inside her once again.
His golden-brown eyes glimmering with a mixture of anticipation and need, Jack gently caressed the sides of her face with his palms and feathered soft kisses along her hairline, then sat up just long enough to strip off her top and undo the front clasp of her bra. Her response every bit as elemental and inevitable as his, Daisy moaned softly as Jack bared her to the waist. His eyes raked her breasts, making her feel more beautiful and womanly than she had in her entire life. He was making her feel reckless and impetuous again, and those two things always got her in over her head.
“You’re not playing fair,” Daisy whispered, her heart beating even harder as her body continued to ache and burn with everything that had been missing from her life. Stronger still was her desire not to let something this wonderful go by unexperienced and unexplored. Maybe this wasn’t love. Maybe it would never be. But it felt so good, so right, Daisy thought as Jack continued to kiss her.
His body pulsing with the need to take her and make her his, Jack bent and kissed the soft, freckled valley between her breasts, her nipples, every inch of the sweet plump mounds. “That’s one thing you should realize about me, Daze.” Knowing marriage had sealed their fate, he slid his hands under her, cupping her bottom possessively, holding her close, rubbing himself against her until he was certain she wanted him the way he wanted her, with every fiber of her being.
“And what’s that?” Daisy teased back between sweet, arousing kisses.
He tried—and failed—to keep the smile from his voice. “When it comes to getting what I want when I want, I don’t feel honor-bound to be anything but driven and unstoppable.”
“Well, I guess we have that in common, then.” Her deep-blue eyes gleamed with a mischievous light as she laced her hands around his neck. “Because I want what I want when I want it, too.”
A woman after his own heart, Jack thought. The difference being he was steady and reliable. And Daisy was, well…Daisy. Reckless and headstrong, daring and passionate, and yet still secretly the innocent in so many ways. And for that he had to be careful, Jack knew. Not to push her too hard or too fast. Or scare her with talk that was too serious. No, Jack thought as he brought her back into his arms and kissed her soundly. That would come later, after their baby was born, when they would be able to hold their child in their arms and realize what a lifelong commitment this was. Then she would know in her heart what he already did, that their feelings, their happiness, didn’t matter so much as their child’s. And that they could and would make any and all sacrifices necessary to ensure the security and happiness of the baby they shared.
In the meantime, Jack thought, reveling in the hunger of her kisses and the more urgent demand in him, they had this to forge new bonds and bring them together. Determined to make the most of the chemistry flowing between them, he hooked his hands inside the elastic of her panties and pushed them down, along with her capri pants. She stirred as he kissed his way down her body then kissed her way down his. Savoring the sweetness of her unexpected acquiescence to him, he turned her so she was beneath him and wrapped his arms around her, groaning at the softness of her body, the sense of rightness, the instinctive knowledge he belonged inside her. Sliding a pillow beneath her, he parted her thighs, kissing the hollow of her stomach, stroking the soft insides of her thighs. Then dropped lower still to deliver the most intimate of kisses, until her body took on a primitive rhythm all its own, until there was no doubting how much she needed him. Jack parted her gently and eased into her. Deepening his penetration even more, he kissed her slowly and thoroughly. Until she groaned, soft and low in the back of her throat and looked up at him with eyes that were glazed with need.
“Like this?” Jack asked softly, his body trembling with the effort it took to contain his own pressing desire.
“Yes,” Daisy whispered, meeting him with abandonment. “Oh yes.”
He couldn’t get enough of her as she rose to meet him, and wanting to draw out every ounce of pleasure for both of them, he filled her with slow, sensual strokes. Going deeper, then easier, hotter, wilder until they were clinging together, overwhelmed, in a fierce storm of passion, tenderness and need. For a long blissful moment they hung there, shuddering and reaching for the inevitable in that perfect weightless world. And then it was nothing but a blazing explosion of heat. Free fall. And down-soft contentment.
A few moments afterward, Daisy moved to the edge of the mattress, but Jack caught her by the waist and pulled her back into his arms. Daisy scowled at him. “I’m not going to be a conventional wife, Jack. So I don’t want you acting all territorial.”
Jack gave her the grin of a very sexually satisfied male. “I don’t want us to act the way everyone else thinks we should act, either, just because that’s what is expected,” he said, the sense of purpose back in his eyes as he tangled his legs intimately with hers.
“Then what do you want?” Daisy asked breathlessly. Aside from the baby I’m carrying, and maybe just maybe, my birth father’s approval, entrée into the Deveraux family and family holdings I might someday inherit.
But to her surprise, he didn’t seem interested in any of that. “I want us to be lovers,” Jack replied, looking dow
n at her as if all of this that was happening was somehow ordained. He paused to kiss her again, greedily, insatiably, then smiled even more broadly. “Think you can handle that?”
