He raised one eyebrow, but did not comment. Say it, Emma willed, tell her that you love her, isn't that why you asked her to come over specifically to join you in Tobago?
She squinted at Lloyd, who seemed to be a mere dot in the distance, although she could see that he was still standing, with the water reaching him only slightly above the waist.
She stood up and walked slowly towards the water. It was beautifully warm. Emma paddled out to join Lloyd and immediately joined in a water fight with him, kicking away as he swam and tried to grab her legs. She lost herself in the sheer fun of it, lying on her back and floating alongside him when they had both exhausted themselves.
As they drifted to the motion of the current, she listened to him as he told her about his love-life, which, he said, was all over.
i thought it was the real thing,' Emma commented with amusement.
it was. At the time.'
She laughed, spluttering as he pulled her underneath the water. When she felt his lips brush against hers, she was surprised but didn't pull away.
is this the best you can offer to a heartbroken young man?' he asked with a grin.
'Heartbroken young men should be cooped up in a dark room, wondering how they're ever going to recover and finding relief in huge boxes of chocolates.'
'That's what heartbroken young women do,' Lloyd responded vigorously. 'We men are braver.'
'Ah.' Emma nodded sagely. 'By braver I take it you mean that you immediately find a replacement for the last girlfriend?'
This time Lloyd didn't answer. Instead, he grabbed her by the waist, and this time his kiss was harder, more demanding. His lips covered hers, and she could feel his tongue moving against hers, demanding a response.
Emma pushed him away to arm's length.
'Whoa. I don't intend to be the replacement,' she protested, but couldn't help laughing when he pulled a comic
face. With Lloyd love and lovemaking was a game, one to be lost or won, but either way with the same degree of good humour.
He did not excite a response in her, but she could not find it in her heart to be severe. Besides, she had a feeling that severity was the last thing in the world that would deter Lloyd. He was too full of boyish enthusiasm to take it seriously.
His hands circled her waist and he said with an exaggerated French accent, 'We could make sweet music together.'
Emma giggled hysterically. 'With that phony French accent?'
'I have quite a large repertoire of accents. How about a Russian one?'
'No way.'
'Humphrey Bogart?'
Emma shook her head.
'I guess,' Lloyd said mournfully, 'you're telling me that we won't be making sweet music together after all.' He pretended to wipe a tear away from the side of his face. 'I'm crushed.'
'You will be in a minute if you don't stop acting the wounded animal.' She lunged at him, tickling him under his arms as he tried to escape by splashing her.
'Femme sans merci!' he yelped. 'Or whatever!'
They were still giggling as they headed back towards the beach. Lloyd threw his arm around her neck with brotherly affection.
'Look me up if you're ever in Trinidad,' he said soberly. 'I'll show you a good time, absolutely no strings attached.'
Emma promised. She would do it, as well. She liked Lloyd, and felt that they could become friends. She impulsively squeezed his hand and grinned up at him.
When she looked ahead, it was to find Conrad staring at her from underneath his cap with brooding intensity.
Sophia waved at them. She had covered herself with a large white shirt and was wearing a wide-brimmed hat to shade her face.
i think it's time we left,' Conrad said abruptly, as Emma sat down on the towel and prepared to smother her body with suntan oil.
'Already?' Sophia looked at him in surprise. 'We've only been here an hour. I'll have a quick dip, then,' she said, reading the cool, uncompromising expression on his face.
She walked gracefully towards the water, gently splashing her body with water as she submerged.
'We should have brought two cars,' Lloyd commented. 'Emma and I could have followed on.' He turned to her. 'Don't you agree, my little chickadee?'
Emma tried to stifle her giggle and failed.
'Shame, isn't it?' Conrad said in a frozen voice. His eyes were chips of ice.
What's eating him? Emma wondered. He had not glanced at her once, but she could feel the coldness emanating from his body in a wave. Maybe he had had an argument with Sophia, although the few times that she had spotted them from the water they had not seemed to be talking, far less having an argument.
Anyway, if he had argued with her, it was downright unfair to take it out on Lloyd, who had retreated into a bewildered silence.
'Perhaps we could come back here another day?' she remarked, turning to Lloyd.
This time Conrad did look at her and his expression was flint-hard. 'Have you forgotten why you're here?' he asked coldly. 'You're here to work. So you say. It's what you're being handsomely paid for. You're not here to frolic on the beach every day so that you can improve your suntan.'
i have no intention of frolicking on the beach every day!' Emma spluttered angrily. 'To improve my suntan!
For your information, this is about the first day I've taken off, and that's only because Alistair's ill and can't work at the moment! So don't you dare accuse me of shirking!'
She looked at him scathingly and a dark red flush crept up his face.
'I never accused you of anything,' he said harshly. 'You accused yourself. Perhaps it's a guilty conscience getting the better of you.'
Emma clenched her fists impotently at her sides.
She watched him as he strode towards the sea and muttered a few curt words to Sophia.
'You two seem to get along well,' Lloyd commented mildly.
'Does anyone get along with a cobra?'
'Oh, I don't know. Sophia tells me that all her friends find him wildly attractive and it's got nothing to do with the size of his bank balance. I think that half the thrill with Sophia is that she feels as if she's netted the biggest fish in the ocean.'
'Well, good luck to her,' Emma said darkly. 'I hope that she has the patience of Job. She'll need it if she's going to put up with Conrad DeVere for more than five minutes.'
They drove back in a silence broken only by the odd remark from Sophia, who seemed only mildly disconcerted by Conrad's terseness. She lay back with her head against the cushioned headrest, her eyes closed behind the large sunglasses, her face upraised to the sun which filtered through the glass into the air-conditioned car.
When they arrived back at the house, Lloyd drew her to one side, reiterating his offer to show her around Trinidad if she ever decided to pay it a visit. He was travelling back early the following morning.
'Can't stay away from my nightclub for too long,' he whispered conspiratorially in her ear. 'All those girls. I
can't deprive them of my masterful company or else they start pining.'
'You live in a dream world, Lloyd,' Emma whispered back.
'I know, but it's fun, isn't it?'
Out of the corner of her eye Emma could see Conrad watching their brief parting exchange with a grim expression.
He nodded to them as they drove off, and Emma followed him into the house. In the sort of mood that he was in, avoidance was obviously the best policy. It had been an enjoyable afternoon, only marred by Conrad's ill temper. If he were less formidable a man, it could quite easily have been ignored, but his personality dominated everything and he had made no effort to hide his curtness.
Emma ran quickly up the staircase. Conrad was nowhere to be seen, which was just as well because he was about the last person she wanted to confront.
She mentally planned the rest of what remained of her day, deciding that she would sit with Alistair for as long as he wanted. They still had a lot to discuss, reminiscences which she would enjoy hearing about, if he did not find them
too painful. There was much he could tell her and as much that she could tell him.
Her bedroom door was ajar when she reached her room. Emma wondered fleetingly whether Esther had been in to clean the room and forgotten to close it.
She pushed it open, her mind still racing ahead to all the things that Alistair and she had to say to each other.
Conrad was lying on the bed, in a pair of shorts and the same T-shirt which he had worn to the beach and which clung to his body in damp patches. His hands were clasped behind his head and he was surveying her through narrowed eyes.
Emma stopped in her tracks, feeling the adrenalin pumping quickly through her body. Her mouth went dry
and the fine blonde hairs on her arms almost seemed to stand on end.
'What are you doing here?' she asked warily. 'What do you want?' She stopped where she was, not daring to take another step forwards. It would bring her too close to him.
She had already seen what he was capable of—worse, what she was capable of with him—and the prospect of a repeat performance of what had happened that morning frightened her.
The hooded blue eyes gazing at her sent little alarm bells ringing in her head, even though she told herself that she could control the situation.
But she didn't like the way he was looking at her. It was far too intense and far too stripping.
He's got a fiancee, she thought wildly, trying to compose her features into ordered calm.
She thought of Sophia, but the image was blurry.
'Would you mind leaving?' she said coolly. 'I want to change.'
'Feel free.' Conrad gestured expansively towards the ensuite bathroom, but did not budge.
'I'd feel freer if you left.'
They stared at each other for what seemed to Emma like decades. She could feel the heavy pounding of her heart, could almost hear it, and she wondered whether he could hear it too.
'You mean if someone else were here instead?'
Emma regarded him in frank puzzlement. 'Someone else?' she repeated. 'What are you talking about?'
'You know very well what I'm talking about,' Conrad replied roughly. He slung his legs over the side of the bed and was standing in front of her before Emma could even realise what was happening.
She looked around desperately at the half-opened door. He followed the line of her gaze and closed it gently but firmly.
'You intrigue me. So cool and composed. I might have guessed that I was wrong. You proved that to me this morning. There's a fire burning in you. Were you hoping Lloyd would ignite it the way I did? You were all over each other. I'm surprised you managed to restrain yourself in the back seat of the car. Is he your sort of man?'
'More than you are, at any rate,' Emma bit out recklessly.
'How would you know? One kiss wasn't enough.'
Before she knew what was happening he bent his head towards her, his hand curling into her hair, drawing her face up to meet his.
With a muffled moan, Emma twisted her body to try and get away, but he gripped her closer to him, his lips devouring hers hungrily.
Emma felt herself sway. Her legs seemed to have suddenly turned to water. In fact, every nerve in her body seemed suddenly to have turned to water.
As his mouth moved over hers, the feverish greed of his kiss becoming more persuasive, she felt any semblance of self-control that she might have had slipping away from her, like grains of sand through an open hand. She closed her eyes and closed her mind from her normal processes of reasoning.
With a soft moan, half proclaiming her resistance, she succumbed to the searing intensity of his kiss, returning it with equal fervour.
Be reasonable, she thought wildly, but she couldn't because it felt as though this was what she had been waiting for. He had given her a taste of passion and she was thirsty for more. No man had ever sent these tremors through her body. Her tongue met his and she felt as if she was drowning in something over which she had no control.