TOM HAD JUST SAT DOWN to breakfast in the dining room, when the doorbell rang. Seconds later, Theresa appeared in the portal. Her expression tentative but hopeful, she said, “Grace is here. Shall I show her in?”
His attitude as cautious as his longtime housekeeper’s, Tom nodded. Wondering what would prompt his ex to come by at this early hour—they hadn’t exactly parted on friendly terms the last time they had seen each other—he pushed his chair back. After a few moments, Grace breezed in looking fresh and lovely, every bit the career woman, in a deep-rose silk shantung pantsuit. She waved off his attempt to help her with her chair. “I only have a few minutes,” she said briskly as she took the chair closest to him. “I have to be at the studio to begin taping a show at ten.”
“May I get you some breakfast?” Theresa asked from the doorway.
Grace shook her head. “Just coffee will be fine, thank you, Theresa.”
Theresa poured, then said, “If it’s all right with you, I’ll be heading on over to the market to do my shopping for the day before it gets any warmer.”
“That’s fine,” Tom said. He welcomed the privacy. As soon as they were alone, Grace removed a folded section of newspaper from her purse and put it in front of him. “I’m guessing by your perplexed look, you haven’t seen this.”
Tom focused on the section of Bucky Jerome’s “Around the City” column circled in red marker and began to read:
Parting Such Sweet Sorrow?
Back-again celeb-resident Grace Deveraux is no longer studying yoga with the acclaimed Paulo. Whispers had them dating for at least a month, but now, according to sources in the know, the May-December relationship is kaput. Will her ex, shipping magnate Tom Deveraux, be waiting in the wings? Only time, and this column, will tell.
Grace released an annoyed breath. “I’ve already had a call from a New York City gossip columnist and Personalities magazine, wanting to know if it’s true.”
Tom ignored the hope rising inside him and focused on her face. “What did you say?” he asked with deceptive casualness.
Grace made a so-so motion with her hands. “That I returned to Charleston after my stint at Rise and Shine, America! because my family is here and you’re part of that family, even though we’re still divorced.”
Tom knew the media well enough to realize the scandal-hungry press would not have been satisfied with just that. “What did you say about the Paulo part of it?” Was it over? And why did he care so much if it was?
“That there’s nothing to report,” Grace replied, the look in her eyes turning both steely and defensive.
“Which is true as far as it goes,” Tom guessed warily, pushing the lingering image of his ex and her lover from his mind.
“Which is true, period,” Grace corrected, candidly meeting his glance.
Was that regret Tom saw shimmering in her eyes?
“I’m not seeing him anymore in any capacity.”
Tom should have felt happy about that, maybe even relieved, given that a guy like Paulo was all wrong for Grace. But he felt angry and resentful instead. Hating that he was reacting like a jealous husband, when he and Grace were way past that, and had been for years, until he had foolishly got his hopes up about a reconciliation once again, Tom turned away from her, pushed back his chair and stood.
Striding out of the dining room, he dismissed her with a curt “Thanks for coming by to alert me, but this is really none of my business, Grace.” And in future, he amended silently to himself, he’d rather not hear about it or know who she was or was not sleeping with. It hurt too much going back down that road.
Grace followed him down the hall and into the portal of his study. “I know, but I just thought you should know the truth and be prepared for anything, if reporters start calling your office.”
Tom grabbed the files off his desk and slid them into his briefcase. “I appreciate the heads-up,” he said brusquely.
Grace lingered in the doorway, her cheeks unusually pink. The morning sunlight pouring in through the windows sparkled in her casually coiffed hair, making it look even blonder. “How are you doing?” she asked with more than the usual interest.
Tom shut his briefcase with a snap, aware this whole encounter had turned way too intimate and personal for his comfort, under the circumstances of their latest estrangement. “All right.”
She straightened and glided closer, in a drift of Chanel N05 perfume. “What about Daisy and that whole situation?”
Despite his aggravation with her, Tom could see Grace really wanted to know. Because what happened with Daisy would in turn affect the four children he and Grace shared, Tom had no choice but to inform her. He grabbed his cell phone out of the charger and slipped it into the leather holder on his belt. “Daisy agreed to a DNA test yesterday. We should have the results back in a couple of weeks.”
To Tom’s surprise, Grace looked accepting of that. If not necessarily happy about it. “And in the meantime?”
Tom tensed as he thought about all the things that could still go wrong as they attempted to sort out this very difficult and delicate situation. “Daisy and I have agreed to say nothing publicly about what we know.”
“You think she will hold to that?” Grace asked sympathetically.