Her hands met behind his neck, her fingers weaving into his black hair. As his mouth bit against her neck
she arched back, groaning softly as the spasms of pleasure tore through her.
She felt his hand move up her back, searing like red- hot embers through the thin material of her jersey. She was terrified by her loss of self-control. Was she so weak that she could abandon herself with such mindless oblivion to a man who was engaged? Someone whose opinion of her did not bear thinking about?
She should have been prepared for this. Her body, which she had always trusted to obey her commands, had forsaken her this morning, and the experience should have warned her. It should have shown her that his power to make her respond against her will was formidable.
She made an effort to pull away, but as their bodies disengaged slightly he slipped his hand over her breast, caressing it through the still damp swimsuit. With an impatient tug, he eased down the top, moaning as his hand came into contact with her naked skin. Her breasts hardened at his touch, her nipples taut as he rubbed them between his fingers.
Her eyes opened and she stared dazedly at him. He looked at her, and must have read the yearning on her face, because he eased her jersey off, his mouth trailing from her neck to her breasts.
His breathing was ragged, as ragged as her own was. She pushed him away from her, her mind finally engaging into gear. She thought of Sophia, and remembered where his allegiances lay. She must have been crazy to even let him touch her, far less to have responded with the hot excitement that she had.
'Let me go!' she muttered, pulling up her swimsuit so that it covered her breasts.
Conrad looked at her uncomprehendingly.
'Have you forgotten that you're engaged?' she asked, her voice rising in self-disgust and anger. 'Get out of my room!' She wished that the ground would just open and swallow her up. In a minute she would burst into tears,
and that was the very last thing she wanted him to witness.
'God, Emma, I don't want to.' His hand stroked her thigh. From under her lashes, Emma gazed at the warm curve of his mouth. Her legs were dissolving. If she didn't do something soon, all thought of the rights and wrongs of what she was doing would vanish like a puff of smoke. 'I want this ice maiden to dissolve in my lovemaking.'
'You're engaged,' she said in a high, desperate voice.
'Engagements are made to be broken,' he whispered ambiguously.
Emma didn't have a clue what he was talking about. His words filtered into her brain and promptly evaporated under the heated response of her body to his.
She held his wrist tightly, until she could feel her nails biting into his skin.
'This isn't for me,' she said shakily. 'Please leave.'
'Don't make me.'
'If you don't let go of me now, right now, I'm going to scream until you do.'
It took everything in her to say it, and she didn't feel any better. His hand was warm and trembling slightly, and the only thing she wanted to do was to feel it move over every inch of her body.
The drowsy passion in Conrad's eyes was slowly being replaced by incomprehension, as though she had thrown a bucket of ice-cold water over his head.
'Are you telling me that you don't want me?' he muttered.
'I'm telling you to leave this room before I scream the house down! Is this your ploy for getting me out of here? If it is, then it's working, because there's no way that I'm going to stay here if I have to be on the look-out for you all of the time!'
She thought of Sophia, and was relieved when she felt the anger building up inside of her. Anger was a safe
emotion as far as Conrad was concerned. She could cope with that.
'Stop playing the innocenthe bit out in a voice as furious as hers. 'I didn't exactly see you dashing for help/
She had recovered completely now, and was rapidly gathering together the strands of her composure which had been scattered to the winds.
'And you dare call Lloyd a womaniser.' She spoke in a cold, calm voice. 'Well, you're
a womaniser of the worst sort. Now get out of this room.'
He stared at her, speechless, and then turned on his heel. As the door closed behind him, Emma felt her body sag as though she had been held by strings which had suddenly been cut. She sank on to the bed and wondered what was happening to her.
She knew of course. Her subconscious had known for a long time. She was attracted to him. Why deny it? She had been attracted to him perhaps from the very first moment she clapped eyes on him. Seeing him with Sophia, knowing that he had most probably made love to her, had been agonising.
One of a queue, she thought cynically. She had hoped that his engagement would put things into perspective, show her what kind of fool she was being, but it hadn't. Admit it, she said to herself: you're a weak fool.
She relived the sensation of his body pressed against hers and his hands stroking her body with a shudder of disgust.
Sexual attraction, infatuation; call it what you want, she thought, it was an illness, a disease which she could overcome.
Or, if not overcome, then at least control. The man was a bastard, a dangerous, sexually mesmerising bastard. She had thought him a threat before. Now she knew that he was one.
CHAPTER SIX
Emma's body was still trembling when she stepped into the shower five minutes later. She numbly felt the hard jet of water streaming over her, cleaning everthing except what mattered, the part inside her which needed, as far as she was concerned, more than cleansing. It needed disinfecting.
Face it, she concluded miserably: the man was right when he said that she had let him do everything that he had. Worse, she had enjoyed it. She had relished the feel of him, all the sensations that had rippled through her as his hands and fingers had explored her body.
How long had she been waiting to touch him? She dressed slowly, deliberately choosing clothes in dull, muted colours, because that was how she felt inside.
Caribbean Desire Page 9