Tom shrugged, feeling as uneasy about the possibility of this scandal exploding in their faces as Grace was. “I don’t know,” Tom told his ex-wife honestly. “As you know, Daisy is unpredictable, to say the least.” Tom paused, and seeing no way to preface it, finally said bluntly, “For example, she married Jack Granger two days ago.”
Grace blinked. Her mouth opened into a round “oh” of shock. “What?”
Tom knew just how Grace felt. He was still reeling from the news, too. Grimacing, he continued, “Apparently, they slept together the night she came back from Switzerland, when she left the party. I sent Jack after her.” Jack, Tom realized in retrospect, had been following the Daisy trail for too long. Enough to become fundamentally attracted to her on some level, Tom guessed. He shook his head in silent regret, reflecting. “I suppose, knowing Daisy, how wild and reckless she can be, that what happened next was as much my fault as anything.”
Grace tilted her head at Tom and gave him a familiar glance. “You don’t look as if you really believe that.”
Tom shrugged. He should have known Grace would have picked up on that—her parental instincts were unmatched. “You’re right… I think Jack could have—should have—restrained himself. It would have been a lot better for all of us if he hadn’t slept with Daisy that night. But the bottom line is he didn’t use good judgment, nor did she. And Daisy did what she always seems to do when she is hurt or upset or frightened, she took off on another wild jaunt.”
Grace regarded Tom with a mixture of shock and sympathy. “Jack told you this?” She seemed unable to imagine this, and again, Tom knew exactly how she felt.
“Reluctantly, the very next morning,” Tom replied, remembering that emotional confrontation and the resulting scene, when everything became clear to Tom. He shook his head, continuing, “He had no choice. He’s too honest and straightforward. I’m sure he knew it would be a mistake for me to hear the news from anyone else first or find out what had happened any other way—say, from Daisy herself.”
“But you didn’t fire him.”
Tom shook his head. He had been sorely tempted, and was, in fact, still so disappointed in his employee for what he had done that he could barely talk to the man in a civil manner. But Tom had also known this was more and more a situation of his own making. Jack hadn’t offered to get involved in this whole Daisy mess. Tom had drafted him into it and kept him involved, even during the times when he knew Jack did not want to be dealing with whatever it was that was going on. And Tom had done so because Jack was the kind of man who could be trusted to be completel
y discreet, which he had been. Jack didn’t ask questions of Tom that he did not want to answer. Instead, Jack simply did what his employer wanted him to do. Until now. And as much as a part of Tom wanted to, he could not discount everything Jack had done for him over the years.
“It wouldn’t have been appropriate for me to fire him,” Tom explained eventually. “Not from Deveraux-Heyward Shipping.”
Grace looked even more distressed. She flattened a hand over her chest. “Did you at least tell him to stay away from her—I mean a month ago, when all this was first going on?”
No, he hadn’t. And that had been another mistake, Tom reflected. A big one. Again, he shook his head, and briefly explained about the stolen SUV, credit card and cash, the decision by Jack, Harlan Decker and Tom not to go to the police but merely to wait until Daisy surfaced, as they knew she eventually would. “When she turned up in Lake Tahoe a few days ago, Jack came to me and asked me what I wanted him to do. I told Jack to go and get her, and do whatever he had to do to straighten things out between the two of them, and then bring her back to Charleston ASAP.”
“And did he?”
“Yes.” Tom grit his teeth. “But as his wife.” And Tom was still trying to figure that one out. Had Jack really felt Tom expected him to make an honest woman of Daisy and marry her? Was Jack going the extra mile to impress Tom, the way he had on so many other Deveraux-Heyward Shipping–related tasks in the past? Or had Jack eloped with Daisy simply because Jack wanted to, for reasons of his own? Either way, Tom concluded angrily, Jack and Daisy did not behave as if they were in love. Lust maybe, but not love. And lust was capricious at best, Tom knew.
“Thereby, adding one mistake to another,” Grace added softly.
Tom nodded, agreeing with his ex-wife’s assessment. Except he didn’t know who to blame for this latest fool-hardiness. Daisy, Jack or even himself for allowing any further contact between Jack and Daisy, period. The only thing Tom knew for sure was that none of what had happened was like Granger. Jack simply did not behave in an impetuous, irresponsible manner. Daisy, however, excelled in such reckless and inappropriate behavior. There had been dozens of stories about her antics over the years, starting when she was a little girl. Some had made the newspaper, many had not. But all were reported and savored—sometimes viciously—in Charleston society. Tom sighed, for the first time having an inkling of what Richard and Charlotte Templeton had been dealing with all these years. He didn’t envy them the task of trying to rein Daisy in. Or himself, for having to possibly try and parent such an accomplished hellion at such a late stage. “I don’t know what either Jack or Daisy was thinking,” Tom stated finally.
The Heiress Page 12